Don’t let my steely-eyed, non-anxious presence fool you. I worry. Sometimes, quite a lot.
Corrie Ten Boom defines worry as a “cycle of inefficient thoughts whirling around a center of fear.” I define worry as fixating on what might or might not be.
Recently, I found myself pondering my inclination to worry during a time of devotion. The Bible passage I was studying was familiar, but one of Jesus’s questions rang in my ears: “And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?”
In the moment, I wanted to take Jesus on. I wanted to tell Jesus that if I didn’t worry, nothing would get accomplished. I wanted to tell Jesus that worry was productive and necessary to cross things off my list. I wanted to say to him, “C’mon! Easy for you to say! You’re the Son of God!”
And then I sought to prove it to Jesus. So I got to thinking about the times in my life when worrying about something helped me out. I thought and I thought, eager to throw my defiance around like a farmer throws out slop. I wanted to show Jesus that he was wrong. I wanted to justify my worries.
As I looked back on my life, I was struck with the realization that worry—by itself—had done me no favors. Nope. Not one.
I think I’ve told you before that I was an anxious child. There was nothing too small in the world for me not to worry about. Everything was fair game. At the heart of my worry was fear. And the root of my fear was distrust.
I worried because I didn’t trust that I would be okay.
And to be particularly candid, let me point out that in life we’re often not okay. As a child, I had a hunch that this was the case just as I am confident of it now. I worry because I am fearful that I won’t be okay. I worry about not being okay because I don’t like pain. I suppose that my worry is a revelation that I don’t really believe what I say; that I trust God.
Here’s the bottom line. We cannot trust God and also worry. We cannot do it. Trust and worry are mutually exclusive.
I have wasted obscene amounts of my time in life worrying. How much of my life have I wasted worrying about something or another? Is it 10%? Is it 25% Oh, I shake my head in disgust to consider the truth of the matter. What a waste.
Worrying bears no fruit. As Corrie Ten Boom calls it, worry is centered on fear and it is an inefficient use of our time. Like the only saying goes: worry is like sitting in a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but it gets you nowhere.
Actually, that’s not quite true. Most of the time in my life, worrying has made things worse. Sometimes, much worse. My actions, made in reactivity and anxiety, have been the cause of my biggest blunders and mistakes in life.
Jesus knew that worrying could be this dangerous. Jesus warned us about this in his Sermon on the Mount. He included this passage on worry alongside the same revolutionary teachings as loving your enemy and even knowing how to pray because Jesus knew that worry was a symptom of distrust and fear. He knew that when we worry, we are not trusting God.
In truth, Jesus is quite plain spoken about it (go back and reflect on the passage in its entirety—Matthew 6:25-34). Jesus talks about worrying about things great and small, justified and petty, necessary and silly. But in the end he concludes with a proverb that is as down to earth as it is true: “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”
Here’s a spiritual exercise for you. In the same way that ancient mystics encouraged the faithful to meditate on the image of their own dead and rotting bodies in an attempt to help them value the sanctity of life, let me invite you to meditate on your past. When you find yourself worrying about something—anything—think back in your life to a time when you were worrying. Then ask yourself this question: Did it help?
If it did, if worrying bore fruit, then by all means, keep it up! But if, perchance, worrying did not help you then, why in the world would you think it will help you now?
Stop the cycle of worrisome madness. Try a different tact: Trust God and save your energy for more consequential matters.
Christ’s Anchor Holds
According to a report out in the late last year, ‘post-truth’ was named the 2016 word of the year by Oxford Dictionaries.
Post-truth? Yes. Welcome to the 21st Century where we contemplate how the truth matters less and less.
In case you are wondering, the dictionary defines 'post-truth' as “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief.”
I must confess that I think there’s something to this.
Take my preaching as an example. There’s rarely a Sunday that goes by that people do not surprise me by what they heard in my sermon. Individuals from widely different backgrounds and perspectives will hear my sermon and come to very different conclusions about what they heard me say.
In full transparency, I often find myself thinking: “You heard me say what?!”
I am no different, y’all. I frequently hear what I want to hear.
Matt Sapp, a pastor in North Georgia, calls this confirmation bias--“the idea that we are more likely to uncritically accept ideas or opinions as true if they tend to reinforce what we already believe.”
I don’t think it’s a stretch to identify this as a problem. We cannot simply resort to calling facts and truth that don’t align with our hunches and predilections, ‘alternate facts.’ This will not do.
We need a stronger anchor in our lives than the fragile, and elastic tether of our confirmation biases. Without something to hold us in place, the waves and winds will likely lead us into some dark and terrible waters.
Jesus Christ is our anchor. And his anchor holds.
Jesus said… “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me (John 14:6)."
Followers of God’s Son profess that Jesus is the way. The Greek word that we translate as ‘way’ connotes a road, a journey, not unlike Isaiah’s prophecy: “A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it shall be for God’s people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray (Isaiah 35:8).”
Jesus is the way that we know the Father. We know God—and His story, His commandments, His love, and His promise—through Jesus, His son. Jesus is the way we understand ourselves, the way we interpret events and circumstances around us, and the way we know how to respond to them.
Jesus is the Truth. Earlier, the Gospel writer told us that Jesus is the Word of God. This reassures us that our God wants to be known, wants to be encountered, wants to be understood. Jesus, then, is the explanation of God. Awareness of God and His plan for us is liberating. “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free (John 8:31-32).”
Remember, as Baptists, we covenant with one another to read and understand scripture in light of Jesus. But we cannot stop there. We should seek to understand our world through the authority of Jesus, which he defines as the Kingdom of God.
Jesus is life, both for eternity and in the here and now. Jesus is the one who tells us right from wrong. Not our own inclinations. And certainly not what is driven by our own self-interest or loyalty to a particular tribe or way of thinking. Jesus is the true north in our world.
If ever there was a time to profess the Lordship of Jesus, it is today. We need to be anchored to something far stronger than the forces of persuasion and deceit that is present in every aspect of our world. For if we allow ourselves to interpret and experience our culture according to someone else’s vision, we will be powerless to where they might want to lead us.
Without Jesus as our anchor, there’s no telling where we’ll end up and what we’ll look like when we get there.
Don’t just hold on loosely, people. Cling to Christ with everything you’ve got. He is our life, he is our way forward, he is what is right in a world full of wrong.
A Recipe for Tasty Goodness
In a strange twist, I’ve recently discovered that I like to cook. Why am I surprised by this realization? Until the last few years, I found it relatively easy to consume food. Whether from the stove, from the oven, out of a box, or from a cheap, fast-food joint, I could eat it. But alas, I’ve been forced to change my eating patterns and food preparation has taken center-stage in my life.
No, I’m not a natural in the kitchen. Unlike my father, I’m not intuitive about spices, food combinations or suggested cooking procedures. And unlike my mother, I can be sloppy about following directions. I’m not drawn to cooking shows and I certainly wouldn’t brag about my meal offerings to others (although my mashed potatoes are pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself).
So, I’m surprised by the fact that I’ve discovered a fondness for food preparation. And no one in my family has complained loudly enough for me to drop my new hobby.
As the pastor of our church, I often find myself to be in the kitchen. No, I seriously doubt that Ruth and her team of kitchen experts would value my presence in the Mission and Fellowship Hall Kitchen. Better said, I find myself in a position of arranging our church’s resources—think ingredients--in such a way that the yeast can rise and a tasty offering can be made to our community and world.
Most experienced cooks know that food preparation and kitchen management is a bit of an art form. Cooking requires appropriate care for the different kinds of items that will go into a meal or dish. Flavors need time to marry. Entrees need quiet moments to marinate. Skipping steps in preparation will yield an unhappy outcome, and too much tinkering, stirring and flipping will turn a lovely dish into an unsightly mess. Cooking, like pastoring and leading, requires preparation, trust, and above all, patience.
I can imagine that if there was a recipe card for developing a rich and bountiful church-- complete with a savory sauce and a sweet aroma--it would look something like this:
1.) Assemble the following ingredients in advance, and then wash them with the water of baptism and pat dry:
-Individuals endowed by the Spirit with a variety of dynamic skills and gifts
-Individuals with a willingness to share what God has given them
-A corporate desire to work together
-A willingness to share a common vision together
-A desire to take Christ-like risks out of love for others
-Courage to be honest
-Resiliency
-Grace
-A boundless, faithful love for one another
2.) Place the ingredients in an appropriately-sized mixing bowl.
-Please note: The bowl doesn’t need to be too big, or the ingredients won’t mix properly. Also, the bowl doesn’t need to be too small lest there’s not enough room for new ingredients to be added later.
-Gently mix the ingredients until everything is uniformly distributed. This process may take more time than expected, depending on the pliability of the ingredients.
3.) Allow ingredients to set, and for the flavors to fuse.
-Do not rush this step. Be aware that if you do, ingredients will become lost and the rich flavors will not be drawn out.
4.) Add the yeast of the Holy Spirit.
-Stir in the yeast and allow time for the mixture to rise.
-Caution: The mixture may not rise as you expect or imagine. Be open to what occurs and what may develop during this step. Also, be aware that it may take longer for the mixture to rise than you first thought.
5.) Place in a casserole dish and bake in a setting that will transform the ingredients into a wholly new creation.
-Be aware: The mixture will take a different form and may look completely different by the time it’s done. Also, know that the mixture may spill out of the pan. This is completely acceptable.
6.) Final words of encouragement:
-Do not skip steps, or the dish may become spoiled.
-Do not leave any ingredients out, or the finished product may be distasteful.
-Do not rush the process of allowing everything to marinate and settle. Rushing the cooking process may result in wasted ingredients and a failed product. This will inevitably yield distrust and may risk future attempts at cooking.
Y’all, as one of many cooks in our faith community’s kitchen, be assured that the quality of our ingredients are second to none. I’ve been in a variety of kitchens over the years, and I know the goods when I see them. The First Baptist Church of Sylva is uniquely arranged, and supremely stocked, to provide a banquet feast for the community in which we are located.
I’m hungry. Let’s get cooking together.
Confounded by Jesus’s Baptism
Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John. But John tried to deter him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” Jesus replied, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented.
This past Sunday, as the brilliant afternoon sun reflected off our snow-covered mountains, our church gathered to ruminate on this passage from Matthew’s Gospel.
We talked about timing. We wondered aloud why it was that Jesus was nearly 30 years old before he began his public ministry. At this time period in the ancient near east, reaching the age of 30 was quite an accomplishment. Of those who had been born, only 20% would have reached the age of 30.
We concluded that the apparent delay in Jesus’ ministry may have be a result of God’s timing, rather than Jesus’s readiness. This is something that we can all empathize with. Namely, how the timing of things in life can confound us.
And yet, the timing of Jesus’s ministry is not the only thing that seems perplexing about this passage. Let’s ask ourselves this: What was Jesus doing getting baptized in the first place?
The ritual of being dipped in water was a symbol for the repentance of sins. Mark and Luke’s Gospels confirm this. But what is not made particularly clear is why Jesus chose to have this experience in the first place.
Here’s Jesus’ own response to John the Baptist’s sense of shock at seeing Jesus approach him to be baptized: “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.”
Fulfill all righteousness? What in the world does that mean?
First, let’s tackle the word righteousness. It suggests, living in a right relationship with God. Some scholars and commentators have suggested that Jesus becomes fully human in order that everyone can experience a right relationship with God.
Second, some think that Jesus may be referring to the righteousness of God. Yes, you read that correctly. Readers of Isaiah will find that the prophet is imploring God to, “Tear open the heavens and come down to make your name known.” When Jesus is baptized, the heavens are in fact, torn open. God’s identity in Jesus is made known. Perhaps this is how God makes good on a promise.
One thing is for certain, Jesus has an encounter with God, the Father, and God, the Holy Spirit, during his baptism. The best explanation that we may have for why Jesus begins his ministry with baptism is his obedience to his Father.
Think about that for a minute. Jesus has an encounter with God through obedience.
Of course he does. We’re mildly surprised, but why should we be?
We will experience God when we do what God asks of us.
“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”
Oh, sure. We’ll see in the coming weeks how God encounters people when they are being less than obedient or faithful to him. But overwhelmingly, if you want to have an encounter with God, then you should do what God is asking of you.
We know that this is how the universe works. We hear it in the voices of coaches, teachers and mentors. If you show up for practice and run the plays, you will encounter success. If you rehearse, you will encounter proficiency. If you exercise and are active, you will become fit. Rocket science, this is not.
Our new year is but a handful of days old. Consider arranging your life in such a way that you will encounter the living God. Yes, the Bible teaches us that in time, God will encounter us, regardless of our level of faithfulness. But wouldn’t you rather be found doing what God has asked of you when God shows up in your life?
Communion at Round Tables
When I saw the round tables, I knew that I was home.
It was about this time of year, many years ago, when I traveled to a handful of seminaries to discern where it was that God was directing me. I was eager to hit the road and to imagine the life that I might have while I studied to receive a Master of Divinity.
I’ll never forget what one of my mentors said to me when I applied to an assortment of graduate schools: “If you want to have your faith confirmed, go to a school where everyone thinks like you do. But if you want to have your faith challenged, go to a place where there is diversity.”
As I traveled up the eastern seaboard, my mentor’s advice rang in my ears. A lifelong Baptist, I was familiar with the tenets of our tradition. It became clear to me then, as I visited a Baptist seminary, that since I felt called to be a pastor in the tradition in which I had been raised I would receive a fine education there. But as I sped north to my next visit, I knew that I had not yet found my home.
My next stop was an excellent divinity school in the Methodist tradition. I was impressed and encouraged, but dismayed by the commuter-like feel of the seminary community. Again, I did not feel at home.
Finally, I ventured farther north than I had ever really traveled. The land and its people were strange to me and my senses were heightened by the novelty of being in a new place. The school had a rich history and a legacy for developing dynamic pastors of congregations in a variety of contexts. But it wasn’t until my companions and I headed to the recently renovated dining hall that it clicked.
“When they designed the dining hall,” our tour guide told us, “they had some discussion about the tables.”
“The tables?,” someone wondered aloud.
“Yes.” he confirmed. “Some thought it would be easier to have rectangular shaped tables. But a generous alum said that he would pay for all the tables in the dining hall as long as they were round tables.”
“Round tables,” the guide reported, “would help to facilitate conversation among the seminarians. No one would be at the head, and no one would be at the foot. Like the Kingdom of God, the table would be set so everyone could see one another as equal, valued brothers and sisters in Christ.”
And that’s what sealed it for me. Oh sure, there were other factors, but it was the round tables that helped me to know that I was home.
Princeton Theological Seminary is a Presbyterian school, rooted in the Reform tradition. And yet, while I was a student there, nearly half of the entire student body was made up of other Christian traditions—namely, Methodists, Baptists (yes, all kinds of), Lutherans, Anglicans, Catholics, Pentecostals, The Christian Church and many others. There were individuals from the Deep South, the Rust Belt, Southwest and the West Coast. We had scholars from Europe, Central America and Asia. Developing countries were represented, and worship—in particular—was rich, lively and beyond anything I had ever experienced before.
And although I received a top-notch education in a fantastic setting with marvelous field-education experiences from a hospital in Winston-Salem to a church in Hell’s Kitchen, Manhattan, it was the education that I received around the table that mattered most.
You see, it was the table where my classmates and I truly shared communion. It was the place where we shared what we really thought, what we truly believed, and what rattled our chains. It was a proving grounds of sorts, and it was made all the richer because we represented different backgrounds, different traditions and different ways of experiencing the world.
And it was made possible because the tables were round.
Beginning on Wednesday, January 11th, our adults will begin a new Bible Study Series that I am calling, “Room at the Table: What Other Christians Believe.” We will be learning about other Christian traditions, as well as the spiritual disciplines that they practice. We will learn about the origins of the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Churches. We will talk about what happened in the Reformation. We will learn what makes Lutherans, Presbyterians and Anglicans unique from one another. We’ll talk about how Baptists fit into the fabric of the Church Universal. We’ll see how the pieces fit and learn from our brothers and sisters who are seated at the Table of the Lord.
Looking Elsewhere for Peace
I am aching for a good snow. Open the arctic windows, flood our land with a damp cold, and pour down the snow of my dreams.
Sigh.
My love affair with snow is silly and childlike. There. I admit it. I’m quite aware that snow complicates things. Travel is impaired with even the hint of wintry weather. Many individuals do not have the luxury to cozy up by their fire when sleet and snow coat their driveways. I am aware of all these things, but my heart still sings for the gauzy clouds of snow to descend from our highest mountains to our lowest valleys.
Here’s why I love snow: snow brings peace. Snow brings quiet. Snow brings transcendent rest and Sabbath.
Snow has the power of obscuring the raw, unattractive realities of our world. Our ability to see far ahead is limited and the falling flakes erase the horizons. Meteorologists will tell us that they measure the intensity of falling snow based upon the impaired visibility. In essence, the farther you can see—10 miles, for example—while it is precipitating would suggest a light snow with relatively minor accumulations. And yet, a snow that falls so heavily that you cannot see your neighbor’s house only 50 yards away heralds a heavy snow with the promise of a 10-foot tall snowman.
Snow also silences the noise of the world. The volume of traffic, construction or the sound of barking dogs is muted by the furiously falling snow. The sound of falling snow feels like being tucked into the softest of bed sheets.
And of course, snow transforms the landscape. It obscures the brown, beat-up lawns and grey leaves of the forest. Snow covers the scars we’ve inflicted upon the land, and magically converts the gnarled briars and undergrowth into a cathedral of decadent wonder and beauty.
Y’all, I need a good snow.
But I’m not going to get one. At least, not for some time. At present, our Christmas weekend looks to be mild. It will feel more reminiscent of mid-march than frosty December. To my great horror, the following week will tempt us to consider our spring gardening plans.
Although my heart yearns for the Sabbath and rest that only a good winter storm can provide, I’ll have no help from the weather department. I want my world to become smaller so that I can see the faces of my family more easily than I can the sadness and tragedies of our global community. The tidal waves of social media and ghastly headlines will give me no holiday and the world will not be transformed by the Magician’s Hand.
Any peace that I experience this Christmas season will not be because of snow. I suppose that peace will have to come from a higher source.
In lieu of drifting snow, the Prince of Peace will have to suffice.
First Baptist Church, may your celebration of Emmanuel—God With Us—bring you a peace that surpasses our failed attempts at peace-making. May you experience Sabbath these next few weeks so that your soul can find its rest in God. I pray that you will allow God to tend to your hearts so that you will see the world the way God sees it. Merry Christmas, brothers and sisters, and may the start of the New Year be restorative and rich.
‘The Best Christmas Pageant Ever’ Is the One Where Everyone Is Involved
“We all thought the pageant was about Jesus, but that was only part of it. It was about a new baby, and his mother and father who were in a whole lot of trouble—no money, no place to go, no doctor, nobody they knew.”
-Beth Bradley, the narrator of ‘The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.’
Over the last few months, our children, youth and a handful of adults have been preparing to tell a story. It’s a familiar tale, of course, for many of us. But to the majority of our cast, the story of Jesus’ birth is new territory. And that’s not all that’s new to our collection of young thespians. Many of them are very new to stage acting, as well!
The story that we have been preparing to tell is a story within a story. It’s about a church—not unlike our own—who is trying to put on their annual children’s Christmas Pageant. But things take an unusual twist when the cast becomes populated with the neighborhood bullies, who are perfectly horrible.
Throughout the play, statements emerge that could have come straight from our own church: A parent remarks: “Do I really have to go and see the play?” A child protests: “I don’t want to be in the play!” A church member is aghast at the casts’ behavior: “Can you believe what that child just did?!” The director can’t get through a rehearsal without the play falling apart and the pastor—trying to keep the peace—wonders aloud: “Shouldn’t we just cancel the pageant?”
There’s no strain or difficulty when we read the Christmas story, ourselves, or hear it read to us in a worship service. But simply reading the story is not enough to grasp the meaning and power of God’s love in a specific instance and point in history. To truly understand what happened, we must see the story, we must feel the tension, we must put ourselves in the place of the shepherds, the young couple, and the travel-wearied Magi. And to do that, we must find a way to tell the story together.
Telling the Christmas story together, as in a play or production, is infinitely harder than simply reading the 67 verses that describe the event in scripture. And yet, telling the story together is what God asks of us. We are the Body of Christ, and we have been charged with the responsibility of telling the story together—all of us.
What’s remarkable, of course, is that the production proves what we all know to be true, but often fail to remember. The story of God’s love in the birth of Jesus changes us. When we place ourselves in the cramped stable with Mary and Joseph, and are able to see the Christ child lying in a manger, we are changed by a God who would do the unthinkable to love the forgotten and the unlovable.
These last few weeks, in particular, have reminded me of the power of God’s love as it works through people. Coming on board our production have been parents, other adults, advocates alike, who have eagerly agreed to help and assist us backstage and with an encouraging word. As many of us all very aware, a Christmas production with children is an, “All hands on deck!,” kind of moment. And it should be, shouldn’t it? We have an extraordinary story to tell and it requires all of us to help tell it.
The name of our production is, ‘The Best Christmas Pageant Ever,’ and it will be presented this Friday evening, December 16th, at 7:00 PM in our sanctuary.
I believe that the production will live up to its namesake—especially if everyone shows up to be a part of the storytelling.
Please join us on Friday night. We even have a reception planned to foster fellowship and laughter. Because that’s part of our story as well.
Doing Peace Means Practicing Grace
Ironic, isn’t it; that the week of Advent where we acknowledge God’s peace just happens to be one of the most stressful and anxiety-inducing times of our entire year?
The Church that crafted our Advent season wasn’t trying to be comical. Emmanuel, God with Us, does in fact yield peace.
This is how:
God’s decision to become flesh and to live among us is rooted in God’s desire to extend grace to you and me. Although undeserved, God chose to come into our world in the person of Jesus Christ to save us from our sins. In Jesus, God taught us about the depth of his love, the extent of our need for a savior, and the promise of eternal life with God. We experience God’s peace when we choose to accept God’s grace in Jesus. Grace begets peace—peace for us and peace for our world. Christ’s life, ministry and sacrifice give us shalom (the Hebrew word for peace) which means wholeness.
In giving us Jesus, God gives us grace and we taste the peace that comes with God’s favor. Yet, we are not called to simply be consumers of God’s grace. We are to become active participants with God in extending grace and peace to others.
Put more succinctly, God’s peace is not a commodity. God’s peace is a call to action.
That’s right, in addition to ‘doing justice, loving kindness and walking humbly with God,’ God expects us to ‘do peace,’ just as God has modeled for us. Doing peace means practicing grace.
Practicing grace means seeing the best in people when we’d rather let them have it.
Practicing grace means finding ways to be thankful rather than arguing for what you want and are rightfully owed.
Practicing grace means giving someone the benefit of the doubt, even when you are over-flowing with doubt.
Practicing grace means seeing the big picture when it’s more desirable to focus on the weeds.
Practicing grace means reminding yourself that at some level, everyone is hurting and is genuinely trying to do good.
Practicing grace is not a sickly sweet, southern-styled, kill-them-with-kindness, passive aggressiveness. Practicing grace genuinely means giving someone a break when they don’t deserve it.
Practicing grace is what peace looks like.
But here’s the honest truth. We tend to be least gracious when we are anxious, stressed, or afraid. When we ourselves are not well, we have little capacity to provide grace to one another. Instead, our own ill-tempered dispositions, impatience, irritations and exasperations bear a bitter fruit that can sour our encounters and poison our relationships.
So what are we well-intentioned, on-edge people to do?
We must receive God’s grace in order to extend God’s grace. We must acknowledge that we, ourselves, make mistakes, botch things up and say things that we shouldn’t. Once we’ve come clean about our own reality, we must accept God’s grace to us even though we don’t deserve it.
At the beginning of each worship service, we have a segment that we call, ‘Passing the Peace.’ We extend it—“May the Peace of Christ be with you!”—and we receive it back, hearing: “And also with you!”
These are good words, but we cannot be content with these scripted statements. These good words, like the Word, must become real.
Your Daily Dose of Advent
On Sunday during worship, we distributed a book of Advent Devotions to every family in our church. It is comprised of daily reflections, crafted by our own church members, to help guide our Advent Season. I am grateful for our church’s willingness to contribute to this project, and I want to make sure every family receives a copy. I think that you will find that the devotions give us a more intimate glimpse into our church family’s wisdom and insight.
Additionally, I’d like to draw to your attention to the first page of our Advent Devotional booklet. It’s a schedule for the Advent and Christmas Season. Be sure to include our church family’s holiday offerings into your own family’s plans this holiday season. (Tia: Please run the schedule as a chimes article)
If you have not already received your Advent Devotion book, you may pick them up at Sylva First Wednesdays, or on Sunday mornings, or in our church office.
When you do, you’ll be able to read excellent commentary on our Advent Season like Joseph Moon’s entry listed here:
‘The God of Hope’
by Joseph Moon
Wishful thinking is for magic and fairytales, right? Is there a difference between wishing and hoping? I think of wishing and hoping as two different things. I may “wish” that I could have a photographic memory OR I may “wish” I could retire a millionaire right now. On the other hand, hoping is being patient and deeply anticipating the unforeseeable future. I am thankful to God that He has graciously given us the greatest gift in which we can place our hope: our Lord Jesus Christ.
What exactly did Jesus do for us? What is He actively doing right now? If we are placing our life’s hope in Him, we need to allow Scripture to encourage us daily with a reminder (Rom. 15:4). We know that we have all fallen short of the glory of God and Christ is the only way to reconcile us with God (John 14:6). Right now, Christ is seated at God’s right hand with far more power than any current worldly rule (Eph. 1:20-21). Apart from Christ we have no hope, so rejoice in the hope we have through Jesus Christ (Rom. 5:2).
Life is never what we plan, schedule, or anticipate. This may come as an unwelcomed surprise for most of us. I know that, if necessary (1 Peter 1:6), I will face trails for a little while. I will take comfort in knowing that these temporary sufferings don’t even come close to comparing them with the glory that will be revealed in Jesus (Rom. 8:18).
Glory be to God for His love by giving us hope through Jesus to confidently sing together: “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. Because He lives, all fear is gone. Because I know He holds the future. And life is worth living just because He lives.”
Thankful for Small Things
Someone wise once said: “It’s best to pay attention to the small things in life. Because one day, you may look back and discover that the big things in life were actually the small things.”
With that in mind, I’d like to consider the ‘small things’ in life for which I am thankful.
*
I am thankful for the taste of fresh, homemade caramel.
I am thankful for the delicious sound of my children’s laughter when they are tickled.
I am thankful for the sound of rich, congregational singing at a funeral.
I am thankful for the sudden chill you feel when you approach a mountain spring in the summertime.
I am thankful when others say thank you.
I am thankful for the sound of a steady rain on a tin roof.
I am thankful for a good, pun-filled joke that catches me off guard.
I am thankful for the way a new book smells when you open its pages.
I am thankful for clean sheets after a hot shower.
I am thankful for clergy friends who understand the blessings and challenges of our calling.
I am thankful for our tradition of watching 'Rick Steve’s European Christmas' DVD while we decorate our tree.
I am thankful for the feeling of satisfaction after returning home from a successful family trip.
I am thankful for works of fiction that distract me from the realities of daily life.
I am thankful for the smell of the century-old barn on our family’s land in Yancey County.
I am thankful for gluten free pastries.
I am thankful for the way my children unconsciously swat at my kisses when I check on them before I turn in for the night.
I am thankful for fast, reliable WIFI when I travel.
I am thankful for that moment when rain turns into snow.
I am thankful for the beautiful geometry and precision of the game of baseball.
I am thankful for the sound of my wife’s voice when she sings hymns.
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Paul tells us to be thankful in all things. This Thanksgiving, don’t forget the small things.
Of course, we know the truth of the matter. Life is made up of small things.