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COVID and Psalm 70

title slide

I will not be preaching this sermon today, because yesterday I tested positive for COVID. I’m not sure exactly where I picked it up. I did run into a friend in a restaurant on Sunday who came down with COVID on Tuesday. And, I worked at the Gladesboro poll on Tuesday (Election Day), so I was around a lot of people. l started feeling bad on Thursday but tested negative for COVID… On Saturday, I tested positive and had to forgo the Thanksgiving dinner with the folks at Mayberry Saturday evening. Church will go on, but I won’t be there. Here is the sermon I planned to preach.

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont & Mayberry Churches
November 1, 2026
Psalm 24

Sermon recorded at Bluemont on Friday, November 6, 2026.

At the beginning of worship:

Maybe it was because I worked the polls on Tuesday and was around a lot of people that I came down with a terrible head cold on Thursday. As they saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.I just hope I am no longer contagious and you might want to keep your distance from me. I struggled trying to get the sermon put together, while all to do was sleep. 

Earlier this week, I started reading Jack Weatherford’s biography of Genghis Khan. We, in the West World, don’t know much about the Mongolian leader, who not only built a nation but also an empire. Interestingly, he conquered more territory in 25 years than the Romans conquered in 400 years. Genghis Khan was born to an inferior family on the Mongolian steppes, near the headwaters of the Amur River, called the Onon River in Mongolia. This is one of the great rivers which few people in the West know. It is the 10th largest river in the world and much of its distance forms the border between Russia and China. 

Genghis Khan grew up in a violent world with constant raids on neighboring tribes. His own mother had been taken from her first husband shortly after her first marriage, and forced into marriage with another man. Even Genghis, as a older boy, was taken as a slave. He slipped away. By his late teens, people recognized him as a mighty warrior. Certainly, he committed unspeakable acts of violence, as was common in the 13th Century. 

But he had a vision, and once he conquered and united the tribes of Mongolia, he put an end to the petty feuds within his new nation. He ended the practice to taking slaves and stealing wives between Mongolian tribes. He forbid torture and strove to make friends of enemies once they were conquered. Instead of promoting people in his army based on kinship, as had been the practice, he insisted on promotion by merit. He forbid his solders to plunder for themselves. The spoils of war had to be fairly divided between everyone. He even insisted on freedom of religion and his army drew Christians, Buddhists, Muslins, and Taoist. 

Genghis Khan’s vision was for the Mongolians to no longer look out only for themselves and their families, but for the whole nation. Uniting the nation together didn’t please the Chinese, their neighbors to the south. In the past, they had been able to play various tribes against each other to achieve their goals. Soon, he was forced to lead his army against a much larger Chinese force. With superior tactics he prevailed and began to extend his empire which would eventually reach from the Pacific to the Eastern Europe.

While I certainly don’t condone his atrocities toward foreign nations, I found found his vision for Mongolians interesting. Sadly, a few decades after his death, his system fell apart. Greed encourages us to look out for ourselves, but it also destroys community. 

Before reading the Scripture:

Today, we’re looking at one of the shorter Psalms, Psalm 70, the second shortest Psalm in the Psalter. The Psalm can also be found at another place in the book. Psalm 40 has Psalm 70 attached at the end, almost verbatim. This Psalm is the second of three back-to-back Psalms in which the Psalmist seeks God’s help in dealing with enemies.

I like this Psalm. The Psalmist makes a personal lament to God, but even thought he focuses mostly on his own needs, he also acknowledge the community of faith, those who “love God’s salvation.” This Psalm demands speed, he wants God to come quickly. Think of this in ight of the Brief Declaration of Faith, which ends with the plea found in the book of Revelation, “Come, Lord Jesus, Come.” When we are overwhelmed, and desperate, we want to be rescued quickly. 

In addition to the Psalm, which is in today’s lectionary, I am also going to first read the gospel lectionary passage. While we trust in God, the story of the Ten Bridesmaids remind us of our responsibility. 

Read Matthew 25:1-13 and Psalm 70

One of the benefits of mediating on the Psalms is that they serve as a model for our prayers. Psalm 70 can be pulled off the shelf during trying times. You can pray the Psalm with changes or make it more personal by adding your own petitions for God to address. 

This personal Psalm, attributed to David, captures the feeling of being attacked and unable to defend oneself. Those who are out to get him, who seek his life, may or may want to kill him. It sounds as if they are more interested in disgracing the Psalmist through gossip and slander. As Jesus points out in the Sermon of the Mount, words and slander, while they may not kill the body, can kill the soul.  

The Psalm begins with an address to God for deliverance. And the Psalmist wants it quick. Interestingly, however, he doesn’t call for the demise or total destruction of his enemies. He doesn’t ask God to send a lightning bolt to incinerate them. Instead, he wants them to feel the shame, confusion, and dishonor he has experience at their hands. 

His enemies rejoice at his suffering. They shout, “Aha, Aha, which would be the equivalent of someone shouting “Hurrah” or “Hallelujah” while watching someone suffer. Taking delight in someone’s suffering, even our enemies, isn’t very Christ-like. We are not to rejoice in the suffering of others.

Then, in verse 4, the Psalmist moves from his personal concerns to the joy of those who are faithful and godly. Instead of condemning or making fun of our enemies, we’re to be praising God. And our Psalmist, even in his struggles, can praise God. 

Yet, he also again acknowledges his precarious position. He’s poor and needy and needs God to hurry up and answer his prayer. Then he ends, acknowledging God as his help and deliverer, while for the third time asking God not to delay.

Such a prayer helps us reorient our lives. We know God hears us. We hope God will answer our prayers in the way we desire, but we also know God is free to act however God choses. Maybe it’s enough to know that God hears our prayers and is concerned with our wellbeing, regardless of how God responds. For even if help doesn’t come, we can be sure God remains with us. 

Now I want us to briefly consider the parable of the bridesmaids in Matthew’s gospel. When we read the parable next to the Psalm, we are reminded that while God listens, sometimes we need to take responsible. At times, we have to make preparations and if we fail to do so, we may not receive a “get-out-of-jail” free card. Of course, this parable primarily addresses Jesus’ return. While there are many things in life we can’t control, as the Psalmist discovers, we are called to be ready for Christ’s return. After all, I often pray “Come, Lord Jesus, Come,” but to pray such a prayer requires us to be ready for our Savior. For we will never know the day or the hour. So be ready, and know God remains with us, all the time. Amen. 

Sources:

Alter, Robert. The Book of Psalms: A Translation and Commentary, New York: Norton & Company, 2007.

Hoezee, Scott. “Commentary on Psalm 70. https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2026-11-08/psalm-70-4/ 

Kvam, Kristen E. And Don E. Saliers, Psalms: Belief, a Theological Commentary on the Bible. Louisville, KY: WJKP, 2026. 

Mast, Stan, Commentary on Psalm 70. https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2017-11-06/psalm-70/

Mays, James L., Psalms: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994.

Weiser, Artur. The Psalms: Old Testament Library. Herbert Hartwell, translator. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1962.

Weatherford, Jack. Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World (Crown Publishing, 2005).

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Remembering Brent on the 20th Anniversary of his death

title slide with Brent on a carousel at Kennywood Park in 1990

It is hard to believe it has been twenty years this week since my friend and mentor, Brent Dugan, took his life in a lonely hotel room in northwestern Pennsylvania. He was 62 years old. A group of friends gathered this past weekend in Pittsburgh to remember him. Sadly, I wasn’t able to be there, but jotted down a few memories. Below my recent memories is a piece I wrote for the Presbyterian Outlook a year after Brent’s death. Thinking back, I am still grateful and amazed at his influence on my ministry. Next week, I will be back to writing about my trip along the C&O canal (or reviewing the books I read in October)

Remembering Brent

Brent Dugan at Kennywood Park
Brent at Kennywood Park, Pittsburgh, Spring 1990

As I prepared to return to seminary after spending a year as a student pastor in Virginia City, Nevada, Brent called. He had been given my name from Jean Henderson, the placement director at the seminary. Brent pastored a newly created congregation which came from the merger of two churches in the Ben Avon community, down the Ohio River from Pittsburgh. The congregation was searching for an associate pastor and he offered me a temporary half-time position to help during the transition.

For my last nine months in seminary, I assisted in worship, preached monthly, led the youth group including ski trips to Seven Springs and an overnight trip on the Clarion River, along with pastoral visitation. It was a wonderful experience. We bonded well. After I accepted my first call to the United Church of Ellicottville, Brent preached the sermon at my ordination. For the next fifteen years, we talked regularly and met occasionally to ski or for continuing education events. Slowly, our relationship changed from a mentor to a friend. 

It’s hard to realize I have navigated the past 20 years of my ministry without having Brent as a sounding board. I found him to be an encouraging voice of wisdom. We often discussed the challenges we both faced. New calls, building projects, problem parishioners, and a devastating fire in the Ben Avon Community. 

We were closest the years in Ellicottville, a ski town in Western New York  in the early 1990s. We skied every winter, My first summer there, Brent brought a sail boat on Lake Chautauqua. He had me sail with him to check it out and kept it at the summer estate of a member of the Ben Avon Church. The lake only being forty miles away from me, we met serval times each summer to sail. Those were joyous days. 

Lee, Me, and Brent at Ellicottville
Lee (who didn’t ski but holds a pair of my cross country skis), me, and Brent, Ellicottville NY, early 1990s

During this time, Brent traveled to Northern Ireland to help bridge the divide between Protestants and Catholics. Exchanges were arranged between the clergy in the Presbytery of Pittsburgh, the Diocese of Pittsburgh, and congregations in Northern Ireland. Brent and his fellow clergy, Presbyterian ministers and Catholic priests, attempted to model a new way of getting along and appreciating each other’s ministry during a time of conflict. 

Brent was always up for a party. One Saturday on Chautauqua, we didn’t sail. It was in the fall and we may have already pulled the boat from the lake for winter. Brent’s prayer group from  Ben Avon came up to Chautauqua that Saturday for an ice cream social. If I remember correctly, I made pumpkin ice cream. I was proud of my fall creation. However, my ice cream paled compared to Brent’s. He made freezer full of rich, delicious, and a complicated ice cream concoctions. He called it the Ben Avon Prayer Group’s Down and Dirty Devilish Delicious Vanilla Ice Cream. When the concoction was placed into the ice cream freezer to churn, the sink was filled with a collection of pots, measuring bowls and spoons, along with a few whisks and beaters. If Brent set out to do something, he did it well. 

As I fast approach retirement, I wish I could once again to talk to Brent and glean from his wisdom. If he was still with us, Brent would be 82 years old and well into his well deserved retirement. 

graduation photo with author and Brent
With Brent at my graduation from. Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, May 1990

Brent’s Prayer Group Down and Dirty Devilish Delicious Vanilla Custard Ice Cream

6 eggs, beaten
4 cups half and half
2 cups whole milk
2 ½ cups sugar
½ teaspoon salt
3 T vanilla extract (or ground beans)
6 cups whipping cream.

Prepare ice cream freezer according to manufacturer’s directions.  Combine eggs, half and half, milk, sugar and salt in saucepan.  Cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until mixture coats a metal spoon.  Cool.  Add vanilla and cream.  Pour into a 4-5 quart ice cream freezer and freeze as directed.

A Tribute to a Friend

Published in the Presbyterian Outlook on Oct. 22, 2007

Brent at Kennywood, May 1990.

I stayed at the home of friends the night before Brent’s funeral, in the hills on the north side of Pittsburgh, above the Ohio River. Unable to sleep, I listened to the lonely wail of trains on the tracks down below. Trains heading east slow down in this section, before heading over the trestle and into the city, their cars bumping into one another as the brakes are applied. Trains heading west pick up speed and their engines strain as they cut through the night, whistling at each crossing. 

In the middle of the night in a strange bed, I recalled sitting in Brent’s living room late one evening. He had invited three of us over for dinner. Afterwards, we sat around the fireplace and talked late into the evening, catching up on each other’s lives. Hours later, the conversation paused. Then a train came by, quieter than the others. “That’s the Capitol Limited,” Brent noted, “Chicago bound. You can tell by the sound, you don’t have the clanging of the cars.” Every time a train came through that night, I thought of Brent. 

Brent and I met in my last year of seminary. His church was looking for an associate pastor and I’d been recommended to fill the gap while the search was conducted. We quickly bonded. Working with Brent, I witnessed first hand his gracefulness in dealing with people. He exhibited hospitality. He cared for people, showing compassion to the elderly and the poor and the young. He loved his congregation and the community to which he’d been called. His preaching was solid, biblical, theological, and filled with grace. He strove for excellence and loved life. Whether it was sailing, fishing, attending the symphony, or catching a Pirates or Steelers game, Brent was fun to be around.

Right before Christmas that year, Brent and I took communion to shut-ins. It was a grace-filled afternoon. I would read the Nativity story from Luke’s gospel, stopping with the words “Mary pondered all these things in her heart.” At one home, with a woman in her nineties, Brent repeated the last verse then talked about the woman’s own children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, noting how she must ponder many memories in her heart.  Then he talked about how we, like Mary, ponder our memories of Jesus, which remind us of the good and gracious nature of God. 

We visited a number of folks that afternoon. Our last visit was a woman suffering from dementia. Although she didn’t know who we were, when Brent took her hand and began to recite the 23rd Psalm from the King James Version, she lit up. Her voice joined ours. Then we said together the Apostles’ Creed and the Lord’s Prayer. Later, as we were driving back to the church, Brent told me how those whose memories fail them frequently recall familiar passages from their youth. Throughout the afternoon I had witnessed Brent freely giving of himself, setting an example of incarnational ministry.

On September 30, 1990, Brent preached my ordination sermon. While I served a church in Western New York, we saw each other frequently. He’d come up to ski and later brought a sailboat to Lake Chautauqua and we’d meet there in the summer. He was still my mentor, but like a good mentor had also become a friend. We often discussed what was going on in my ministry. He’d listen carefully and offer gentle advice. A few years later, Brent officiated at my marriage, advising my wife and me to create a family that would be the salt of the earth, spicing up the church and offering a Christ-like presence to the community. 

In time, mostly because of distance, we saw each other less frequently. But we kept up, occasionally talking on the phone. When I was in Utah, he came out to ski and when I went back Pittsburgh, we got together. Later on, we met a couple of times at continuing education events and had planned to meet again at the National Pastor’s Sabbath last summer. Our relationship had become collegial. He still offered me advice, but also sought advice from me. A few weeks before his death, he and I discussed a new opportunity he had for a call to a church on the West Coast.

It was a Friday evening early in November when a friend from Pennsylvania called. She was upset and asked if I’d talked to Brent lately. “A few weeks ago,” I said, not wanting to say too much for I didn’t know who knew about his potential move. “Brent killed himself,” she blurted out after a pause. I was speechless.

Over the next few days more details came light. A Pittsburgh television station had shown a teaser for an upcoming investigative report that was to air later in the week. Brent was shown coming out of a local adult bookstore. According to the teasers, the reporter had “uncovered illicit, possibly illegal, activity by a local minister, activities which, at the very least, violated the rules of his denomination.” Later on, details about a man that he’d had an affair with came to light. It appears this man set Brent up to be exposed by an investigative reporter. Before the report was to be broadcast, Brent disappeared. Undoubtedly because he did not want to face public humiliation, he took his life in an obscure motel room. The station never aired the report. 

In notes left behind, Brent confessed of not being worthy of a funeral, a suggestion ignored as the church’s sanctuary and fellowship hall overflowed with those of us mourning. A long line of robed clergy, led by a bagpiper, processed into the service. Tears flowed freely as his friend, the Rev. Jean Henderson, read a letter she’d written to Brent. Presbytery executive Jim Mead also spoke of how he appreciated Brent’s ministry and told of the grief all in the presbytery were experiencing. Portions of Brent’s letters to the church and his colleagues in presbytery were read. He confessed how he’d struggled with his sexuality and how he’d been lonely. He encouraged the congregation to step up for the fall stewardship campaign and encouraged his colleagues in ministry to lead holy lives. 

After the service, I wanted to be alone for a bit and walked some of the streets I’d walked with Brent years earlier. They now seemed so empty and lonely.  I realized I didn’t know the depths of Brent’s loneliness.

I’ve spent many hours over the past months wondering about Brent and the issues surrounding his death. We’re all a part of a broken humanity; we all have issues with which we struggle. Why did he not reach out to someone? Did his desire for excellence keep him from displaying his struggles and brokenness? Did Brent forget that God, the one whose love he often proclaimed to others, also loved him? Did he succumb to the Evil One’s great lie, that because of his actions God had abandoned him?  

I’ve also wondered if there is any meaning to Brent’s death. From the side of Brent I knew, he would be disappointed if his death became a rallying cry for a political agenda within the church. Brent loved the church and he loved his Savior and he was content to serve both and tried to stay out of the political battles. The good news was too important to be overshadowed by political agendas. Grace is important; yet when things were crashing in on him, Brent seemed unable to find the grace he needed. 

There were scores of us hurt in that Brent, who had helped so many, wasn’t able to talk to one of us about his struggles. Not knowing about his secret life, I wonder if I missed important clues that might have opened him up to the healing and wholeness that he spoke of for others. Ultimately, I had to admit there was a part of him that I didn’t know. But that doesn’t diminish the pain. He’s no longer available to be that trusted friend with gentle counsel.  He’s no longer there to share a joke, to celebrate an accomplishment, or to grieve a loss. Yet I am grateful for having known Brent and for all that he taught me and for the way he modeled grace and unselfish service for the kingdom. 

The world is a sadder place in his absence. Without him, I must depend even more on God’s grace, which I suspect would have also been Brent’s counsel.  I wish he could have received such advice. 

A note about the photos from Kennywood Park… As my time at Ben Avon was finishing up in May 1990, the church had called a clergy couple to serve as associate pastors, Brent took the staff out to Kennywood Park for the day. We had a wonderful time riding old wooden roller coasters and merry-go-arounds.

Brent's sailboat moored
Brent’s boat moored off the Hamilton’s place on a foggy morning

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Psalm 24: God’s Ownership of All and Our Responsibilities

Title slide with fall photos of Mayberry and Bluemont Churches

Jeff Garrison

Bluemont & Mayberry Churches
November 1, 2026
Psalm 24

Sermon recorded at Mayberry Church on Friday, October 30, 2026

At the beginning of worship:

When was the last time you rented a car? Do you remember the drill. You sign a bunch of papers outlining your responsibilities. You’re not to smoke inside the car, and if you do, there’ll be an extra fine. And if you get a parking ticket or one of those electronic speeding tickets which have become so popular, you’re responsible. You might think they can’t track you down with the rental license plate, but the rental company has your information and your credit card number. If you get a ticket, you’ll be getting an additional charge on your bill. And then, before you take the car, you look it over because you are to bring it back just as it was when you drove it off the lot. 

The rental car is not yours. It belongs to the rental company and they allow you, for a fee, the right to drive their car for a particular period of time. 

God created this world and created us. And, for a period of time, like the rental company, God allows us to live on and care for this world. But as it is between us and the rental company, we have responsibilities. We’ll take more about this later this morning. 

Before reading the Scripture:

As we continue to work through Psalms I’ve not yet preached upon, today we’ll look at Psalm 24. This is a Psalm informing us of God’s nature, and also some of our responsibilities for those of us who strive to know God. The final part of the Psalm speaks of God coming into our presence.

Last week, we looked at Psalm 124, which ends with a profound statement about God: “Our help is in the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” Psalm 24 reverses this. It begins with a profound statement about God, “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world and those who live in it.” This statement impacts our stewardship. God owns the world. What small footprint of this planet we hold title to ultimately belongs to God, not us. Then it moves to informing us our responsibilities before God. 

As with the ending statement of last week’s Psalm, the statement which begins our Psalm is a go-to statement for me. It reminds me of the proper order of our world. We are stewards of the creation for which God gives us dominion. But the dominion is not forever, just for our time on earth. 

Also as in last week’s Psalm, today’s Psalm shows marks of having been used in worship. There are three questions asked. We can envision a priest asking the questions, as with a catechism, and the congregation then answering. 

Read Psalm 24

Psalm 24 provides us with a view of God and also a reminder of our responsibilities. As with many Psalms, including 124, which we explored last week, there are three parts to this Psalm. Let’s start by exploring each part.


Psalm 24 begins with a proclamation. This world is not ours. It belongs to God. Not only does the world belong to God, the Almighty lays claim on us. We belong not to ourselves, but to God. As the beautiful opening question of the Heidelberg Catechism states:

What is your only comfort in life and in death?That I am not my own, but belong— body and soul, in life and in death to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ…

God can make such claims on the earth and on us because God creates and conquers chaos. The Psalmist draws us back to the view of creation in Genesis 1, where the earth sits as an island upon a tamed sea and watered by rivers. 

After establishing God’s dominion, the Psalm moves to our responsibility with the first of three questions: “Who can ascend the hill of the Lord, stand in God’s holy place?” The answer: those with clean hands, pure hearts, and who avoid falsehoods and deceitfulness. Many commentators on this passage note how this verse doesn’t refer to ritual purity of the Old Testament, that which is gained through sacrifices and such, but ethical and moral purity. 

This passage parallels that well known Old Testament passage of Micah 6:8: 

He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?

Such are those who strive to live a life in a way which honors God by keeping the intent of God’s law. These are God-seekers, those whose hearts long for God. 

Verse 7 begins the third and final section of the Psalm. The opening of the Psalm began with a proclamation of God’s ownership, but now we have a command. As God owns the world and those who live in it, we’re now ordered to open the gates so that the King of Glory may enter. The landlord visits. We are reminded here of the image of Jesus in the letter to Laodicean in the third chapter of Revelation. The rich people of Laodicea consider themselves self-sufficient. They don’t think they need anything else, but Jesus stands at their door knocking. 

You may recall seeing the image captured in the well known painting by William Holman Hunt, and copied by other artists. In Hunt’s version, Jesus stands outside a door which has no handle and can be only open from the inside. He holds a lantern in one hand and knocks with his other. We’re reminded God doesn’t force himself on us, but stands willing to enter our lives if we only welcome him.

Scholars debate over the setting for this last section. Some think it may have been a separate Psalm tacked on to the first verses. If so, it’s not something unheard of. We saw the opposite of this a few weeks ago, how Psalm 9 and 10 originally went together and were later divided. Instead of dividing, here they were placed together to create something new. 

Nor are we sure what is being depicted in this section, but it could have been David moving the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. The ark, the representation of God’s presence, was taken by the Hebrew people through the wilderness and into battle. When David adopted Jerusalem as his capital, the ark was stationed there. It would later be established within the Temple built by David’s son, Solomon. 

As Christians, this passage can also be interpreted as a reminder of Jesus’ coming, as in the Advent hymn, “Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates,” or even as a Palm Sunday passage celebrating Jesus coming into Jerusalem. The idea of opening up the gates remind us of our need to open our hearts up to Christ.

The movement of this Psalm goes like this. We proclaim God’s ownership of the world, then move to our responsibility toward God, who we acknowledge as our landlord. Then we end with a call to open ourselves up to God, to invite God to fill us with his Spirit and love. So while the Psalm makes claims about God, it also reminds us of our responsibilities toward such a God. 


The landlord motif is appropriate for our relationship to God. When we rent property we are expected to do certain things. We pay the rent on time, we protect the property, keeping it clean and in good order. With God as our landlord, we have a responsibility. In our text, this responsibility is represented by clean hands and hearts, and by speaking the truth and avoiding deceit. We find such responsibilities in the 10 Commandments and in other parts of Scripture. And they don’t just apply to our relationship to God, who already knows all we do, but also to how we relate to other people who, like us, live on this earth. God wants us not only to worship and honor him, but also to honor others who, like us, have been created in God’s image. 

God, as landlord, demands his tenants honor one another. 

So, wherever you find yourself this week, look around. Remember it all belongs to God. But don’t begrudge the landlord, for God is gracious. After all, God trust us enough to make us stewards of this wonderful world. Amen. 

Sources:

Alter, Robert. The Book of Psalms: A Translation and Commentary, New York: Norton & Company, 2007.

Kvam, Kristen E. And Don E. Saliers, Psalms: Belief, a Theological Commentary on the Bible. Louisville, KY: WJKP, 2026. 

Mays, James L., Psalms: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994.

Weiser, Artur. The Psalms: Old Testament Library. Herbert Hartwell, translator. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1962.

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Days 1 & 2 along the C&O Canal

title slide with photo of author outside of Cumberland

C&O Canal, Days 1 & 2

In May of 2025, I set out with my brother to peddle bicycles from Pittsburgh to Washington, DC. Despite some riding in the rain, we did fine for the first half to the trip, riding the Great Allegheny Passage from Pittsburgh to Cumberland, MD. Once we arrived at Cumberland, we learned there were significant sections of the C&O Canal under water.  We arranged a shuttle around the first part of the flooding and then rode on a muddy trail. After skipping sections, we were facing more days of heavy rain, so we bagged it with a promise to come back and ride the entire C&O Canal towpath. Early this month, we completed the ride.  Below are links for our 2025 ride:

May 2025, Pittsburgh to Cumberland

May 2025, Attempting to ride from Cumberland to DC

At the beginning of the trail
The beginning in Cumberland

Warren and I met on Wednesday night, September 30, at a hotel outside of Hagerstown, MD. I had a conference for a county-wide task forces from SW Virginia which I served on that day in Abingdon, Virginia. Leaving the conference at 2 PM, I discarded my suit for shorts, and then had the pleasure of driving nearly the entire length of Interstate 81 through Virginia. I can’t say this was enjoyable as many sections were under construction and the state has gotten into the nasty habit of using speed cameras, so to be safe, Furthermore, there are always more trucks than cars on 81. It took about six hours (after s the 2 hour drive early in the morning to Abingdon) but I safely made it around 8 PM.

Day 1: October 1, 2026, Cumberland to Little Orleans, Miles 184.5 to 139

my brother outside of Cumberland MD
Warren leaving Cumberland

For this trip, we decided to do it the easy way and ride each section with a car at each end, allowing us the ability to stay in better hotels than whatever was available near the trail. Early on Thursday, October 1, we put my bike on my brother’s rack and drove west, stopping at Little Orleans. There, we dropped my car, then rode on to Cumberland on Interstate 68. The cuts in the mountains and the rather steep terrain of the highway contrasted to the relatively flat towpath which followed the river. 

They provide parking for bikers under the interstate bridge cutting through Cumberland. We parked and I realized I was a water bottle short, so I bought one at the bike shop at the start of the trail. It was expensive, but it also advertised the C&O Canal ride, so I considered it a nice souvenir. We then were ready to ride, but it took us a while to get started as we checked out a replica of a canal boat and got into conversations with a couple of locals.

It was almost 11 AM when we got onto the trail.  The first few miles of the towpath wasn’t a highlight of the trip. The edge of the trail seemed to be mostly bordered with dried ragweed. Then, maybe a mile out of town, we rode past the sewer treatment plant, which smelled fairly ripe this warm morning. But soon, we were putting the miles behind us as we rode toward the southeast. The Potomac was on our right side. On the other side, behind trees, was a large CSX rail yard and we heard the shuttling of cars. We’d hear lots of trains on this trip, but most were out-of-sight. However, at one place, we rode under tracks with a large container train running overhead. 

Riding bikes under a railroad

The day was unseasonably hot with temperatures in the upper 80s and with few clouds. A few trees show just a hint of fall especially in the shrubs, but most of the trees remained a faint green. The late summer flowers were fading from their glory. The wingstems had lost their petals as had most of the purple coneflowers. Queen Anne had been busy rolling up her lace for another year. However, the tiny white flowers on the hairy asters were in their glory as well as the late boneset and fall phlox. 

Coming out of the Paw Paw Tunnel
at end of tunnel

The highlight of the day was the Paw Paw tunnel, which runs over 3,000 feet through a mountain ridge. This tunnel shortened the canal by several miles which would had been required if the canal had continued to follow the various oxbows of the river. Considering this was built in the 1840s, sadly with slave labor, it’s truly amazing. The tunnel is lined with bricks.

The towpath inside the tunnel very rough and signs warned bikers to dismount and walk their bikes. This was okay with me as the tunnel provided a relief to the heat of the afternoon.

After the tunnel, we entered a section where they were laying a new base on the towpath. For several miles, they’d scrapped the old base up. Leaving a lot of sharp rocks. This was a rough ride, but soon we were back to where they had built a new base and the riding was much more enjoyable. We rode 44 miles the first day. 

We ended the day with a beer and a burger at Bill’s place in Little Orlean. Last year, we’d eaten lunch just down from the town and enjoyed an ice cream from Bill’s, but while there, I saw what appeared to be the best looking cheeseburger I’d seen. I wanted one and have thought about that burger ever since. I’m not sure if it was because they changed cooks or I’d been so hungry, the burger wasn’t what I expect. It was good, but not exceptional. If I was younger, I might have found the For Sale sign in front of Bill’s Place enticing. It could be a good life as they feed and quench the thirst of bikers while shuttling folks up and down the trail. They even rent canoes for people to paddle not he Potomac. 

After dinner, we drove back to Cumberland taking back roads (mostly dirt or grave) through Green Ridge State Forest. GPS wasn’t working and without a decent map, we just kept driving. After a long whiile, we picked up Maryland 51 and enjoyed a curvy but paved ridge back to Cumberland. We stayed Thursday night at a hotel above the city. . The next morning, we’d have to clean and lube our chains as the bikes were very dusty.

Turtles sunbathing on log in algae filled canal
Turtles sunbathing in algae filled canal

Day 2: Friday, October 2: Williamsport to Little Orleans, Miles 100 to 139

After breakfast at the hotel, we drove east on Interstate 68. We decided to save a bit of driving, we’d drop my brother’s car off at Little Orleans and begin our ride in Williamsport, heading upstream instead of downstream. Williamsport has a fine example of an aqueduct. Anywhere the canal crossed major stream, they constructed aqueducts so that the barges could float above the steam below.  About twelve miles from Williamsport, we rode along the edge of Fort Fredrick, which we’d seen the previous year. Just north of Fort Frederick was Big Pool, an area where the canal widened. This was an area where the boats moored during during the winter season. There was also places along the canal where mules, who pulled the boats, could be housed during the off season.

Construction at Dam 5
Dam 5 construction

To maintain water level in the canal, they built a series of dams on the Potomac, which allowed the operators to divert water into the canal. Dam five, which is north of Williamsport, was being rebuilt. This required a bypass and then a long climb with bikes around the construction zone. It was nice to be beyond this construction site.

2 of 4 locks
Four Locks, where four lucks were close together, the photo shows two of the lucks
Western Maryland Rail Trail
Western Maryland rail trail.

Along this same area, we began to alternated between riding on the C&O and the parallel path oftthe Western Maryland Railroad now converted to a paved bike trail. We ate lunch at the Little Pool campsite, just outside of Hancock. The site featured a wonderful view of the river and a half dozen huge silver maples and one humongous sycamore shaded the campsite. Afterwards, we rode into Hancock for an ice cream at the big shop on the western side of the town. 

Still Smoking Barbecue
Still Smoking Barbecue

The temperature remained in the 80s, but clouds were building. We even had a few drops of rain in the afternoon. We rode 41 miles. After arriving at my brother’s car, we drove back to Williamsport. Before picking up my car, we stopped at Still Smoking, an incredible barbecue joint. I got the last half rack of ribs and they wonderful. There are only a few places outside of North Carolina in which I had as good barbecue as we enjoyed in this little hole-in-a-wall joint. After dinner, we picked up my car and road into Martinsville, West Virginia for the evening. 

aquaduct
Sliding Hill Aqueduct. Today, you can ride across the aqueduct, but during canal days, the aqueduct would have been filled with water in order to float the barges across

We’ve almost covered half of the trail.  More stories to come.  

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Psalm 124: A Psalm of Trust

title slide with photos of Mayberry & Bluemont Presbyterian Churches

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont & Mayberry Churches
October 25, 2026
Psalm 124

We recorded the sermon on Friday, October 23, 2026 at Bluemont Church

At the beginning of worship: 

One of the commentaries which I read in preparation for today’s sermon mentioned “The War Prayer,” a short story by Mark Twain. Although familiar with the story, it has been decades since I read it, so I pulled it off my shelf. Twain describes the growing excitement as a nation prepares for war. Patriotism runs high. Everyone’s excited.  

Interestingly, Twain published this piece in the first decade of the 20th Century, at a time when our nation wasn’t at war. It’d be another decade before the Great War and Twain died before it began. Perhaps he recalled the Civil War, for excitement flooded the South. And for a time, even Twain found himself caught up in the exuberance. But then, he thought better of it and headed west to avoid the war. Or maybe he thought of the Spanish American War, which he condemned as imperialistic. Either way, he makes some bold statements in this story. This part especially stood out. Listen:

It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety’s sake, they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way. 

Prophets always rain on parades. As followers of Jesus, there are times we should stand up for what is noble and to be brave. We stand out against the crowd as we proclaim his grace and good news despite opposition. We do so, not because we are strong. After all, we may find ourselves pushing against a great tide. By ourselves, we can’t do much to stem its flow.

But we are called to speak honestly, to strive for righteousness, and to grasp the truth. Sometimes we can be overwhelmed, but we are not to trust our own strength. We strive to do that which is right and honest and just, placing our hope in God’s hands. For in the end, the only power which matters belongs to God. If we attempt to lure God to our side, we got it all wrong. Instead, we must strive to be on God’s side.

Before reading the Scripture:

I’m continuing to preach through the Psalms I’ve not preached on before. Today we’ll look at Psalm 124. I’m surprised to see I had not preached upon this Psalm, for the eighth verse of this Psalm I incorporate into almost every funeral service of which I have officiated over the past forty years. I also refer to that verse in many sermons, for it capsulated our faith in the Almighty. “Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” 

Last week, I introduced you to how we divide the book of Psalms into five books. But there are other divisions. Within book five, which contains our Psalm for today, we find another division. The Psalms of Ascent. These 15 Psalms are fairly short and were thought to have been recited or sung by pilgrims traveling to the temple in Jerusalem to worship. Another possibility is as the pilgrims climbed the 15 steps up to the temple, they would began by reciting Psalm 120 on the first step and each step there afterwards, they’d recite the next Psalm. Then, at the top, they recited Psalm 134. I’ve always liked how these Psalms are linked to pilgrimages, for in a way we’re pilgrims in this world, making our way as followers of Jesus to our true home with God in the next life. 

Psalm 124, as we’ll see, was also designed to be used in worship. It begins with a clear “call-to-worship.” The reader calls for the congregation to join with him in proclaiming God’s goodness. Then the Psalm ends with a communal profession of faith. 

John Calvin, in his liturgies used in both Strasbourg and Geneva, incorporated the closing line of the psalm at the beginning of his worship. This is a Psalm of Thanksgiving, where God’s people give thanks for having been saved from peril. This Psalm, written centuries before Christ, remind us of our sinfulness and that our salvation comes only from God’s grace. 

Read Psalm 124

Two things become clear in this Psalm. First, as humans, our powers and abilities are limited. Second, God has no such limitations. We should trust, not our own powers, but the power of the Almighty. 

This Psalm can be divided into three parts. Part 1, consists of the first five verses, recognizes how God helped to deliver his people in the past. But from what were they delivered?

Interestingly, the Psalm provides no hint of the context. From what did God save the people? Pharaoh’s army, the Philistines, the Assyrians, an extraterrestrial race? We don’t know and perhaps this is good. Not tying the Psalm to a particular historical event allows us to universally apply it to our situation. Instead of using actual events, the Psalm incorporates images, similes and metaphors, all which reflect the peril facing former pilgrims. The seriousness of the situation implies that without God’s help, they would have perished. They would have drowned, been swept away in a flood, pulled down by a torrent, or crushed by raging waters.

Desert people know the dangers of tight canyons when the hard sunbaked land receives rain. Did any of you see the video from Hurricane, Utah or Zion Canyon this weekend? If so, you know to what I refer. If caught in such a torrent, you’re gonna die.

But the Psalm doesn’t refer to natural disasters. Verse 2 makes this clear. The New Revised Standard Version, from which I read, translates this as “when our enemies attacked.” The King James Version and the New International Version refer to when men attacked. The word used here is “Adam,” like the first man but a word which also applies to all people. 

Perhaps the best translation is The Message paraphrase which translate the word, Adam into “everyone.” “Everyone went against us.” In other words, as the imagery reflects, these overwhelmed pilgrims would be wiped off the map without God’s intervention.

In this first section, we have a negative view of people. Consider this: who makes up the enemy? People. People can become our enemies. And when they gang up on us, we can be overwhelmed. Second, we have limited abilities to protect ourselves, especially if everyone conspires against us. Left to our own abilities, we may cease to exist. Our inability comes from sinfulness (those who conspire against others, sin against them) and our frailty. We see both in this Psalm, the problem of multiple enemies and of human limitations.

The second part of the Psalm, verses 6 and 7, praises God for their deliverance. Here, the Psalm switches metaphors. Instead of near drownings, the pilgrims see themselves as a bird freed from a trap. The bird feared it would become the hunter’s dinner, but at the last moment, the trap springs, the snare breaks, and the bird flies safely away. Notice, again, its not the bird or the people saving themselves, but events which happen beyond their ability to control. 

While the Psalm begins with a negative view of humanity, it provides a positive view of God which comes into clarity in the second and third parts of the Psalm. God has the ability to save. This Psalm looks back into history to make such a positive statement. The Psalmist does not look ahead and presume God will continue to be on their side. We can’t control God, we can only trust God by what we have experienced. 

The first two parts lead to third section of the Psalm, a brief statement of faith… Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth. If you know the Psalms, you may realize this proclamation is similar to Psalm 121, where we get the line, “My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” That Psalm is more of a personal song of salvation, where Psalm 124 focus on corporate salvation. God saves his people. 

Psalm 124 is not a cry for going into battle with God at our side. Such an idea goes against God’s power and freedom. We don’t control God. Instead, Psalm 124 humbly recognizes our human limitation and our need to depend on our Creator God. Instead of God being on our side, we should strive to be on God’s side. Amen. 

Sources:

Alter, Robert. The Book of Psalms: A Translation and Commentary, New York: Norton & Company, 2007.

Kvam, Kristen E. And Don E. Saliers, Psalms: Belief, a Theological Commentary on the Bible. Louisville, KY: WJKP, 2026. 

Mays, James L., Psalms: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994.

Mast, Stan. “Commentary on Psalm 124.”  Https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2017-08-21/psalm-124/ 

Twain, Mark. A Pen Warmed-u[ in Hell: Mark Twain in Protest. Frederick Anderson, editor. New York: Harper & Row, 1972. 

Weiser, Artur. The Psalms: Old Testament Library. Herbert Hartwell, translator. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1962.

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My Great Granddaddy McKenzie

title slide for my poem about my great grandfather
I’m held by my great grandfather. My grandmother is to the right, and my great grandmother to the left. My father is the younger man and the boy in front is my Uncle Larry

I promise, I will soon post the piece about my C&O Canal bike ride… but it’s still not done. This is still rough, but a poem I wrote capturing the memories I have of my great-granddaddy, who died when I was 12. A good while ago, I published a poem about his wife, my great grandmother, written by a cousin of my grandmother (who also appears in this poem). My great granddaddy, “Uncle Kenneth” shows up in that poem, too. Click here to read it.

My last memory of you
as a lean old man 
sitting in a rocking chair 
in my grandmother’s back room,
a worn Bible on your nightstand.

Or maybe it was in my grandmother’s dining room 
where, after lunch,
you’d take a pat of fresh butter
and pour molasses or honey over it,
mixing the two with a fork,
and supping it up with a biscuit.

But other memories also come to mind.
You dressed in a screen wired hood,
holding a smoldering smoke pot
preparing to harvest honey from
the bee hives across the dirt two-track
by your house on Doub’s Chapel.
You kept us kids out of the way
but afterwards saved a piece of a cone
for each of us to enjoy.

And then there was the time down by Dunk’s pond,
you cut poles so that my brother and I, 
just toddlers, could act like we, too, were fishing.

Or on another occasion,
when the dam threatened to break
you worked hard with the younger men,
shoring up the spillway
before the dam eroded in a heavy rain.

And then there was you with an axe
out behind the house, splitting stove wood.
When you had a pile you’d step back and wait,
while I gathered an armful,
to carry inside to the bin by the wood stove
where great grandma’s apple pies baked.

And then, there you stood at Culdee Presbyterian, 
in a lanky gray suit, as the Sunday School Superintendent, 
leading the morning’s opening assembly.
Like your father before you,
you served Christ through that church,
as an Elder for 40 years.

These memories I cherish 
even though I haven’t seen you since 
your death in the fall of 1969.

But the memories I cherish the most are those you told me.
of a mischievous boy, back before the turn of the century, 
who didn’t seem much different than me some 70 years later.

There was the time you sat at the table for Sunday dinner
when the preacher visited.
To the horror of your parents,
you waited till he gnawed on a bone
from the chicken your mother fried, 
to inform him he was eating your pet.

Or how, on another occasion,
you happened upon neighboring farmer’s watermelon patch.
Seeing no one around, you
began splitting the melons and eating out only the hearts
as the noon sun began to disappear on a cloudless day. 
As the sky darkened, the birds began to sing. 
Looking up in horror, you dropped the melon
And ran home as fast as your barefoot could carry your young body,
not wanting to be caught in someone else’s watermelon patch
on Judgement Day.

And then there was the story told by my grandmother,
your daughter, who rode in a buckboard beside you 
to the mill in High Falls
with sacks of shucked corn and wheat in the back.
Coming home, through Carthage, 
you dropped off bags of corn meal and flour
at your sister’s home, who cared for your brother Harrison
who’d been gassed in the Great War. 

These memories are gifts, but the best gift you gave
represented by the Bible on your nightstand,
was your quiet but steadfast trust in our Savior
as reflected in the hymn sung at your funeral,
which the Preacher introduced as your favorite,
“He Leadeth Me.”

He leadeth me O blessed tho’t! O word with heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate’er I do, wher’e’ver I be, Still ’tis His hand that leadeth me!

in a tobacco field
Photo taken in the late 1930s in a tobacco field.
My (great) Uncle Dunk holding the mule, my great graddaddy in the back.
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Psalm 99: A God in whom we can trust

Title slide with photos of Mayberry and Bluemont Churches

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry & Bluemont Churches
October 18, 2026
Psalm 99

The sermon was recorded at Mayberry on Friday, October 16, 2026

At the beginning of worship:

I am going to start this morning with two quotes from a wonderful book by Joseph Small titled, Flawed Church, Faithful God. The title of his book says it all. God is faithful and at our best, we struggle. Listen: 

The early church’s hope was placed in the mercy of God. Christians hoped in their own eternal salvation, yet their shared hope was not limited to life beyond death. The church was confident that God was working his purpose out in the world, for the world… the church remained hopeful in the face of harassment, persecution, and martyrdom.

Compare that view to the church of today, as I continue to quote from Joe Small:

Churches in America today are anxious, not hopeful. The prospect of institutional decline leads to a frantic succession of vision statements, strategic plans, measurable objectives, and the displacement of ‘outputs’ by ‘outcomes,’ all dependent on the latest fads in management techniques accompanied by official expressions of optimism that sound eerily like whistles init the dark.

See the difference between the ancient and the modern church in the Western World? Today, we wonder where the church is heading. Certainly, in many places, especially in the 3rd World, the church thrives. But in the first world, we struggle and many wonder what will happen to the church we love in North America and Europe over the next generation or two. But maybe, instead of worrying about the church, we should do as the early Christians, focus on God. If our hope is bound in our trust in the Almighty, we can assured God will see to it that the church continues to serve his purposes in the world. 

When we think it’s all up to us, we got it wrong. We should then be concerned. Only God can truly bring about change. But when we put things in God’s hands, there’s hope. 

Before reading the Scripture:

The book of Psalms, which contain 150 ancient hymns, can be further divided into five books. Today, we’ll look at Psalm 99, which is found in the fourth book within the larger collection. The fourth book has been referred to as the “editorial center” of the Psalter. God remains the focus of most of these Psalms. Psalm 99 is the last of seven Psalms which praises God as the king of the universe. Six of the seven such Psalms are found in the fourth book.

This Psalm can be divided poetically into three strophes, or units, all which end with a call to exalt and praise God. As I read the Psalm, see if you can pick out each section. Also, think about what we learn about God.

Read Psalm 99

In many ways our music and hymns shape our theology. This is especially true as we place less emphasis on the church’s creeds, which summarize what we believe. When we sing, “A Mighty Fortress is our God,” or “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” or “God of the Ages,” we remind ourselves where we have our hope. And music sticks with us. In the ancient world of Israel, the Psalms served as the hymnal and prayer book for God’s people. And many of the Psalms, like Psalm 99, reminded them of God’s nature. 

What can we learn about God from this Psalm? What insights into the Almighty are we provided? Ponder these questions as I work through this Psalm. You may want to keep your Bibles open

The Psalm begins with a proclamation. God reigns! Such news impacts the entire world so much so that the earth quakes. And while the Psalmist acknowledges God is above all people, God has a special connection to Zion. But God remains Lord of all. Everyone is called to praise God’s “great and awesome name.” The ending of verse three can also be translated, as in the King James Version, God’s “great and terrible name.” God is holy and we’re to praise him. But God is always the holy other, which gives us a reason to stand in awe and to have some fear of him.

In a way this first strophe or section of the Psalm ends leaving us uneasy. We’re left standing before “God’s great and terrible name. The mysterium tremendum. God remains a mystery and so great that we should tremble in his presence. And, if the Psalm ended with verse 3, we’d be left with little hope, only fear.

Thankfully, the Psalm continues. In the second part, consisting of verses 4 and 5, we’re reminded of God’s justice and righteousness. God is not arbitrary, but remained biased toward those who long for justice and mercy. Furthermore, we’re given an image of God resting his feet on a footstool. This might seem odd, but in the ancient world, the throne of kings were often so large, they had to have a footstool to keep their feet from dangling. The large throne was to make a point about the king’s power. In Scripture, we find to main descriptions of God’s footstool. It can either a stool created out of God’s enemies, but just as often the earth serves as God’s footstool. I think the later suggests what the Psalmist means. God, with earth as his footstool, reaches down to us. God isn’t just up in the cosmos, but connects with us, touches us. At the end of the second section, hopefully we find it easier to praise God. We now have hope of God being on the side of those who experience injustice in the world. 

In the final section of the Psalm, we’re reminded of how God reached out into the world, to three great figures in Israel’s history: Moses, Aaron, and Samuel. These three, prophets and priests, helped early Israel navigate their communal life under God’s watchful eye. God mysteriously spoke to them, and made promises to them which they kept.

We learn in these verses of God’s mercy. God forgives. But, as we are reminded in verse 8, God also avenges their wrongdoings. Notice here, its not about God taking vengeance on our enemies or even God’s enemies, but on these three key people who we think of as holy. They’re still human and sin always lurks near the human heart. They, like us, are not perfect and at times God must correct even those whom we hold in high esteem. 

God may be mysterious, but God also reveals his nature to us. God who loves and cares for his creation, is also strong enough to help and protect us. Such a God also wants to see justice and mercy on earth. By praying or meditating on this Psalm, we experience hope in a God we can trust.

In the Anglican Book of Common Prayer, there is a compline prayer, which is said at bedtime. It goes:

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your loving sake. Amen. 

Tish Harrison Warren wrote a commentary on this prayer titled, Prayer in the Night. 

Toward the end of the book, she reflects on how we should rest:

We weep because we can lament to the one who cares about our sorrow.. We watch because we believe that Love will not abandon us.. We work because God is restoring the world in love. We can sleep because God governs the cosmos out of love…. Love meets us even in death, bearing blessings.

May we all experience such a God. Amen. 

Sources:

Alter, Robert. The Book of Psalms: A Translation and Commentary, New York: Norton & Company, 2007.

Kvam, Kristen E. And Don E. Saliers, Psalms: Belief, a Theological Commentary on the Bible. Louisville, KY: WJKP, 2026. 

Mays, James L., Psalms: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994.

Small, Joseph D., Flawed Church, Faithful God: A Reformed Ecclesiology for the Real World. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2018.

Warren, Tish Harrison, Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2021. 

Weiser, Artur. The Psalms: Old Testament Library. Herbert Hartwell, translator. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1962. 

Wood, Ralph C. Contending for the Faith: The Church’s Engagement with Culture. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2003. 

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Reviews of my September readings

title slide with book covers

Next week, I hope to began to share with you stories from my ridge on the C&O canal towpath from Cumberland MD to Washington, DC.

Virgil, The Aeneid,

Version 1.0.0

Scott McGill and Susannah Wright, translators. (Audible, 2025) Edoardo Ballerini and Emily Wilson, narrators.  

Virgil, The Aeneid, Robert Fagles, translator. (New York: Penguin/Viking, 2006), 486 pages including Introduction, map, translator’s postscript, genealogy, suggestive readings, variants to the text, notes on the translation, and pronunciation glossary. 

A group of survivors escape the fall of Troy. Led by Aeneas, they make their way to the Italian peninsula. After distractions and battles, they start a new kingdom. In time it will become Rome and the greatest empire the world has known. Virgil wrote this epic poem during the reign of the Augustus, at a time when Rome was at its peak. While the poem ends with the victory of the Trojans over those in Italy, future prophecies look forward to Rome’s rise in power. While Aeneas and his followers display bravery, it’s all done with a backdrop of the gods’ activities which hold the human within their fate. The Aeneid provides the full retelling of the Trojan Horse and from where we get the saying, “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.” 

The poem is broken into twelve books. The first book involves Aeneas and followers making their way from a burning Troy. Due to the winds and storms on the sea, they find themselves in Carthage. There, the widow queen Dido rules. She has pledged herself not to marry again, but is intrigued by Aeneas. She asks him to recount their story of escaping Troy and their travels to date, which are told in books two and three. Smitten with Aeneas (with the help of Cupid), she wants a relationship. But Aeneas, while intrigued by Dido, holds hope to the prophecy of a great kingdom to come from his family in Italy. He rebuffs her advances, and leaves Carthage for Italy. Sadly, Dido kills herself, which establishes a a divide between the two rising powers. In book six, Aeneas visits the realm of the dead to learn more of his fate from his father. While there, he sees Dido, but she is now reunited with her first husband and avoids him.

Books 7 to 12 involve the conquest of Italy. It concludes with a final battle which ends in a struggle between Aeneas and Turnus. Aeneas is the victor and Turnus pleads for mercy. Aeneas at first seems to be open to sparing his life, but then he see’s the sword belt of his friend Pallas on Turnus, indicating Turnus had slain him. Aeneas drives his sword into Turnus, assuring his family’s prominence on the Italian peninsula 

There are similarities between this book and Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey. For some reason, I never read this book. I think it was used in Latin during high school, a class I regret not taking. After a year of Spanish, I was going to transfer to Latin, but I let my Spanish teacher talked me out of it. This book influenced both Augustine’s City of God and Dante’s Inferno. With Dante, he used Virgil to guide him through the layers of hell. Certainly the book served as propaganda for the Roman Caesars, showing their destiny for greatness, it also reminds the readers of the terrible price paid for such glory.

While I mostly listened to a new translation on Audible, I checked out from the local library another recent translation by Robert Fagles. I found myself liking both translation, but really appreciated the aids in Fagles translation.

Edward Abbey, The Monkey Wrench Gang

book cover

1975, New York: Avon Books, 1976), 387 pages including a map

I came across this book when I was living in Nevada in the late 1980s, just before Abbey’s death. The adventure excited me. I found myself at the time thinking I was blessed not to have read the book earlier in my life as they closed the B. Everett Jordan dam in North Carolina in the early 1980s. Jordan Lake now covers some of the best whitewater in Central North Carolina. If I had read this book beforehand, it may have given me ideas which were only talked about at launch points along the Haw River, on how to blow up that dam! Woven into the story is a desire to blow up (or have God send a strategic earthquake) and take out Glenn Canyon Dam, restoring the Colorado River to its splendor. 

There are four main characters in the book. We first meet Doc Sarvas and his attractive girlfriend with her long rich, molasses-colored hair, Bonnie Abbzub.  Doc and Bonnie spend their date nights destroying billboards in the desert around their home in Albuquerque. Doc then takes his Jewish girlfriend on a river trip with Seldom Seen Smith. Smith is a Jack Mormon (non-practicing)  but he holds to the church’s older teachings on polygamy. He has a wife in Cedar City, Bountiful, and Green River Utah. His wives gave him the name, “Seldom Seen..” When Smith’s hired helper on the river fails to show up, he hires a drifter, Hayduke, who is an ex-Green Beret Vietnam veteran. As they float down the river, the four of them hatch a plan to strike back at those ruining the American West. At first, they do easy things such as pouring sand in the oil reservoirs and Kero syrup into the fuel of bulldozers. In time, they become more destructive including destroying a railroad and power lines and taking out bridges. On their trail is Bishop Love, a Mormon church official with hopes of political power. He runs a search and rescue outfit. Wanting to end their activities, and give him a name to run for governor, there’s a chase which runs across southern Utah and eventually leads to everyone’s capture except for Hayduke. We last see him drop over an edge of a canyon in a hail of bullets. The reader is left to assume he’s dead. 

In the Epilogue, we learn that the three got off fairly easily for their crimes, especially since Doc saved Bishop Love’s life. While they are under probation, Doc decides to convert to Mormonism and marries Bonnie. She refuses to convert because she wants to be the only Jewish Gentile around. Doc isn’t serious about converting, cause he really wants to be a Jack Mormon and assumes he first needs to be the real thing. Two of Seldom’s wives leave him and he sticks close to the wife in Green River. And as they play cards one evening, Hayduke shows up, as he’s recovered from his wounds. 

I should have reread this book when living in Utah as iI covered some of the same ground that the Monkey Wrench Gang covered. At the point of reading, my Western experiences were mostly limited to Idaho and Northern Nevada. 

After nearly 40 years, this book seemed more juvenile than when I first read it. It’s also more prophetic as Abbey warns of the desert being used for data centers! For the reader, there’s plenty of humor in the book. I was also reminded of Abbey’s vast knowledge of the desert Southwest. Also, there’s plenty of harsh language (with Bonnie trying to clean the guy’s mouths) and plenty of drinking (and Bonnie, who prefers to smoke pot), and references to sex. The book is credited with giving rise to eco-terrorism. Between 1988 and 1992, I read almost all of Abbey’s books. This is the third book I recently reread. The other two are Desert Solitaire (Abbey’s best in my opinion) and The Fool’s Progress. 

Carrie Fountain, Burn Lake

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(New York: Penguin Books, 2010), 

This National Poetry Series winner focuses mostly on the author’s childhood and young adult years in New Mexico. Burn Lake appears in a series of poems interspersed throughout the book. The artificial lake, dug by Burn Construction Company, remained after building a bypass for I-10. It appears a place to swallow hopes and dreams, from a bulldozer to classmate and his motorcycle. These poems focus on fate and impending change (a new McDonalds, a new road, her father unrealized dreams replayed in a pecan orchard). Fountain watches the early morning traffic heading to California on I-10 and wonders where she’s headed. Planted throughout the poems are such observations of a young woman looking at the world around her. 

A favorite line:

“A road is the cruelest fate in things to come.” 

This is the second book I’ve read by Fountain. The first book,The Life, I read in June. I also heard her speak at this year’s Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin University in Grand Rapids. For those who enjoy poetry, check it out.

Stephen Puleo, Dark Tide: The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919,

book cover

Grover Gardner, narrator (Audible, 2013), 9 hours and 23 minutes. 

It sounds comical. A flood of molasses! But it was also tragic. At lunch hour on January 15, 1919, a 50’ high tank of molasses on Boston’s waterfront collapsed and sent a 2.3 million gallon tidal wave of the thick syrup through the north end of the city. Twenty-one people died and more were injured as nearby buildings collapsed adding debris to the slurry mix. The tank had been topped off the day before with a shipload of molasses. The author divided the book into three parts. Part one deals with the construction and early operation of the tank during the First World War. Part two focused on the events of the tank rupture and the clean-up. The third part focuses on the courtroom battle over the responsibility for the disaster. 

The tank, owned by. United States Industrial Alcohol, had been hastily built to supply industrial alcohol for the use in war munitions to be sent to Europe. Built along the inner harbor, the tank would hold the molasses waiting rail transport to the company’s distillery in Cambridge. From the beginning, there were questions about the safety of the tank. Those servicing the tank, loading molasses from ships and onto train tank cars complained about its safety. It leaked, so the company had the tank painted brown so it wouldn’t show the molasses seeping from the seams. They re-sealed the seams, twice.. But the molasses kept leaking and the tank often groaned. However, children in the poor neighborhood would often take their pails and collect molasses for their family use from the pools around the based of the tank. 

 After the war, with the 18th Amendment ratification on the horizon, US Industrial Alcohol decided to shift to rum production, hoping to unload the product before the nation outlawed the sell of alcohol.  The last shipment to the tank was destined for such use, but instead spilled out across Boston’s North End. 

The political struggles of a nation play out against the backdrop of this story. The Great War, Prohibition, labor and ethnical battles played a part. 1919 was a year in which anarchists activity seemed to be on the rise, allowing the owner of the tank to suggest its failure came from deliberate destruction instead of shoddy construction. In the trial, the company presented itself as a victim against the 100s of civil lawsuits who said they were responsible. 

The final third of the book deals with the legal battles, which continued for several years. While the company avoided criminal charges, they were required to pay significant damage to the families of the deceased and the injured along with property damages. Puleo brings the characters in the story to life, making this an interesting book to read.

On the C&O towpath
My brother (right) and I on our last day riding the C&O towpath, in front of a lock keeper’s house. Stories to come soon.
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Luke 17:11-19: Are we thankful?

title slide with photo of Bluemont and Mayberry Churches

I’m back from my travels. In two weeks, I plan to post about my bicycle ride along the C&O Canal. I’m also back in the pulpit this morning…

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches  
October 11, 2026
Luke 17:11-19

Taped at Bluemont Church on Thursday, April 8, 2026

At the beginning of worship:

A number of years back, I received an email from a former classmate. Concerned about her son, she asked for prayers. In her plea, she addressed me as a “great man of God.” Taken back, I checked the address. Was it meant for me? She could have mistaken me for someone else. Either that or her memory had already started to decline, as she hadn’t seen seen me in decades. In high school, I could be a troublemaker. But don’t worry, I still prayed for her son.

I bring this up because there is a belief common, even among faithful Christians, that God listens and favors the prayers of the righteous and faithful. Such a belief isn’t fully Biblical. Now, I should also give my classmate some credit. She addressed me as a great man of God as a way to honor me; it’s just that I don’t see myself in that manner. Any greatness any of us have comes from God, not from ourselves.

Before reading the scriptures:
I’m taking a break from the Psalms this week. Instead, I want us to look at the gospel passage from the lectionary, the healing of the ten lepers in Luke’s gospel. This story demonstrates Jesus healing and compassion, but only one of the lepers experiences true transformation—the tenth leper.

Before reading the passage let me say something about leprosy. It was a dreaded skin disease in the ancient world. Jewish law, especially in the book of Leviticus, laid out tough requirements of how do deal with lepers. The intent was to protect society from the spread of the disease. Scholars debate over what kind of leprosy Leviticus addresses. It doesn’t seem as severe as the type of leprosy we know today, which invaded Europe and Western Asia later. Regardless, the disease was horrible and in a time without public health departments and modern medicine, having it was tragic. While society needed protection, victims of leprosy also needed help. In our story today, ten found such help in Jesus Christ.  

Read Luke 17:11-19

“Most people are bothered by those passages in Scripture they don’t understand. What have always bothered me are those passages that I do understand.” This quip from Mark Twain contains wisdom. We probably should spend more time worrying about what’s clear in scripture than what’s unclear. If we understand this passage, we should be troubled! Jesus heals ten people and only one thanks him! What happened to the other nine? Are only 10% truly grateful? Did the other nine just “take the money and run,” so to speak? Did they intent to come back to thank Jesus and something distracted them? As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. 

And what about us? Where do we fit in the story? Would we stand alone praising God, or would we run with the crowd and forget from where life and true healing comes?

The foundation of our Christian life is based on God’s gift. Presbyterian and Reformed theology teaches that the Christian life—our worship, ethics, stewardship and morality—is based upon our response to the love God has already shown us. We don’t worship and praise God because we want God to do something. That’s the theology of a pagan. We worship and praise God because we have experienced God’s grace. The Samaritan leper would have made an excellent Presbyterian. He knows the proper response. He bows down in awe and reverence to Jesus, God in the flesh.  

Now, this doesn’t mean the other guys are necessarily bad. They do what Jesus asks. Together, they herd off to the priests and have themselves declared clean. Perhaps their mothers didn’t make them sit at the table after a birthday party and write thank you notes so they didn’t know better… Of course, I’m merely speculating. Jesus didn’t ask to be thanked. Perhaps the Samaritan’s response came as a pleasant surprise.

Jesus heads to Jerusalem the first verse tells us. Luke devotes a great deal of his gospel to Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. Jesus begins his journey in the ninth chapter and doesn’t enter the city till the nineteenth chapter! It’s surprising this takes up so much space in Luke’s gospel, for the journey itself would only have been a few days of hard traveling. Yet, a lot happens on this trip. 

The location of our story, along the border of Samaria and Galilee, is telling. Most Galilean Jews went out of their way to avoid this area, preferring the indirect route around Samaria. We all know the story of the Good Samaritan. The story disturbed the Jews. They considered Samaritans their no-good cousins.

For pious Jews in the First Century, the one thing worse than a Samaritan (and even a Roman!) would have been a leper. The pious avoided anything which would make them unclean. They assumed their holiness came from from their own efforts as set out in the Torah. Leprosy was a dreaded disease, feared by all in the ancient world, and coming in contact with one would require a ritual of purification. 

The book of Leviticus devotes two whole chapters to the disease, instructing the priest on how to diagnose it, as well as how to declare someone free of this horrible infection. Lepers wore torn clothes, let their hair hang loose, and covered their lips as they cried out “unclean” whenever anyone approached. Often they hung bells around their necks. Think of a cow bell warning others of their presence. They couldn’t work. They had no option but to follow the law, remain shunned from society, and depend up the charity of others.

Today, leprosy is no longer the problem it once was. Today, doctors easily treat it with drugs. If I remember correctly, the last leprosy hospital in the United States (in Louisiana) closed in the 1990s. Yet, there are still hospitals around the world, some started by the Presbyterian Church, such as one in Chang Mai, Thailand. With the right drugs, leprosy today can be easily treated.

The frontier, the area separating Samaria and Galilee, was the perfect place for lepers to gather. These people, because of the disease on their skin, are chased out of society. Here, in the frontier region, the distinction between religion and race disappears as their common affliction brings them together. They eke out a living by begging. As Jesus and the twelve enter a town in this region, these ten lepers follow. Staying at a distance, they cry out to Jesus to have mercy upon them. We can’t even be sure they are looking to be cleansed. They’ve must of heard of Jesus, as they use his name, but it’s likely they just want dinner. 

Jesus sees them. That’s all we are told. In seeing their condition, Jesus’ compassion moves him to act. He tells them to go to the priest and have themselves declared clean. Jewish law required a priest to readmit one once healed. Obediently, they turn and walk away. They may not have even known what Jesus had done for them. The text tells us they were healed along the way and the priest declares them clean. Nine continue on with their lives, but one, the Samaritan, returns.

Biblical scholarship suggests this story can be divided into two parts.  The first, verses 11 through 14, focuses on healing. Jesus heals all who those afflicted. Verses 14 through 19 centers on salvation. Only one of the ten, the one who recognized his healing as coming from God in the flesh, experiences this deeper healing.

God doesn’t limit his blessings to the faithful. As the often quoted verse goes, “God sends rain on the just and the unjust.”  A loving God created us. John 3:16 reminds us of this truth. The difference between the faithful and unfaithful comes in our response to God’s blessings. All ten obeyed Jesus and went to the priests, only one went a step further and returned to worship God in thanksgiving. How about us? Where would we be? Would we acknowledge from where our life and blessings come? Or, would we arrogantly assign the praise due God to ourselves (or someone or something else)?

I once heard a definition for evangelism which resonated with me. It came from a Lutheran pastor out West who wrote: “Evangelism isn’t bringing God to the unbelievers, but helping the unbelievers grasp the ways God has already been graceful to them—and to encourage a response of heart-felt thanksgiving.” If God is all-powerful, as we believe, he is with all people: believers and unbelievers. As Reformed Christians, we talk about common grace, the grace God gives to all his creation. We should point to such grace as evidence of God’s action in the world and give thanks.

One of John Calvin’s favorite metaphors for God was a fountain or a spring. Consider the image of a spring bringing refreshing water bubbling water from the ground. When I come upon such a spring, I can’t help but to drink from it. That’s how Calvin suggests we consider God. In The Institutes of Christian Religion he writes:

For until people sense that they owe everything to God, that they are cherished by his fatherly care, that he is the author of their every good, so that they should ask for nothing apart from him, they will never bow to him in willing reverence. No, unless they fix their happiness firmly in him, they will never devote themselves wholly, truly, and sincerely to him.”

How do we express our thankfulness to God for what he’s done for us? Do we pray at the table, giving thanks? Do we give thanks when a little prayer is answered? Or do we look back over our day in bed, thanking God for the good we experienced? And are we unselfish with the blessings God entrusts to us? Too often, I fear, we see that which we have as an entitlement, something that we deserve. Yet the healthiest people are those with a deep sense of gratitude.  

Yet, too often, I’m afraid, we’re like the other nine.We take what we can get and run. We need to change. The tenth leper shows us a better way. He experiences grace and then bows before the King of Kings, which is an appropriate response. Amen.  

This sermon was edited from a sermon I preached in 2010 at the First Presbyterian Church of Hastings, MI.

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Remembering a well-lived farmer

title slide

In reading C. Lee McKenzie’s Wednesday fiction post (Click here), which she said was inspired by a recent book review of mine on Chasing the Powhatan Arrow, I recalled this poem I wrote in November 2005. I wrote this poem after having written the funeral homily for Howard, a man who was a member of First Presbyterian Church of Hastings. At the end of the poem, I’ll say a bit more about Howard and give some clues to the ideas behind the poem.

I am out-of-the-pulpit for the next two Sundays. The next sermon will be posted, God willing, on October 11.

A Soliloquy for Howard

Meticulous and proud,
Howard bragged they’d never been an auction
in the 133 years the family had the farm
His grandfather, Caleb Dean,
a driver on the Battle Creek stage line,
facing competition from newly laid track,
purchased the property back in ’73.
At first, they lived in town,
driving the cows out to pasture each morning
‘till they finished the house that still stands upon the hill,
with hand-hewed floor joists, bark left on one side,
still visible in the Michigan basement he’d dug.


Much has changed in 89 years.
when the world was young and more innocent
before the Great War, the Depression and more wars.
In the Spring of ’16, his mother brought forth life
in the house on the hill overlooking the lower fields,
the road to Grand Rapids and the Michigan Central
with its coal-fired hogs pulling freight and passengers
along the banks of the Thornapple.
For those holding the reigns of a mule,
the train served as a siren,
its whistle reminding them of a larger world
luring some, but not all.

Though he traveled around the globe,
following the lines of the highway,
the whistle of the train and the contrail of jets
off to India, Africa, New Zealand with winters in Arizona
Howard never really left Rutland Township.
He lived in the same house,
attending a one room school until high school,
when he went into town where he met his wife Kathryn,
who commuted to school each morning from Shultz,
on the old C, K & S, christened the Chicago, Kalamazoo & Saginaw
(though it never made it to either end)
and locally dubbed the Cuss, Kick and Swear.

After marriage, he continued with his daddy,
farming the high ground south of the Thornapple:
milking Guernsey, raising beef, growing corn
and always tending a large garden
whose bounty, sealed in Mason Jars, were saved for winter.
Together, he and his dad brought one of the first tractors in these parts,
a ‘39 General, made at the Cleveland Tractor works.
As the seasons came and went
he dabbled in politics and farmed less,
but always kept his equipment as good as new
and for anyone who’d stop by, he’d tell stories
about working with oxen or plowing behind a mule.

Each fall, Howard harvested black walnuts,
primarily because they were there and that’s what you do,
when the Good Lord gives you a harvest.
As the years wore on, he came to depend upon others,
but with an eye to detail, he demanded that those who assisted
follow his instructions precisely:
husking the nuts through a corn shucker,
washing ‘em in an old cement mixer
and drying ‘em in racks in the barn,
then a keeping ‘em a week or so in the basement by the furnace
‘till the nuts neatly cracked open and the meat fell
into a cake or a batch of homemade ice cream.

In November, 2005, with walnuts drying in the basement,
harnesses and an oxen yoke still hanging in the barn,
Howard called his son to come quick and donned a fresh shirt,
for a trip to the hospital.
Heading toward the highway, where the two-track end,
out by the grape-vines,
he heard the distant wail of a train long pasted.
Kathryn had gone on ahead, but he knew the whistle,
and could hear the engine chugging through the swamps south of town,
as before,
carrying the girl he loved and who become his wife,
Listening, Howard gasped and breathed his last,
in sight of the house in which he was born
on the land he loved
where his family farmed
for 133 years.

Howard Ferris' farm, 2008

Insights into the poem

Howard Ferris lived in the house his grandfather built late in the 19th Century. The farm sat in the northeast corner of the junction of Michigan Highways 37 and 43. Until his death, the big red barn stood proud while the house remained somewhat hidden behind white pines. The two track which ran up to his house paralleled the grape vines which grew down by the highway. In the photo, which was taken a few years after his death, the two-track is covered with snow. The house and barn have both been removed since that photo was taken in 2008. 

One day, a few weeks after I arrived in Michigan, Willard Curtis, a retired pastor from the church who lived outside of Kalamazoo, came up. We spent the day riding around, as he showed me where people lived. I knew at the time the church, which sat on less than an acre of land in Hastings, needed to expand. We passed this farm, and I asked Willard who owned it, saying it’d be a wonderful place for a new church. “You might be in luck,” Willard said. “It’s owned by Howard Ferris and he’s a member of your church. You haven’t met him yet, because he’s in Arizona for the winter. Before Howard came home that spring, I learned he’d already sold his property to the hospital, but retained a lifetime lease. 

Over the next two years, I learned a lot from Howard about the community. Everything in the poem comes from things he told me. Early in the Depression, as they were building Highway 37 toward Grand Rapids, Howard’s father hired him and a team of oxen out to help grade the road. That road runs by the new church which now sits about half a mile north of Ferris’ home (he died before we purchased the property). Howard’s son gave the yoke to the church, where it is on display in the entry way.. Not only did it help grade the road in front of the church, it’s a reminder of Jesus’ call for us to share his yoke (Matthew 11:28-30).  

A Michigan basement indicates a dirt basement (no solid walls) and the floor joist were often logs squared off on one side, with the rest of the log left with its bark on. 

Sadly, Hastings no longer has a railroad. The CK&S went bankrupt during the Depression (I think 1937). However, in downtown Hastings, its trestle across the Thornapple remains as a walking bridge. The Michigan Central was later sold and resold, but continued to serve as a railroad in the 1980s. Today, much of the track is enjoyed by bicyclists, walkers and runners as a rail trail. 

Howard did travel to the places listed. In addition to farming and county politics, he was active in Farm Bureau and with the Agriculture program at Michigan State. Most of these travels were to learn or to share agricultural knowledge.  

Great Blue Heron over the Thornapple River during the fall of the year
Great Blue Heron takes flight over the Thornapple River during the fall of the year.