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.
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!
Photo taken in the late 1930s in a tobacco field. My (great) Uncle Dunk holding the mule, my great graddaddy in the back.
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.
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
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
(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,
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 takes flight over the Thornapple River during the fall of the year.
Jeff Garrison Mayberry & Bluemont Churches September 20, 2026 Psalm 10
Sermon recorded at Mayberry Presbyterian Church on September 18, 2026
At the beginning of worship:
This week there was an article in Wired Magazine, which contains articles on computers, networking, and stuff. This article featured Maddie, a student at the University of Florida. She made a bad decision. Photographed naked, this photograph and others, some photoshopped, started appearing around the internet.
I had never heard of the “burnerverse,” which is “a loosely connected online community of sports fans.” Many of these accounts are anonymous. And some of these “burners” set out to destroy the lives of women, and by doing so they promote their own internet presence. The article primarily dealt with issues at universities of Florida and Mississippi, but acknowledges the problem exists elsewhere.
Why would someone want to intentionally destroy someone’s reputation, especially someone they don’t even know. It becomes a game from them as they seek more hits and more followers on their internet sites. But it’s wrong; it’s evil. Thankfully, Maddie had a supportive family with research abilities which allowed them to expose the anonymous men involved. Three face serious criminal charges. But that’s not always the case and often those who commit such evil deeds remain anonymous and continue to destroy lives.
We live in a wicked world. It can be very cruel. But that’s nothing new as we’ll see in our scripture for today.
Before reading the scriptures:
Today we’re going to look at Psalm 10. Perhaps I should have preached first on Psalm 9 first, but I will save that one for closer to Thanksgiving. Psalm 9 & 10 probably went together at one point, but they remain separated in the Hebrew text. However, the Septuagint (the Greek Old Testament), and Latin Bibles, join the two chapters together. This is because the two psalms complete an acrostic poem, with every other line starting with the next letter in the Hebrew alphabet.
Psalm 9 begins with a Thanksgiving, then slowly moves into a lament. Psalm 10 is all lament. A part of the power of this Psalm is the Psalmist willingness to come before God swinging. He demands action. Long before Rabbi Kushner wrote, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, the Psalmist asks the same question.
People often use the existence of evil to challenge the concept of God being good. But Scripture remains honest. Evil exists in the world despite God’s goodness. However, God assures us of this: evil will never have the final word.
Read Psalm 10
Have you ever felt God wasn’t there for you? What did it feel like? Was it scary? And what does it take to feel so abandoned.
I know there have been times on wilderness trips where I have been lost or at least was unsure of my location. But at such times, I felt free to talk to God and never felt abandoned.
Barbara Brown Taylor, in her book An Altar in the World, points out how “God does some of God’s best work with people who are truly, seriously lost.” (73). So if you feel lost, don’t give up hope. God’s there with you even when you don’t feel God’s presence.
This is the situation for the Psalmist. He deals with evil people who lack a conscience. They do whatever they want to destroy others. The Psalmist feels they have his number. He could relate to Maddie in the Wired article I spoke of earlier. As he finds himself hunted down, he wonders where God hides.
Starting with verse 2 and running through verse 11, the Psalmist list the traits of the wicked who attack him. They persecute the poor for the fun of it. They have schemes to separate people from their possessions. There are no guardrails on their desires which come from them either thinking God’s far away and does care or that God doesn’t exist. Both remove God out of the picture of what’s right and wrong.
In verse 5, we see their arrogance. Feeling freed from morality and restraint of the Almighty, they don’t think they’re being watched. They prosper by their wickedness. They see themselves above the law and brag on their evil ways.
Starting in verse 8, we learn how they hid. They sit in ambush in the village. They keep a lookout for those who are helpless and lurk as a lion, waiting to seize the poor. We’re reminded of what those with evil intent say in Proverbs (1:11),
“let us lie in wait for blood; let us wantonly ambush the innocent.”
We must avoid such people. They do their deeds in the dark, hidden from others, thinking they’ll get away with their actions for, in their understanding, God nor the authorities sees what they do.
The Psalmist has had enough of the ways of the wicked. In verse 12, he returns to God, calling on the Almighty to wake up, to look out and see what’s happening. As in Psalm 5, which we looked at last week, the Psalmist attempts to shame God into maintaining his reputation. He makes sure God understands how his enemies mock God. They think they’ll get off free. But that’s not the case. As we see in verse 14, deep down in his heart, the Psalmist knows God sees and takes notes on what’s happening.
God might not alway intervene in the affairs of the human race, but that doesn’t mean God isn’t interested. God sees and, sooner or later, people will be brought to account for their evil ways. This is especially true for the evil ones who abuse those who cannot help or defend themselves. This Psalm signals the orphan for God care, but throughout the Old Testament, three groups are repeated lifted up for concern: widows, orphans, and foreigners. All these people have no one to look out for their interest. But not only does God takes special interest in them, God demands his people to care for them. Our calling involves doing God’s work in the world.
In verse 15, we see the rage of the Psalmist as he calls on God to break the arms of the wicked, to hunt them down till they no longer exist. Notice, the Psalmist doesn’t seek to break bones of his persecutors himself. He leaves vengeance in God’s hand. After getting his anger off his chest, the Psalmist praises God, who remains king for all of us. God is eternal, while we-including nations-are not. Sooner or later we’ll pass from earth, but God rules forever.
The Psalm closes with a glimpse of the world to come. The Psalms of lament always hold out hope. Here, we learn God hears the prayers of the meek. God strengthens their hearts and encourages them to seek justice. Hope abounds, for in the future, there will be no more terror from these beasts.
So, what might this Psalm say to the church and to those who attempt to follow Jesus today? First of all, it provides an honest assessment of the world. Evil exists. We live in a fallen world. As Jesus tells the disciples in Matthew, “I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” We still live in such a world, but we should not embrace or condone it. Nor should we accept it. We strive for innocence. We help the oppressed. And, under no circumstances, should we exploit them.
Finally, while we may not experience full justice in this life, take hope. God isn’t hidden nor does God ignore what happens. We have a vision of a future with God where justice for the oppressed with be realized. Such a vision may come as terror for those who ignore God’s justice in this life, but the oppressed and abused find relief. While we continue to see justice in this life, we are assured that in the life to come where justice will prevail.
In this Psalm, God reminds us that being on the right side of history may, at times, seem futile in this evil world. But that will not be the case in the world to come. Amen.
Sources:
Alter, Robert, The Book of Psalms: A Translation with Commentary. New York: W. W. Norton, 2007.
Dickson, EJ, “A College Girl was Exploited on Camera. A Network of Anonymous Ment Got to Work,” Wired, September 14, 2026.
May, James L., Psalms: Interpretation, a Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994.
Taylor, Barbara Brown. An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith (New York: HarperOne, 2009).
Weiser, Artur, The Psalms: A Commentary. 1959. Philadelphia, Westminster Press, 1962.
I’ve edited this post from one published in an old blog in 2011.
Aboard the train
The heat and humidity is stifling. Even in an air conditioned coach, a bead of sweat runs down my beard. I could pull the curtains as the sun pours in through the crack glass, but I want to seethe countryside. So I sit with sweat beading on my forehead. The sweat soaks back of my shirt which clings to the vinyl seats. I take another swallow of water from my bottle as I we race past vast rice fields in different stages of production.
Although large, each field is divided into manageable plots, which are separated by dikes which allow for flooding of the paddies. Here, six degrees below the equator, it’s endless summer and the fields produce two crops a year. In some paddies, the green rice is tall.
rice paddies with workers planting rice
Occasionally I spot a farmer wandering through the rice with a backpack, spraying what I assume is insecticide. Other paddies remain muddy with bundles of rice laid out waiting for the workers, mostly women working halfway up their calves, to replant. In other paddies, they harvest the rice, cutting the stalks and feeding them into a thresher or, in some cases, beating the stalks on the ground, separating the seed from the stalks. And then there are the paddies in which the harvest has occurred. Some of these fields have been burned. They remain charred. A few still smolder. I can smell the smoke in the train.
I am riding the Taksaka, the train which runs across the island of Java, having left Jakarta’s Gambir Station in the morning, heading to Yogyakarta. We left the capital nearly an hour late. For the longest time, we roll through the sprawling city. Poverty abounds. Trash is everywhere and the canals are filthy. I’m blessed to travel executive class. My ticket cost a bit over twenty dollars, but that’s a lot of money in Indonesia. And this is probably the only first-class train in the world with cracked windows and cracked vinyl seats.
Slums in Jakarata
We pass trains in which the only way people can enjoy air conditioning is to climb to the top of cars. They sit just below high voltage electrical lines, a dangerous position for if they start to slip off and grab one of the lines, they’d be instantly electrocuted. This is a country of great contrast with a few who are extremely wealthy yet most live in dire poverty and unspeakable conditions. For many of the people, the filthy canals being their only source of water for bathing.
view from a train window
Slowly we begin to leave the city behind and move into the tranquil countryside. Farms with elaborate irrigation systems line both sides of the tracks. Along the coastal plain the land is flat, but mountains rise in the distance. We race pass small stations where, as we approach, the station master steps out in front in an immaculate uniform. They hold red and yellow flags and remains at attention as we speed by. Our first stop is Cirebon. As the train approaches the station, a host of merchants jump onboard the slow moving cars, selling food and drinks and other goodies. Women carry a thermos of hot water and cups and instant packages of coffee and chocolate. Others sell baked and fried goods, fruits, packaged snacks and chips. Outside, other merchants knock on windows and bargain with those of the train.
It’s almost lunch time and I ask an older Indonesian gentleman sitting next to me what I should eat. He suggests I order a steak from the dining car. I take his advice. It arrives as we leave Cirebon. The plate consists of ground steak, some egg, boiled potatoes, carrots, and green beans. It costs 30000 IRD, a little over three dollars. I ask my traveling friend from where he thought the beef came. Laughing, he said, “Probably Australia.”
After lunch, the tracks turn southward and snakes up the ridge of mountains which form the backbone of Java. Rice remains the main crop as we climb higher. More fields appear ready to be harvested. Many other vegetables also grow. There are a few cows along with sheep and goats. I’m impressed with the fields, and how along the top of the dikes are staked green beans and cassava. There are also plots of corn, sugar cane, and melons.
The scenery enchants me. In contrast to Jakarta, everything appears clean. The irrigation works are even more elaborate here, the water running through masonry channels. The neat houses, all roofed with red tile, stand in contrast to the green fields. Tall palm trees many loaded with coconuts, shade the residents.
I walk up to the front of the car and stand by the door, between coaches, trying to get a better angle for a shot of the back of the train as we move through the turns. An attendant sees what I’m attempting and opens the door for me, allowing me to stick my camera out and photograph the back end of the train. I’m careful, realizing how dangerous such a stunt could be. You’d never be allowed to pull such a stunt in the United States and most other countries.
The back of the train.
I remember once, riding the Coast Starlight from Oakland to Los Angeles. I stood at the door in the bottom of the double stacked car as we raced along the Pacific coastline. Another traveler with a camera opened the window on the door. The car attendant was furious with him! Here, in the mountains of Java, I stay in the doorway for a long time, enjoying the cooler breeze of the mountain air and the ability to photograph without having to shoot through dirty and cracked glass.
Although the car, with many cracked windows, doesn’t look like what I might expect from “executive class,” I am impressed with the tracks. Here in the steep section of the line, line is mostly double tracked with welded ribbon rail and there appears to be new ballast under the concrete ties.
tile factory
After passing the town of Bumiayu, nestled in the shade of the forest stand scores of small factories devoted to the manufacture of tiles for roofing. By each kiln are stacks of wood for the fires and the open air buildings have two levels of roofs, allowing for smoke to rise and clear the work area. The train begins to pick up speed. Soon, we’re out of the mountains and along the coastal plain of the Southside of Java. We stop in Purwokerto, the second station stop of the trip. Afterwards, we’re back in large fields of rice, racing on toward Yogyakarta It remains rural for a while, then we began to enter an urban area. My traveling friend tells me we’re only a few minutes from the station.
We arrive at 5:20 PM, about 50 minutes late. I look for the Kiko restaurant, where I’m to meet a driver from the Green Gardens Bed and Breakfast. He’s not there, but as I turn around, a man runs up to me with my name written on a piece of cardboard. At least I won’t have to worry about finding a place to stay for the evening.
We hop on his oversized minibike. It doesn’t seem so large with the two of us, me with my backpack. Somehow we fit, but tightly. We take off through the streets. Along the way, at an intersection, he says he needs gas. We pull over, but there are no pumps. He buys two former soft drink bottles filled with gasoline. He pours them into the tank, and hands the empty bottles back to the proprietor. Then we’re on our way to my home for the next four days.
Jeff Garrison Mayberry & Bluemont Churches September 13, 2026 Psalm 5
The sermon was recorded at Mayberry on Friday, September 11, 2026.
At the beginning of worship:
Mozart’s greatest opera, Don Giovanni, tells the Don Juan story. Don Giovanni has three passions: food, drink, and women, especially women named Donna. He attempts affairs with Donna Elvira and Donna Anna. Through his attempt to seduce the latter, he’s challenge by her father. He kills him. At the end of the opera, the father returns as a statue from the graveyard, to claim Don Giovanni’s life. He’s urged to repent before it’s too late. To do so, he must renounce his life. He can’t do it and the opera ends with him being dragged by demons into hell. In his mind, the torments of hell are better than giving up what he enjoyed in life.
Hopefully, most of us don’t begin our theology with hell. If truth be told, we don’t want to think about hell. And, I suggest, spending too much time thinking about hell is dangerous. We’ve been too conditioned to think of hell by Dante and the like. But perhaps there is a reason for hell.
What would heaven be like for Donna Anna and Donna Elvira if Don Giovanni showed up? It seems to me it would be less than paradise. Some people’s presence, without great purification, would have the ability to destroy heaven. Actually, and this is important to remember and should keep us humble, we will all need some form of sanctification or purification to come face-to-face with God. And, as I’ll explore in today’s sermon, only by God’s grace will we arrive.
Before reading the text:
As I did during the fall of last year, I plan to mostly preach from the the Book of Psalms this season. I will use Psalms which I have not yet preached on over the past 40 years. I have preached on over half of the Psalter, but that still leaves me a lot from which to choose. Today, we’ll look at the 5th Psalm.
This is a personal lament. The Psalmist, and this is the third Psalm attributed to David, complains to God about people telling lies about him. He ask God to intervene on his behalf. But while this is a personal lament, the Psalm itself was proclaimed within the community at worship. We should remember the Psalms were Israel’s hymnal. They were sung and prayed in worship. And while this Psalm centers around the complaint of an individual, it ends incorporating the entire community.
As I preach through the Psalm, it could be helpful to keep your Bibles open and to follow along. Don’t just follow in the reading, but use it as a reference for my interpretation of the passage.
One more thing. This Psalm also nicely follows up to my sermon of a few weeks ago when I preached on the 9th Commandment: Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.
Read Psalm 5:
Let me suggest from the beginning, the good news from this Psalm applies to one enduring slander, bullying, and deceit. It seems depressing, filled with judgment and consequences. But not if we understand the Psalm from the one bullied or facing slander and lies. The Psalm addresses the oppressed individual’s needs and offers hope for those who strive to live righteous lives.
I think many within our nation felt this way back on 911. Remember that day twenty-five years ago when it seemed our world fell apart. We knew we were attacked but didn’t understand why or what was happening. It was a scary time. This Psalm addresses such a time, especially within our personal lives.
Our Psalm begins with an appeal to God. We might also call it a Call to Worship, as we do when we gather on Sunday mornings. The Psalmist demands an audience with God. His, assuming David wrote this Psalm, troubles are so great that only God can help. Twice this Psalm demands God to listen. Such repetition emphasizes the demand. The sad words come as a sighing, a cry, a prayer, offered at worship in the morning. Of course, if David was the original author, some changes occurred to the Psalm as it appears the Psalm was adapted for use in the temple, which didn’t exist during David’s reigns. But let’s not dwell there.
We should focus instead on David’s anguish. He must have had a sleepless night. He worries about those who spread false rumors. Have you ever heard a rumor about something you supposedly did or said, and then had a hard time turning off the tape within your brain which plays the accusation over and over? That’s must be what’s happening within David’s mind as he worries about his reputation.
This psalm does not inform us of God’s reply. But the Psalmist obviously thinks God listens, for he continues into the second part of the prayer. Perhaps faith draws David forth, Starting in verse 4, he acknowledge God’s traits. God despises wickedness. Evil cannot exist in God’s presence.
This leads the Psalmist to assume those whose tell the destroying lies will not enjoy God’s presence. For the bloodthirsty and deceitful will never stand before the Lord. God is holy and those polluted will never find an audience with the Almighty.
A shift then occurs in verse 7. The Psalmist feels called into God’s presence. Notice, it’s not because of the Psalmist’s righteousness. Rather, the God who cares for the meek of the earth, invites the Psalmist in through God’s steadfast love. The Psalmist enters in awe, with head bowed, perhaps knowing he’s not worthy.
In the next verse, the Psalmist asks for supplication. “God, lead me through my enemies, make your path straight for me.” When we are in trouble, we may find ourselves with no one but God who can help. It’s also important we don’t try to take things in our hands. If we do so, we might make a bigger mess of things. Vengeance is mine says the Lord, a passage found in both the Old and New Testament. We are not to seek revenge, instead we’re to ask God to show us how to live into the future.
Next, in verses 9 and 10, comes the Psalmist complaint. Earlier, when he acknowledged God’s goodness, the Psalmist established God as one who despises wickedness. Now he brings before God those can’t stand before the Almighty. They lie and plan destruction. Their mouths are like open graves, they can flatter but can also kill. Standing them
before God, the Psalmist wants to assure they pay the price for their treachery. Yet, notice their fall isn’t because of God. Their own counsel tripped them up. Having rebelled against God, they find themselves cast out from God’s presence. As with Donna Anna in Mozart’s opera, the deceitful one must be banished before she can enjoy life.
With the concern of those who slander and make his life difficult off the Psalmist chest, we move to close the prayer. The Psalmist prays for the righteous within the community. While this is a personal lament, it also applies to the community of faith, those who seek refuge in God. The Psalmist asks for protection upon the community. May those who are innocent be covered with God’s favor.
The Psalmist, in a way, prays for God’s kingdom to be fulfilled. “They will be done, thy kingdom come,” we pray. Such a kingdom, according to the Beatitudes, consist of those who are poor in spirit. It also includes the meek, those who long for righteousness, who show mercy, who have pure hearts, who seek peace, and have been persecution for righteousness’ sake. The Psalmist fits within many of these traits.
We’re shown in this psalm how to take our troubles to God. We can bring God our concerns and seek out God protections when threatened.
But I want to address one other thing. It seems this song divides the world into the good and bad. However, we must be careful of such dual thinking. After all, as the Apostle Paul reminds us, we’ve all have sinned and fallen short of the Glory of God. In Romans 3, the Apostle Paul draws from this Psalm among others to indict all people of our sinfulness. Even David, to whom the Psalm is attributed, did things which did not please nor bring God glory. This was especially true with him setting up Uriah’s death so that he could cover up his adultery with Bathsheba.
So, if we’re all guilty, how can we come before God? We find the answer back in verse 7. We can only come before God by God’s steadfast love. That’s grace. God answers the prayers of those bullied in life, but God will also answer the prayers of the bully, if they repent of their behavior. But that’s the topic for another sermon.
So when you are beaten down by life, let’s take your troubles to God. And while we try to live and do what is right, we know we are not always so innocent. God will help us when we are bullied, as in the case of the Psalm. But we should also remember this: God looks out for those we bully. Amen.
Sources:
Alter, Robert, The Book of Psalms: A Translation with Commentary. New York: W. W. Norton, 2007.
Mast, Stan. “Psalm 5:1-8 Commentary for Sunday, June 12, 2016”
This is a piece I wrote in 2013. I focus on a stop during an eight hour drive. I drove up the length of Michigan, then halfway across the Upper Peninsula. It also appeared in a post in “The Trackside Photographer” in 2018.
Crossing the Big Mac into Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, I pay the four dollar toll at St. Ignace for the privilege. But I don’t follow US 2 which runs along Lake Michigan shoreline nor I-75 which rushes to Sault St. Marie. Instead, I opt for Michigan 123 which runs into the heart of the UP. The road follows the former roadbed of the Duluth, South Shore and Atlantic Railroad. Ernest Hemingway rode this line a few years after the Great War. He and some friends traveled to a fish camp along the East Branch of the Fox River outside of Seney, Michigan. That adventure provided the fodder for his classic short story, “The Big Two Hearted River.” In those days, one crossed the Straits of Mackinac by ferry. In 1957 the bridge opened, spanning the straits.
It’s getting late in the afternoon when I stop at Trout Lake. There is a small IGA here with wonderful sandwiches, piled high with sliced meats. As I plan to have dinner with friends once I arrive in Marquette, I choose instead a cone of hand-dipped black cherry ice cream. Waiting for the clerk, I look around the store for a minute. In addition to groceries and a deli, they have fishing and camping gear and some hardware. The store seems to be a place from the past, which is why I like stopping here.
Stepping outside, the bells of the railroad crossing clang. I walk around the building to watch a CN engine pulling a mixed assortment of log and tank cars in from the Sault. The engineer stops at the “Y”, just shy of the road crossing. The brakeman steps off, unlocks and then turns the switch. The train proceeds. Its diesels rumble and cars sway, as it makes its way through the junction. After crossing the highway, the train takes the tracks which runs toward Seney. Eventually, I assume, it’s destination is the paper mill at Munising. I watch it rumble down the tracks for a few minutes, then get back in my truck and continue driving.
I’ve stopped at Trout Lake many times, but have never lingered more than a few minutes. But I like the area and the IGA with its wonderful ice cream and homemade sandwiches. There’s a nice lake here, a few hundred years south, as I can see through the pines. Today, this area seems so isolated, mainly a place for fishermen on the lake to replace tackle or buy beer and for snowmobilers to fill up in winter as they race through on their cross-country runs across the UP. It’s not always been this laid back.
A 100 years ago, Trout Lake was a small but bustling community at the crossroads of the Eastern UP. The Duluth, South Shore and Atlantic Railroad which ran across the South Shore of Lake Superior crossed the Soo Tracks here as it headed toward St. Ignace. The Soo ran from Ontario, through Sault Ste. Marie and past Trout Lake to Naubinway and along the North Shore of Lake Michigan through Manistique, Gladstone, into Wisconsin and eventually to Minneapolis.
Today, the old Duluth line only runs from this point to Munising, mainly servicing a paper mill and a lumber yard. The old Soo line is still intact, but the track gauge is light as is the amount of freight rumbling along the line. Over the years these railroads have gone by a number of names and an equal number of owners. Today, they’re operated by the Wisconsin Central (it’s an old name but a new corporation which handles a collection of lines own by the Canadian National). Sadly, the Duluth and Boston Express and other passenger trains along this line stopped running long before my birth.
I drive west, crossing the lines of the old Duluth, South Shore and Atlantic several times as I head across the UP on Michigan 28, passing through the quiet towns of McMillan, Seney, Shingleton and Chatham.
Jeff Garrison Mayberry and Bluemont Churches September 6, 2026 The Tenth Commandment
The sermon was recorded at Mayberry Presbyterian Church on Thursday, September 3, 2026
At the beginning of worship:
How many of you have seen the movie, “The God’s Must Be Crazy?” Released in 1980, I think consider it one of the funniest films of all times. When the movie opens, you think you’re watching a documentary produced by the National Geographic Society. A serious narrator introduces a primitive tribe in Africa. Everyone lives in perfect harmony as they share everything. These folks have not had contact with the outside world. They’ve not been corrupted; they’re happy and content. But all that changes.
One day a bush pilot flies over their meager village and after chugging down a bottle of Coke, he drops the empty bottle out of the window. Those on the ground think the empty soda bottle is a gift from the gods. And their lives improve for they find many uses for the bottle. It serves as a hammer. The sun reflects through the glass allowing them to build fires. You get the idea; the bottle quickly becomes a handy tool. Soon, since there’s only one bottle, the tribes harmony breaks apart. They fight over who has the right to use the bottle.
Finally, the elders gather and decide the gods must be crazy to have sent such a dangerous gift. They choose one man to take the bottle back to the gods—in other words back to civilization. The movie continues with his journey and you’ll have to watch it to find out what happens. But to tie this into our theme for today, covetousness leads to disharmony.
Before reading the scripture:
We’ve come to the end. Or at least the last of my sermons on the Ten Commandments. It’s been a long summer and I’m sure you’re ready for something else.
Today, we’re looking at the 10th Commandment, the sin of coveting. This may even be the first sin we commit. It’s a sin which could go by many names such as jealously, envy, lust, or “keeping up with the Jones.” Today, I’ll read through the commandments. Remember, they’re all important.
Read Exodus 20:1-17
Coveting, that desire to have what doesn’t belong to us, has always been a problem. It’s the foundation of the original sin. In the garden, Adam and Eve enjoyed everything they needed to have a happy life. Only one thing in the garden remained off-limits, the tree of knowledge. We often interpret this to be an apple tree, although the story doesn’t identify a specie. However, think of it this way. If the tree was an apple, they could have eaten their fill of oranges, pears, apricots, and peaches. Just one tree that they had to avoid, but they couldn’t do it.
Like a magnet, they’re draw straight for the forbidden tree. It became too tempting. Listening to a serpent, Eve takes a bite and offers it to Adam and they enjoy the fruit. Maybe it was a juicy apple so when they took a bite, the juices dripped from the corners of their mouths. They disobeyed God because they wanted what did not belong to them.
We learn to covet at an early age, or maybe it is instilled into us, either way, it’s wrong. We see covetousness manifesting itself in children, which is why I think it might be one of the first sins we commit. A child, when very young, learns the word “mine.” If he or she doesn’t want to let another child play with a toy, the toddler will clutch the toy in his or her arms. If another child has a toy they want, they’ll grab it and shout, “mine.” And as a child matures and learns to follow directions, they’ll get to the age when they are always testing the limits. At this stage in their development, the easiest way to get a child do something is to declare it off-limits. Tell a kid it’s off-limits and like Adam and Eve in the Garden, they’ll be doing it in a heart-beat.
Coveting starts early; we want what does not belong to us and it seems we’re easily seduced by the forbidden. When I was right out of seminary and serving a church in Ellicottville, New York, I remember an overpass on the road heading toward Buffalo. Someone wrote on the concrete, in graffiti, “I don’t want it all; I just want your half.” There’s a lot of truth to that statement. It’s coveting at its best.
The problem of coveting has always been with us. As I’ve shown, it was there in the Garden of Eden, but I wonder if it didn’t become worse in the 20th Century with catalogs like Sears and Roebuck, J. C. Penny, and Montgomery Wards. It’s strange to think of those catalogues being a thing of the past, but now we have Amazon. We can shop and drool over the keyboard. Now, acquisition in and of itself isn’t bad. But the motives which drive us to want what others have can be a problem. For we find ourselves focusing, as Christ warns, not on treasures in heaven, but on storing up that which rots and rust, that which thieves can steal.
As a kid, the only good thing about going back to school was the arrival of the Sears Christmas Catalog, or The Wishbook as it was known. The catalog should have been called the coveter’s handbook. It arrived in the mail early in September, right after school resumed. I still remember the excitement felt the day we came home on the bus and discovered catalog sitting on the kitchen table. Its arrival created a war between my brother and sister and I. We’d all argue about who got to look at it first, and over the next several days, we’d spend hours looking at all the neat toys and making our lists for Christmas. “I want, I want” it’s an early phrase we learn as a child. Looking at the pictures of the kids on the pages of the catalog, playing in a toy utopia, caused our mouths to water. And by having a brother and sister meant that I got to break this commandment in two ways. Not only did I covet the toys in the catalog, I coveted the catalog itself, when in the hands of my brother or sister. The catalog encouraged a double violation of this sin.
There’s been a lot of discussion about the tenth commandment probably starting right after the Hebrew people broke camp and moved away from the mountain. It is often pointed out that the commandment doesn’t fit with the other commandments on the second table of the law which deal with our relationship with one another. After all, murder, adultery, theft and false witness are all sins that involve an action. But covetousness, desiring something that belongs to someone else—be it their wife (or their husband if you’re a woman), their servants, their possessions, their land—isn’t a sin that can be seen. It resides in our heart. No actions required.
We can hide our desires and go around life with a poker face and fool people. We can be praise for our good deeds when, in reality, such deeds may have been done for less than honest reasons. The desire to have something which belongs to someone else, is the root sin which may only becomes visible when one of the other commandments are broken. Think about it, psychopaths aside, people don’t go around murdering because they enjoy it. Murder generally occurs because one protects, or thinks he or she protects, one’s self interest. The same is true with adultery, stealing and bearing false witness, sins which are committed because we put our own interest above that of the community. All of this is a result of coveting. Our wants and desires lead us down a dangerous path of thinking we’re more valuable than others.
John Calvin, in the Institutes of the Christian Religion, suggests that instead of focusing on our desires, we do the opposite: that we focus on our neighbor’s good. Such a technique will help us control our urges to want what we do not have and, as the commandments are so designed, will result in a healthier community. These laws help strengthen our relationship with God and with one another.
I want to suggest a danger of misinterpreting and wrongly applying the tenth commandment. If we’re not careful, we can use the command to condemn others who desire to improve their lives. Perhaps the best example of this would be to criticize of a group of oppressed people who desire freedom to live a life of dignity and provide for their families. To use this commandment as a way to condemn, we cover our butts, not wanting them to have what we have. Such response breaks the intention or the spirit of the commandment. God gave us these rules for the betterment of all people, and to use it as a means of oppression dishonors God. After all, Israel was an oppressed people in Egypt. Perhaps in such a case, instead of criticizing, we should heed the Jesus’ words, “Judge not.”
The sin of coveting is something only we can identify within ourselves. Jesus desires our hearts be pure and when we spend all our time focusing on our neighbor’s possessions, we lose the ability to be grateful and generous. We then tend to focus on our own desires and slowly turn away from our Savior and our neighbor.
The tenth commandment makes a great ending to the laws given to Moses. He start out with the warning not have any other gods. God is all-sufficient. We end the commandments with a prohibition against dwelling on what we don’t have. When it comes to stuff, we can never have enough to satisfy our desires. This is why coveting can be so dangerous, for our desires will keep us from being grateful to God for what we have. Our desires will eventually set us at odds with our neighbors. It’s a hard command to keep for temptation abounds, for we’re always being reminded by advertising of what we need (even if we never knew we needed it. We’re also reminded of what everyone else has (even if they don’t have it). Therefore, we feel we’re left out. Such messages, when we believe them, are deadly lies which undermine our dependence upon God.
Do we worship the God who can satisfy our longings, or worship stuff that leaves us hungry for more? The choice is ours. Amen.
Sources: Calvin, John. Institutes of the Christian Religion, Ford Lewis Battles, translator (1559) ______. Sermons on the Ten Commandments, Benjamin W. Farley, translator (Grand Rapids, Baker, 1980), Childs, Brevard S. The Book of Exodus: A Critical, Theological Commentary (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1974), 419-421. Christensen, Duane L, Deuteronomy 1-11: (Word Biblical Commentary Waco: Word, 1991). Davidman, Joy. Smoke on the Mountain (1955, London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1963). Garrison, Jeff. “Sermon on the 10th Commandment at First Presbyterian Church of Hastings, Michigan. “(September 2, 2007). Hauerwas, Stanley and William Willimon, The Truth About God: The Ten Commandments in Christian Life (Nashville: Abingdon, 1999). Miller, Patrick D. The Ten Commandments: Interpretations, Resources for the Use of Scripture in the Church (Louisville, WJKP, 2009)
