May 2025 - From a Rocky Hillside

May 22, 2025May 23, 2025

Pittsburgh to Washington Bicycle Ride, Part 1

Photo of author on Hot Steel Bridge, Pittsburgh and a map of the trail

“I was asleep. I had been told to wear ear plugs to block the train noise,” he said. “At 4 AM, I work up to my tent shaking and people yelling. At first, I couldn’t make it out, but then realized they were saying the water rising and I must get to get out.” This was the experience of another bicyclist along the Great Allegheny Passage. He had camped on the banks of the Youghiogheny River, just outside West Newton. He got up just in time to pull his tent and gear to higher ground. Then he joined in the effort to help others with the rising water.

I didn’t get his name. My guess is he was in his 40s and from York, Pennsylvania. We met him on Friday morning, at Meyersdale. He was heading out on his last day on the trail. He would complete the “GAP”, (the Great Allegheny Passage) that afternoon after a 24-mile downhill run. Later that day, as we ate lunch at an overlook just outside the Big Savage Tunnel, my brother recalled his positive attitude. Such an attitude pays off when confronted with challenges.

Day 1: Getting to Pittsburgh

Warren and I began our journey on Tuesday afternoon, when his brother-in-law Hitch dropped us off a block from “The Point” in Pittsburgh. This is the confluence of the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers, where they form the Ohio River.

Flight 93 Memorial showing the flight path taken on Sept. 11, 2001

It had rain heavily for two days. On Monday, after planting the tomatoes I’d grown from seed in my garden, I’d drove in rain to Hancock, Maryland. The next morning, Warren and Hitch picked me up. I left my car at the Hancock Presbyterian Church. In the rain, we loaded my gear in my brother’s car and placed my bike next to his on this rack. We took the backroad, US 30, which had been the Lincoln Highway before the interstates, so that we could stop at the Flight 93 Memorial near Shanksville. The museum was sobering, but it rain too hard to do anything outside. Then, in Irwin, I introduced the two of them to a Western Pennsylvania stable, an Eat-n-Park Restaurant.

Thankfully, as we approached the city, the downpour weakened to a drizzle. Warren pulled the car over a block from Point State Park. We got our bikes off and loaded. Hitch took the keys to drive the car back to his home in Washington. Warren and I headed out to the Point. Looking over the city I called home for three years; I pointed out several landmarks to my brother. Of course, in the nearly 40 years since I moved to the Steel City, many things had changed. Three River Stadium was gone. Replacing it along the north side of the river was two new venues, one a football stadium for the Steelers and PNC Park, where the Pirates play.

Day 1: The Point to Homestead, 8 miles

Pittsburgh downtown from the Hot Metal Bridge

The GAP runs along the east side of the Monongahela through downtown, until it crosses over to the west side of the river on the “Hot Metal Bridge.” When steel was still being made on the Southside and at the J&L plant just outside of Oakland (home of the University of Pittsburgh), this bridge was still in use. When I lived in Pittsburgh, the Southside had been converted to an upscale shopping district known as Station Square. J&L was still running but would close before I left the city. We continued along the river, stopping at a hotel in Homestead. We only rode 8 miles in a hour which included a lot of stops along the way.

Homestead

Homestead had been completely remade since I lived in Pittsburgh. While there, they began to tear down the huge US Steel plant, which ran for four miles along the river. The first book about the city I read after moving there was Thomas Bell’s Out of this Furnace. The novel, published in 1941, told the story of three generations of eastern Europeans who worked at the mills in Homestead and across the river in Braddock. I found myself making several trips to Homestead, especially after they started tearing down the mill. Today, where the mill once sat is a community of apartments, condos, hotels, restaurants, parks, and shopping. After arriving at the hotel, we explored the community on foot.

Day 2: Homestead to McKeesport, 51 miles

We left the hotel in Homestead at 7:45 AM. The remnants of steel mills were all around us with only one mill appearing to operate. Before McKeesport, we had a long detour as they resurfaced the trail. At McKeesport, we crossed over the Monongahela and began our climb alongside the Youghiogheny River. As we were leaving McKeesport, having traveled along some streets, my back tire went flat. Stopping, I discovered an inch and a half finishing nail through the tire and the tube. I replaced it with a fresh tube and after about 15 minutes we were again riding.

The trail along this section consisted of former industrial sites and some forest. With the river to our left, we occasionally would have a waterfall to our right. Often, these falls carried toxic waste from coal mines and left an orange sludge on the rocks.

Lunch in West Newton

At West Newton, we stopped at a bike shop where I picked up a new tube. I kept the old tube to repair so that I would have two tubes available. We’d been told of a good restaurant along the river, just behind the bike shop, but it was closed. The shop suggested we try Gary’s Chuckwagon, where for $15, I had a huge slab of a beer-battered fried cod (fish) on a homemade hoagie bun.

water from a mine (thankfully, you don’t have to smell the sulfur)

Coming out of West Newton, I spotted a possum. It appeared to have badly matted hair. When I got closer, I realized the matted mess of hair were younger possums getting a ride on mom. These weren’t small possums. They looked to be about half grown. I would have thought the mother would have told them it was time to start walking by themselves.

About eight miles from Connellsville, our evening destination, the skies opened. We took shelter for a while under an overpass with two other riders. When the rain subsided, we began to ride again, only to have another downpour. By the time we reached the hotel in Connellsville, we were both soaked, and our bikes were dirty from the mud. Thankfully, the Comfort Inn where we were staying had a wash station for bikes, which we used. They also had a room, which was locked at night, where we could store our bikes. That evening we ate at the River’s Edge Restaurant. I wasn’t overly hunger, so I had a bowl of shrimp bisque and a salad.

Day 3, Connellsville to Rockwood, 45 miles

We left again at 8:15 in the morning. This was my favorite section as we left behind old industry and mostly peddled through woodlands with lovely stops at Ohiopyle, an old resort town that features some of America’s best whitewater. However, due to the high water levels, no one was kayak or rafting. We stopped at ate lunch in the park at Confluence. Warren had brought a couple of Underwood Chicken Salad cans and was wanting to rid himself of the extra weight. I grabbed an extra bagel at breakfast and used it to make a sandwich.

The trail became noticeable steeper, especially after Confluence, as we broke away from the Youghiogheny River and followed the Casselman River. But the bed was wider, probably because of requiring double tracks on this steep section. It was easy to ride double through much of this section. For some reason, my left Achilles tendon began to bother me the more I rode. As for animals, I saw several deer and a few garner snakes.

We were the only people staying at the Rockwood Trail House, a bed and breakfast in which the hosts lived elsewhere. Max, whom we’d met the day before, stayed by himself in another B&B. The old home had been magnificently restored. It was also well stocked with healthy breakfast makings including yogurt, multiple kinds of granola, fruits, boiled eggs, and breads. For dinner, we walked into town (about a half mile) and ate at the Rock City Bar and Café. It was your typical Western Pennsylvanian bar with cheap bottle beer ($2.50 each) and great burgers. I had a Rocket Burger, which included sautéed mushroom, peppers, onions with cheese sticks. Including the beer, my tab was $13.65.

Day 4, Rockwood to Cumberland, 43 miles

I woke up after a weird dream mixed with people from the church I served in Michigan with the church in which I grew up in North Carolina. The morning was humid. After eating fruit, granola, and yogurt for breakfast, we headed out. It felt like rain. We still had 19 miles of climbing, but the grade was less than it had been the day before. After an hour, we were in Meyersdale. Thankfully, the trail runs high above the town where there was a nice museum in the old depot. I purchased a GAP/C&O Canal shirt. The town had experienced bad flooding earlier in the week. The trail also became more rutted from the water that eroded the bed. It was at the museum that we met the guy who had been flooded out of his tent site earlier in the week.

After Meyersville, we had another six miles of climbing as we made our way to the Eastern Continental Divide. Shortly afterwards, we passed through the Big Savage Tunnel. While I had a light for my handlebars, I didn’t reedit as we discovered the 3,294 feet tunnel had lights. Coming out of the tunnel on the south end, we were treated to a magnificent view of the mountains to our east. As we took photos of the tunnel, we spoke to a biker heading to Pittsburgh. He was riding a commuter bike with a metal basket on the front. He’d come from Washington and told of the flooding and long detours and carrying his bicycle through knee-depth water along the C&O. He hoped for our sake; things would be drying out. It wouldn’t.

Downhill from the Savage Tunnel

After the tunnel, we stopped for lunch. Eating tuna salad sandwiches, we could hear the wisp of windmills generating electricity from the ridge above the tunnel. While we still had a little over 20 miles to go, we felt as if we had completed the trail as it was downhill from here. A mile or less after the tunnel, we paused at the monument for the Mason Dixon line, which separates Pennsylvania from Maryland. Crossing over, we were officially back in the South!

Western Maryland tourist train between Frostburg andCumberland

The GAP passes underneath the town of Frostburg. We talked of ice cream, but it required a climb to get into the town. Frostburg is a college town and on both sides of the town, we passed college students walking and running along the trail. About a mile south of Frost burg, I had another flat on my back tire. This time, I couldn’t find the cause. But the tube had a ¼ inch hole not far from the valve stem. One set of tracks of the Western Maryland still operate through this section and moments after having sat on the raised ballast to change my tube, a tourist train came down the tracks.

Taking refuge in the Brush Tunnel during a Thunderstorm

As the trail became steeper going down the hill, it also became more washed out. Instead of flying downhill, we had to control our speed on a roadbed that felt like a washboard. At places, the trail was so rough we walked the bikes. Clouds began to build, and thunder could be heard. We entered the 914-foot Brush Tunnel as the skies opened and waited out the storm inside. Another biker, who had ridden much of which had walked, joined us. The rocky and jarring path had caused him to lose both his light and his water bottles.

In Cumberland, at the end of the GAP

As the rain slowed, we again ventured out and rode all the way into Cumberland, arriving a little after 4 PM. We had hope to get there before the National Park Service office for the C&O Canal closed, but learned they work only till 4 PM. The rain and lightning had slowed us down and we just missed them. A maintenance employee for the park service came out and talked to us, confirming our fears. Parts of the trail were completely washed out and closed. We then went to a bike shop where we learned that the bypass to the C&O wasn’t a good option as it was a narrow windy road with semis traveling on it. We tentatively made plans for a shuttle in the morning.

Next, we headed to the Ramada Inn, where they had a room for bikes. After cleaning up, we headed out for dinner. Checking in as we were leaving was another biker who had passed us. He had continued along the C&O but came to place where he couldn’t go any further and didn’t want to ride the roadway. He came back to Cumberland and was planning to take the next day’s train to Pittsburgh.

We ate dinner at City Lights, a place that sounded a lot like a North Beach bookstore in San Francisco (and there’s another one in Iowa City). I had a Greek Salad with grilled chicken, which was delicious. After dinner, we walked around town, crossing a creek to see the Cumberland First Presbyterian Church, where I had once preached during my second year of seminary. We headed to bed early, not knowing what the next day would hold. At least, we’d completed the GAP.

Hopefully, I’ll write about the C&O experience next week.

A toast (with coffee) at the end of GAP and the beginning of the C&O

May 11, 2025May 11, 2025

Ephesus: The Church Who Forgot to Love

Title Slide with photo of two rock churches

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
May 11, 2025
Revelation 2:1-7

At the beginning of worship:
Let me tell you a bit about Sam Jones. He was one of America’s most popular preachers in the late 19^th and early 20^th Century. You could sum his message up in this manner: “Quit your meanness!” At his peak, he often outdrew Dwight Moody. Many considered him a better preacher. By all accounts, he was funnier.

Sam Jones is mostly forgotten. While there have been numerous biographies of Moody, there’s only been one of Jones published since his death in 1906. Laughter in the Amen Corner came out in 1993.^[1] Reading this book I learned Jones was from Cartersville, Georgia. It’s just a jump from Donna’s hometown. The next time we visited, I insisted on going. Donna thought I’d lost my mind and acted like Cartersville was on the far side of the earth.

That didn’t matter. I drove the 15 miles over to Cartersville. I wanted to see the town that produced Sam Jones.

Cartersville is a pleasant railroad town. Lots of trains race through the town, but they no longer stop. For Civil War buffs, this is the same railroad grade upon which the great train chase with the locomotive “The General” occurred.

As with most county seats, the courthouse sits on a hill in the middle. Three churches flank the courthouse in Cartersville. Looking up from the train station, you have the Baptist on the left and the Methodist on the right. We Presbyterians are behind the courthouse—but we had a fine church there, one we cand be proud of. I walked around town to see what I could glean.

At the Baptist Church, I learned Lottie Moon, the famous missionary to China and for whom the Southern Baptist have named their world mission offerings after, grew up in that church. And then, at the Methodist Church, I was surprised to see it named for Sam Jones. A few years after Jones’ death, they built a new sanctuary and named it, according to the cornerstone, “The Sam Jones Memorial Methodist Episcopal Church, South. (This was before all the mergers leading to the United Methodist Church.) I was amazed that this little town produced two of the South’s most famous religious figures in the late 19^th Century. I was a bit envious, wondering when the Presbyterian Church would catch up.

Although Jones was a proud Southern Methodist, it didn’t make much difference to him what flavor of religion one belonged. “A creed hasn’t’ got legs,” Jones often quipped, ‘and I can’t follow it.” And he’s right. Ultimately, we’re not called to be Presbyterian or Methodist or Baptist, but to follow the Savior. Jones humor was such that it pointed out human folly. “I could never preach,” he told a reporter, shyly adding, “but I can talk a little.” Once Jones got the crowd laughing at themselves, he’d introduce them to Jesus. It’s not a bad strategy.

Before reading the Scriptures

Starting today, we’re going to look at each of the seven churches of Revelation. While all of Revelation is a letter, there are individual messages to seven churches, which we were introduced to last week.

These seven churches are in towns which form a circle along a Roman postal route.^[2] Jesus is present within each church, so he’s able to communicate what’s happening in the life of each congregation. But it would be a mistake to think these letters only applies to the seven individual churches. The number seven, the divine number, implies fullness. So, within these letters we find situations that are present in our churches still today; hence, looking at these letters will be a lot like us looking in a mirror.

These seven messages within the larger letter all take on a similar form. They’re addressed to an angel of each church. Christ is the author, but for each church a different metaphor is employed to refer to his identity. In most cases, there is praise for what the church does well as well as condemnation for where they fail.^[3]

Like these churches, we’d probably find Christ evaluating us in a similar manner, patting us on the back for the good we do and chastising us for the times we fail to live up to his standards.

The first church in our visit is Ephesus. We know a lot about the early life of this church from the book of Acts. We also have Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. Christianity was probably brought to Ephesus by Priscilla and Aquila around 52 A.D.^[4] Paul spent a couple years in the city. So did Timothy. Ephesus bustled with trade in the first century. A port city of nearly quarter million people, it sat on a major trade route into Asia.

The city boasted several major pagan temples, the most important one being for the Greek fertility goddess Artemis (the Roman goddess Diana). We know from Acts the silversmiths of this temple rioted because people were converting to Christianity and buying fewer pagan statues.^[5] Trade wars are nothing new.

Let’s turn to Scripture and see what Jesus has to say to this congregation.

Read Revelation 2:1-7.

Think for a minute. Do you know any Christians who used to have a vibrant faith, was a pleasure to be around, but since has become a legalist? Someone joyous and happy, but now bitter? Someone who use to be sweet and are now sour? Perhaps you’re feeling this way. It seems to be a common occurrence. We burn out. We lose focus. And we have all the right intentions but find ourselves bogged down in petty disputes.

As the revivalist Sam Jones, whom I introduced earlier this morning, once said, creating a commonly used cliché, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” We start out with great plans but become sidetracked. Perhaps that’s what happened to the church in Ephesus. Or maybe they just felt good demanding other people obey God’s law. It gave them a sense of authority which is why humility is so important.

The Ephesians are zealous enforcers of orthodoxy. They tow the party line. They deal with heretics, those whose teachings go against the gospel, swiftly. The congregation has been patiently waiting for Christ’s return and has not grown weary. That sounds good. But then the tone of the letter changes, as Jesus charges them for abandoning the love they once had.

It appears the Ephesians started off being a loving community. But their love waned. They put too much emphasis on right and wrong beliefs. Now, according to this letter, While Jesus isn’t too happy with these false teachers, he’s even more concerned about the lack of love among the faithful. They’re like those Jesus condemns in the Sermon of the Mount. They try to take a speck out of someone’s eye with a log in their own.^[6]

In John’s Epistles, we’re told that God is love and those who love abides in God and God abides in them.^[7] The church in Ephesus, for all their insistence on believing right, missed the boat. As important as right doctrine may be, it’s more important to have a loving community. Surpassing all creeds in importance is the command to love.

John Leith, the late professor from Union Theological Seminary in Virginia, in the 1980s wrote a powerful little book titled The Reformed Imperative. It’s a challenge to fundamentalism—on both the left and right wings of the ideological spectrum. We tend to think of fundamentalism as conservative, but it can go either way. And both sides are wrong, according to Leith. Both make too simple distinctions between people.

“The gospel is hidden from those who in their self-righteousness are proud of their moral achievements,” he wrote. And those “who know that they are righteous by their identification with the proper causes,” yet are vindictive toward others who have different views, whom they desire “to discard, to destroy.”^[8] Fundamentalist according to Leith miss the good news.

In other words, those who think they’re religious, yet who do not love, find the gospel hidden. And those who make a big deal about their faith, but do not love, miss the gospel’s truth. And those who are proud of their righteousness, but hold others in disdain, miss the good news. Leith, writing about the church in the late 1980s, could also have been writing about churches today. And he could have been writing about Ephesus in the first century.

The Ephesians felt so good about their success in rooting out evil that they became self-assured of their righteousness. They forgot what’s most important. They forgot how to love. In striving to be right, they missed the gospel and became what they abhorred, heretics and hypocrites.

The dilemma of the church in Ephesus remains within the church today. How can we, the church, remain faithful to the truth while loving all people? It’s a tough challenge. Often someone quotes the cliché, “love the sinner, hate the sin.” But the tone of their voice makes me wonder if there is really love for the sinner. If we don’t love, despite right beliefs, we fall into the same trap as the Ephesians.

Many of you, I’m sure, remember the old Wendy’s commercial. A grandmother-looking lady shouts, “Where’s the beef?” The implications being a hamburger joint is judged by the amount of beef between the two halves of the bun. Likewise, the church is judged, not so much by our orthodoxy, but by our love. Where’s the love? That’s what we need to ask, that’s the way our faith is evaluated. Do we love one another?

Remember Sam Jones’ comments about not being able to follow a creed because “it ain’t got any legs.” What’s important is following Christ. We follow him who loved even his enemies and those who nailed him to the cross. Don’t get so hung up on making sure that everything is proper, and everyone acts up to our expectations. While proper thinking and right actions are important, it’s more important that we as a community love God and one another. Amen.

^[1] Kathleen Minnix, Laughter in the Amen Corner: The Life of Evangelist Sam Jones (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1973). Jokes and information on Jones from Minnix and from Doug Adams, Humor in the American Pulpit from George Whitefield through Henry Ward Beecher (Sharing, 1992).

^[2] G. B. Caird, The Revelation of St. John the Divine (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), 28.

^[3] For a detail discussion on the nature of each message see M. Eugene Boring, Revelation: Interpretation, A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1989), 85-97.

^[4] Robert H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation, revised edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 67

^[5] Acts 19:21ff

^[6] Matthew 7:3-5.

^[7] 1 John 4:7

^[8] John H. Lieth, The Reformed Imperative: What the Church Has to Say that No One Else Can Say (Louisville: Westminster,1988), 60-61.

May 9, 2025May 9, 2025

HopeWords 2025

title slide with photo of The Granada Theater

This is my third trip to Bluefield, West Virginia for the HopeWords Conference, which is held in the beautifully restored Granada Theater. This year’s theme was “Writing in the Dark.” I have also attended this conference in 2022 and 2023. Unlike the other years, probably because I wasn’t feeling well, I didn’t take many photos.

Bluefield is an interesting setting to discuss hope and writing, as the city has struggled in recent years. At one time, Bluefield was a happening place, as Travis Lowe, the founding director of HopeWords loves to tell. Lowe grew up in Bluefield and while he currently lives in Oklahoma, he still considered Bluefield home. While coal mining was just a bit west of Bluefield, the city grew as a supply point for the mines and for the railroads that served the mines. Still today, cars of coal are built up in the Bluefield rail yard to be hauled to distant locations to “make the electricity to light up the world.”

I had only two complaints about this year’s conference. Neither had anything to do with the conference and everything with my enjoyment of the event. The first had to do with the pollen count in the air. It was at an all-time high. My head pounded. I just wanted to sleep, which was hard because of sinus drainage causing me to wake as I coughed. The second was the replacement of the flooring in the hotel I stayed. In previous ones, I stayed in Princeton, about fifteen miles away, and the hotels were nicer. This time, I stayed in a Quality Inn in Bluefield, Virginia, about seven miles away. The hotel was older and will be nice once the remodeling is done, but for now is under construction.

Christian Wiman

Wiman served as the main speaker this year. The last conference I attended, in 2023, featured Miroslav Volf, a theologian from Yale. In introducing Wiman, Lowe noted that when Volf was the featured speaker, he confessed that he wasn’t worthy and recommended his colleague at Yale, Wiman. While Volf had much to add to the conference, it was a pleasure to hear Wiman, an excellent poet.

In Wiman’s opening lecture, he discussed faith and God, in contrast to religion. We only experience a fraction of God, yet we don’t have to name God for God to be God. God is always God. And our faith needs to be growing, as we put away our childhood and silly notions of the divine.

On the second day of the conference, Wiman and Lowe had a conversation. For some reason, I assumed (wrongly) that Wiman was European. He grew up in Texas, raised by parents who were first poor, then his father became a physician. He told about attending First Baptist Church in Dallas and writing a poem which first line went, “I love the Lord and He loves me.” He gave the poem to Criswell, the pastor, who had it published in the Baptist Standard. Wiman joked that his first poem was published when he was eight.

Hannah Anderson

Anderson was the first speaker on Saturday morning. This was a shame as I found her insights some of the best at the conference. Most attendees (myself included as I was five minutes late) missed the opening of her talk. Focusing on the conference theme, she spoke about a personal time of crisis (darkness) in which she felt she would never write again. She discussed the need to give herself permission to write again. She also reminded us how, in darkness, we can use other senses to experience the world. But she warned writers not to give too much artificial light into a dark situation. She closed with an essay of hers on Psalm 74, where she acknowledges that God creates light but doesn’t obliterate darkness.

I had read one of her books, Humble Roots, a few years ago. I picked up her book, All That’s Good, from the conference bookstore and recently read and reviewed it. I look forward to hearing wonderful things from my congregation about her as she’s scheduled to preach for me on June 22.

Karen Swallow Prior

This is Prior’s third appearance at HopeWords. Like Wiman, I’ve also seen her at Calvin’s Festival of Faith and Writing. She began discussing her upcoming book on “calling,” and then gave suggestions for those wanting to be writers:

1. Study language.
2. Read good words by others.
3. Seek honest feedback.
4. Writing is not the same as publishing.
5. Journal, it’s a place for you to record and work out ideas and you may have them burned after your death.
6. If you want to write to feel good about yourself, do something else. Writing is humbling.
7. Don’t write to make a living. While Prior is making money from writing, it’s only after 30 years of teaching in universities.
8. Do the writing you’re called to do.

Dr. Derwin Gray

Gray and his wife pastor Transformation Church outside of Charlotte, NC and has published several books. I am currently reading his book, How to Heal Our Racial Divide: What the Bible Says, and the First Christians Knew, About Racial Reconciliation.

As an African American, Gray attended Brigman Young University on a football scholarship. He later played five years for the Indianapolis Colts and a year for the Carolina Panthers. As he introduced himself, he joked that NFL meant, “Not For Long,” for most players only make it a few seasons. During his fifth year in Professional Football, another teammate led him to Christ. Since he retired from football, he has attended seminary and done doctoral work.

Gray began by telling his story. Much of his early years were spent in special education. He also didn’t grow up in church but, as he proclaims, “God loves to use the ordinary to do extraordinary things.” His talk resembled more of a sermon, mostly based on Psalm 23, with a lot of one-line zingers. “

“God is not a microwave. He’s more like a crockpot.”
“Our challenge: May our lives be better than our books.”
“Fight for your readers.”
“David defeated a giant but lost to lust.”
“All of life is worship.”
“Let your ink pen become a means of grace.”
and from the Roman philosopher Cicero: “The greatest form of revenge is not to become like your enemies.”

We had a long lunch hour, and I went back to the hotel and slept, causing me to miss the S. K. Smith, the afternoon’s first speaker.

Dr. Craig Keener

A professor at Asbury Theological Seminary, Dr. Craig Keener has been prolific in publishing commentaries on the Bible. While I have a decent commentary library with two or more commentaries on each book in the Bible, I have not read Keener. This cause of this oversight is that I tend to read mainly Reformed commentaries while Keener writes in the Wesleyan tradition.

Keener began his talk which he titled, “Writing Because It Matters,” with a confession. “I like writing better than speaking because you can edit before it’s public.” Most everyone laughed. He also confessed that it was because of God’s grace that he, someone diagnosed with ADHD, could become a writer.

Keener discussed his writing journey. From meeting two missionaries in high school, to his first wife leaving him, which locked him out of evangelical circles, he spoke about how writing and dealing with Scripture was forged with struggles. Fifteen years after his first wife left, he married a woman he met as a missionary in the Congo (she also has a PhD from the University of Paris). Together, they have a book, The Impossible Love.

Keener encouraged the writers in the crowd to remember that they’re not writing for themselves but for Jesus Christ.

Lewis Brogdon

Like Hannah Alexander and S. K. Smith, the last speaker on Saturday was another HopeWords regular. Lewis Brogdon, like Travis Lowe, is a native of Bluefield. He teaches homiletics at Baptist Seminary of Kentucky but also holds a part-time position at Bluefield College. Brogdon began discussing an upcoming book of his, The Gospel Beyond the Grave: Toward a Black Theology of Hope. While making the point how writing takes time, he suggested that this book had a long gestation period going back to article he read by a Catholic theologian 25 years ago. The theologian suggested that racial reconciliation would happen in purgatory. Of course, Brogdon acknowledged that as a Black Baptist, purgatory isn’t something he believes in, but the article caused him to think. Then, 23 years ago, his father died. These events, while also dealing with recent events in America, led to the book (which I will look forward to reading).

His theme was how writing can be a place of light, and he discussed how our journeys involve the work and word of God along with our own holy conversations.

Evening and Sunday morning

Inside Christ Episcopal after the service. I especially like the cork floors (which we have in our new addition at home).

After the final speaker, there was free time where I went back to my hotel and napped. Then I went to an evening reception. I wasn’t hungry and a small plate of hors d’oeuvres sufficed for dinner. I had conversations with a few folks but called it an early evening and headed back to the hotel for bed around 8 PM. On Sunday morning, I attended Christ Episcopal, where Amanda Held Opelt, who’d provided music between speakers at the conference, preached. Her text was from John 12:1-8 was on Mary of Bethany, the sister of Lazarus and Martha.

First Presbyterian Church, Bluefield WV — First Presbyterian Church, across from Christ Episcopal. Like most of the large downtown churches in Bluefield, they have lots of extra space. I recently learned that the Presbyterians have converted part of their extra space into bunk rooms for those coming in to volunteer for mission work in Appalachia.

May 4, 2025May 4, 2025

John’s Vision of the Resurrected Christ

Title Slide with photos of the two rock churches

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
May 4, 2025
Revelation 1:9-20

Sermon recorded on Friday, May 2, 2025, at Bluemont Church

At the beginning of worship:
We began our tour of the opening chapters of Revelation last Sunday. I devoted a bit of time in that sermon discussing the term used in verse 4, “Grace and Peace.”

I discovered something else about this term from a book I’d read almost 40 years ago. I’d forgotten this. The book I pulled off my shelf and reviewed is titled Comfort and Protest: The Apocalypse from a South African Perspective. Allan Boesak wrote it at the height of apartheid in his country. He drew on ancient Roman historians, to point out that this familiar greeting for Christians was also used by the Caesars.

But the message from Caesar, while proclaiming grace and peace, might lack it. Domitian, the emperor under whose reign some think Revelation was written, would always include these words in introductions to his proclamations, including those calling for a death sentence against his foes.^[1]

For the faithful in the first century, they had to ask themselves under whose grace they wanted to live. Would it be the “grace of Caesar, whose ‘mercy’ might spell death, destruction, and inhumanity’”? Or would it be the grace of God who frees us from fear and sin and saves us from death? Under whose grace do we live?

Before reading the Scripture
Today, we’ll look at John’s first vision in Revelation, where he sees Christ. This is the beginning of the letter to the seven churches. What we looked at last week was the salutation, the opening which was a common form for letters in the first century.

The body of John’s letter begins with a vision. This isn’t something uncommon. A vision kicked off the prophetic ministries of Isaiah and Ezekiel.^[2] It also kicks off John’s ministry. It’s awesome, yet it draws on a similar vision of the prophet Daniel. Overwhelmed, John falls as if he’s dead. But Christ lifts him up and by the time this opening vision ends, John is ready to begin writing what he has seen. Let’s listen to what John sees and hears his first vision:

Read Revelation 1:9-20
“I’m one of you,” John begins. He assures those who listen to his letter that he is their brother. John shares with them in persecution, in the hope for the coming kingdom, and in their endurance.

Furthermore, John preaches the gospel. And this preaching got him into trouble. He has been exiled to Patmos, a small rocky island some 75 miles east of Ephesus. There is no evidence the island was an Alcatraz, a prison for hardcore convicts.^[3] Instead, it seems to have been a place where the Romans sent troublemakers, knowing they’d be out of sight and not too much territory to get into mischief.

For John, this meant he lost his congregation and the ability to reach other communities with his preaching. But now, through this vision, God speaks through John by letter.

John tells us this vision happened on the Lord’s Day, a day when he would normally be gathering with other believers for worship. But in exile, he not able to do this. So, Christ comes to him, beginning with a loud voice with the blast like a trumpet saying, “Write this and send it to the seven churches.”

John turns to see where the voice is coming from, and he sees seven golden lampstands. Standing in the middle of these candlesticks is one who resembles the Son of Man, in other words Christ. This is not the Jesus John knew in Galilee. This is the resurrected Christ in all his glory. The candlesticks represent the church that is to bring light into a darken world.^[4] And Christ, standing in the middle, reminds us that he’s always with the church, even during times of persecution and danger.^[5]

The vision of the Son of Man is like the one Daniel experienced.^[6]Clothed with a long robe with a golden sash across his chest, his hair has turned white. While this may sound like Jesus had prematurely aged, the whiteness probably means purity. His eyes appear to have fire in them and his voice sounds like the rapids of a raving river.

Instead of taking this vision literally, each part is symbolic. The sharp two-edged sword from his mouth draws upon John’s gospel and the Book of Hebrews. In John’s gospel, Jesus is the Word become flesh.^[7] In Hebrews, we’re reminded God’s word is a sharp two-edged sword.^[8] In his hands he holds the seven stars. Again, as with the candlestands, the seven implies perfection. These stars represent the angels watching over the seven churches. Starting next week, we’ll see each church receives an individual message within the larger letter. The churches are not perfect.^[9] But they can be made perfect in Christ.

The feet of the Son of Man are bronze in John’s vision.

Again, this leads us back to the Book of Daniel. Nebuchadnezzar had a dream of a similar being, except that its feet were clay. When struck at the feet, the entire statue falls and shatters into pieces. Daniel interpreted this dream for the King of Babylon.^[10]

The vision in Daniel reminds us of the limitations of people and human organizations. Sooner or later, not only do we, but also our institutions, come to an end. Here, the feet of Christ are different. Bronze is made by combining iron and copper. Iron is strong but will rust. Copper won’t rust but is soft and pliable. But when forged together into bronze, the metals take the best from each to create an enduring material.^[11]

The feet of the comic Christ are not clay. They will stand while human organizations, sooner or later, will fail.

Some suggest the stars in Jesus’ hands presents an anti-astrology message. Instead of looking at the stars for the fate of the world, Jesus’ hands hold its fate. It’s also challenges the Roman Empire. The true cosmic leader is not the emperor but Christ.^[12]

While the vision of Christ draws on images of God, John doesn’t make Jesus and God two competing entries. Instead, John reminds us that God is revealed in Jesus Christ.^[13]

This vision overwhelms John. He falls as if dead. But Christ reaches out to lift him up and, as we often hear in Scripture when there is a divine or angelic encounter, John is told not to be afraid. Again, as we heard last week, Christ identifies himself as the first and last (or the A and Z).^[14]

Here we have a connection between the cosmic Christ and the earthly one, for he announces that he was dead (and remember, John was at the foot of the cross to watch^[15]), but he is now alive forever. The cosmic Christ assigns John a task. He’s to write what he has and will see. He’s also given clues to what he has seen, the symbolic meanings of the stars and lampstands.

What might we take from this passage? Can we find comfort in these words? Certainly, we can, if we follow Jesus. We are reminded, even when going into persecution, that he is with us. Jesus Christ, who remains with his church, is in control today and always. Regardless of what happens in this life, and bad things can happen, Jesus resides with us. In the life to come, we’ll reside with him. Thanks be to God. Amen.

^[1] Allan A. Boesak, Comfort and Protest: The Apocalypse from a South African Perspective (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1987), 47.

^[2] Isaiah 6 and Ezekiel 1.

^[3] Some have suggested Patmos was a prison, but most scholars disagree and see it mostly as a place of exile. See Robert H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation, Revised (1977, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997),54 (especially note #5).

^[4] Mounce, 57; Bruce M. Metzger, Breaking the Code: Understanding the Book of Revelation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1993), 26. .

^[5] G. B. Caird, The Revelation of St. John the Divine (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), 25.

^[6] Daniel 7:9-10.

^[7] John 1:14.

^[8] Hebrews 4:12.

^[9] See Revelation 2 and 3.

^[10] Daniel 2:31-35. See also https://fromarockyhillside.com/2021/08/22/gods-wisdom-vs-human-wisdom/

^[11] Eugene H. Peterson, Reversed Thunder: The Revelation of John and the Praying Imagination (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988), 35-36.

^[12] M. Eugene Boring, Revelation: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: JKP, 1989), 84. See also Mounce, 57.

^[13] Boring, 83. See also John 1:18 and 14:9.

^[14] See Revelation 1:4 and 1:8. See also https://fromarockyhillside.com/2025/04/27/the-beginning-of-revelation/

^[15] John 19:20. Some question John of Patmos being different than John of the gospel, but I disagree as their topics are too similar.

May 1, 2025May 1, 2025

Reviews of my April Readings

Timothy Egan, A Fever in the Heartland: The Ku Klux Klan’s Plot to Take Over America, and the Woman Who Stopped Them

(2023, Penguin Books, 2024), 404 pages including index and notes on sources.

A Personal note: In late 2010, I was visiting with Earl, a parishioner of First Presbyterian Church of Hastings (Michigan), who was dying. Earl was 96 years old and had lived in Hastings since 1950. Another friend of Earl’s, who was also in his 90s, was present. I no longer remember his name, but I remember that he had grown up in Hastings and was Catholic. The man talked about coming back into town with his father, from a trip to Grand Rapids. On a field outside of the town there was a large cross burning and a huge crowd of men in white robes. His father immediately ordered him to get on the floor of the car. Fright took over his father (and him). In the 1920s, the Klan was popular in the heartland, as Egan reminds us.

My review: Does character matter? Do we expect our leaders to adhere to moral standards? These are questions we should ask ourselves. After all, in the past decade, we’ve had the “me too” movement, which lead to many resignations of politicians, preachers, educators, and others in positions of leadership. Then, in a backlash, none of it seem to matter as we elect to office those convicted of sexual offenses. The appointment of others despite moral failures including sex and drug abuse and alcoholism occur. In a way, reading Egan’s book about a situation in the 1920s, makes me wonder what has changed. If anything, this book just makes another case proving human depravity.

In the early 1920s, D. C. Stephenson arrived in Indiana. Within two years, he would become the Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan of the state. By the mid-20s, Indiana had the most Klan members (by percentage of population) of all the states. The Klan was no longer strictly a southern institution. Many municipalities even in the heartland already had “sundown laws,” which barred African Americans after the sunset. The Klan was also strong in Colorado and Oregon.

The growth of the Klan in the 1920s was racist, just like the Southern Klan during Reconstruction. But they had broadened their racial views to include immigrants from Eastern Europe, especially Catholics and Jews. In the West, they added Asians to those they saw as a threat to American values. Notre Dame University became a big target in Indiana. Egan suggests that their mascot, “The Fighting Irish” came not from their undefeated football team, but the students battling the Klan who held a rally in South Bend.

In addition to racial hatred, the Klan of the 1920s encouraged the purity of white women and supported prohibition. While the Klan was men-only, there were significant numbers of auxiliary groups for women and children.

In Indiana, the Klan held power. They donated to both political parties and to churches with whom they sought to ally in their vision of an idolized America. They owned the governor and legislatures and local officials. People assumed Stephenson would eventually fil an empty Senate seat. The Klan was thinking big, including having eyes on the Presidency.

But for the Klan leadership in Indiana, especially for Stephenson, the rules didn’t apply. He was a masochist and felt women were his for the taking. He used intimidation to silence women he abused. Also, with his close supporters, he not only drank, but drank to excess.

When Stephenson set his eyes on Madge Oberholzer, an attractive young woman who’d asked for his help for her job with the state, things swirled out of control. She resisted his advances. He kidnapped her. When she made it back home, she was dying. He had not only brutally beaten her but had also severely bitten her all over her body. When she couldn’t escape, she attempted suicide.

As she lay dying from her abuse, she dictated a statement which was notarized as her testament, a legal maneuver which allowed her to “speak from the grave,” into a court of law. His friend, the sheriff, arrested Stephenson. But instead of eating jailhouse food, the sheriffs wife cooked his food.

Stephenson and two associates went to trial. The trial began after a lot of legal maneuvering over what could and couldn’t be admissible as evidence. While the court didn’t allow several additional women to testified of their rapes by Stephenson, it also kept out of court Stephenson’s past included an abandoned wife and child. While Stephenson’s followers attempted to bride officials and jury, the jury returned a verdict of guilty of second-degree murder.

The trial brought to the public’s attention the hypocrisy of the Klan’s leadership. In the aftermath of the trial, the Klan in Indiana declined almost as fast as it had risen.

Americans should read this book. The use of “American enemies” to cause a groundswell against the “others” is nothing new. Thankfully, in the 1920s, folks like Madge Oberholzer and a few brave newspapers, ministers, academics, and politicians stood fast against the rising intolerance. It’s never fun to be the one who speaks out, but speaking out is important.

Hannah Anderson, All That’s Good: Recovering the Lost Art of Discernment

(Chicago: Moody Publishing, 2018), 215 pages including study questions for each chapter and source notes.

I became acquainted with Anderson’s work through the HopeWords Writer’s Conference in Bluefield, West Virginia, which I have attended three times. Anderson is a regular at the conference and one of the ones who works behind the scenes to put the conference on each year. (Soon, I hope, I’ll post a review of this year’s conference). I am also looking forward to hearing good things about her when she preaches for me this June (sadly, I’ll be out-of-state that Sunday).

This book is divided into three parts. The first part deals with what’s good and why we should seek it out. In part 2, Anderson approaches discernment using Paul’s exhortations at the end of Philippians. Drawing on verses 8 and 9, she works through the verses dealing with “whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely and commendable. In Part 3, she looks at the meaning of the good and how we’re to work through a community for the common good.

Anderson writing is a pleasure to read. She draws on her own memories to illustrate her points. I recommend this book to those interested in fostering a world where we celebrate the good, the beautiful, and the empathic. This is the second book I’ve read by Anderson. The first, Humble Roots, I reviewed in 2022.

Pat Conroy, The Great Santini

(1976, HarperAudio 2023), 18 hours and 4 minutes.

It’s 1960. Having just returned to America from a stint in the Mediterranean, Bull Meacham is given the command of his own Marine Corp Fighter Squadron in Ravenell, SC. He meets up with his family in Atlanta, where they had been staying with his wife (Lillian) family. They then make a long early morning drive across Georgia and South Carolina. That drive seems to take forever, but in it we get to experience characteristics of Bull and his family. None of his children want to move, especially Ben, who will be a senior in high school. They’ve all been through this drill of having to make friends again.

Ben quickly makes two friends. One is a Jewish boy whom he comes to his aid during a fight and the other is a stuttering young African American man who raises flowers, produce, and honey as well as collecting oysters and gigging flounder for a living. Sadly, Ben loses both friends. The Jewish boy’s family sends him for safety while another white boy kills the African American.

While this goes on, Ben finally beats his father in one-on-one basketball. Bull’s lost didn’t go over well. His father, the Great Santini, fears getting older. He also fears changes to his beloved Marine Corps, that they’re losing their toughness. A few characteristics of his father became grating by the end of the book. When he would enter the home, he’d shout, “Stand by for a fighter pilot.” He would call those he’s talking to, “Sports Fans.”

Ben finds his place in high school on the basketball team. He becomes the star, but his father comes to a game drunk and encourages Ben to take out a kid on the opposing team he’s guarding. Ben snaps and breaks the boys arm, which ends with him kicked off the team for the remaining of the season. When Ben turns 18, his father takes him to the officer’s club. Ben comes home drunk, like his father, ruining the planned family dinner that evening.

This book touches on many themes. Child and spouse abuse, father/son relationships, coming of age, race relationships, life in a small southern town in the early 1960s, and the Yankee/Southern conflict (Bull was from Chicago and Lillian from the South). The story is fictionalized, but Conroy draws on his famil experiencesy. I have heard his novel didn’t go over well in his family and I can see why. In real life, the Great Santini didn’t die as he does in the book (which I left out of the book as it would be a spoiler). Conroy later wrote a nonfiction book about his father titled The Death of Santini.

I enjoyed the story. The book is easy to follow. Conroy tells it in a chronological fashion. There are similar themes to the other Conroy books I’ve read (Prince of the Tides, The Water is Wide, and South of Broad). All these books center on the Low Country of South Carolina. Thoese (except for The Water is Wide) were published later in Conroy’s life and show a more mature writer. I have also seen the movie, which came out in 1979, but it’s been decades so I don’t remember enough to compare the book and the movie.

Two Commentaries on the Gospel of Mark

James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2002), 550 pages

Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel According to Saint Mark (1991, Hendrickson Publishers, 1997), 424 pages

For the past sixteen months I have been working my way through the gospel of Mark. I have preached 53 sermons from Mark. At the beginning, I read through one short commentary by Doug Hare, a former professor of mine. Then, I read through these two commentaries as I worked my way through the gospel, finishing both this past month.

Of the two commentaries on Mark, my favorite would be the one by James Edwards. I first became familiar with his writing with his excellent 2015 commentary on Luke. This commentary on Mark was published 14 years earlier. Both books are a part of the “Pilar New Testament Commentary” series. This author is very familiar with the early church and the role Mark’s gospel in the early church. I have previously reviewed his book From Christ to Christianity. My complaint is that the author didn’t do his own translation and seems to mostly depend on the New International Version of the Bible.

The commentary is easy to read and follow. I especially liked Edward’s use of “Mark’s sandwiches”, a literary technique in the second gospel in which two different themes merge into one passage. The first is mentioned, then Mark moves off on what seems to be a tangent as he writes about something else., Then he returns to the first subject. Soon, having been introduced to the concept, I found such constructions even before reading the commentary. By playing the two ideas off each other helps the reader of the gospel to grasp deeper thoughts.

I also appreciated how Edwards, when things needed more explanation, would insert an “Excursus” to better explain an idea.

The second commentary by Morna Hooker was republished as a part of Black’s New Testament Commentaries Series. In this series, the author was expected to provide her own translation, which she does while admitting that she started her work using the New English and Revised Standard Versions of scripture. Hooker is retired but taught at Cambridge (and the commentary does have an “English feel” to it).

Like Edwards commentary, Hooker’s work is easy to read and understand. Neither commentary gets so far into the weeds that one has difficulty following. With her own translation of the text, Hooker’s work is a welcomed addition to the more traditional types of commentaries.

In addition to these commentaries, I have also read all or parts of commentaries by Douglas R. A. Hare, Mark: Westminster Bible Companion (Louisville, KY: WJKP, 1996), William L. Lane, The Gospel of Mark (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 1974), Mary Ann Tolbert, Sowing the Gospel: Mark’s World in Literary-Historical Perspective (1989, Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996); Brian K. Blount, Go Preach! Mark’s Kingdom Message and the Black Church Today (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Press, 1998), and David Rhoads and Donald Michie, Mark as Story: An Introduction of the Narrative of a Gospel (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1982).