This is a short Christmas program for those at home. I tell the following story in the program followed by “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence”
I have told this story several times including in an article published in Nevada Magazine’s online edition.
1988 was the first time I was without family on Christmas. It was also my first white Christmas. And it was a holy Christmas. I had taken a year off from seminary to serve as a student pastor in Virginia City, Nevada, the old mining town made famous by the TV show, Bonanza.
The week leading up to Christmas had been hectic. To top it off, a zephyr blew in two days before Christmas. I watched the clouds rolled angrily across the Sierras. Soon snow flew. The gale force wind made the frigid air feel even colder. I wore heavy sweaters even inside. By late morning of Christmas Eve, there was enough snow to ski on the streets of Virginia City. Having taken care of everything for the evening service, I joined a group of friends skiing down the old railroad grade to Gold Hill.
When we got back, we stopped by the church to shovel the snow off the steps. I turned up the heat inside. Snow drifted and the high winds made travel dangerous. About an hour before the service, word came that the steep roads into town from Carson City and Reno were closed. Now, my preparedness was for naught. Our “lessons and carols” service featured a number of readers, many of whom lived off the mountain and couldn’t make it in. Howard, our organist, assured me everything would work out. St. Mary’s of the Mountain, the Catholic Church in town, had already contacted him to play for their Midnight Mass as their organist wasn’t able to make it in.
It was a great service. Despite the cold and ice, people from town flocked in. We recruited readers. As the service began, the building creaked and groaned against the gale. At times, wind seeped into the building and caused the candles to flicker. Our worship service closed with candles challenging the dark as we sang “Silent Night.”
Afterwards, a group of us headed to the Mark Twain, one of the many saloons along C Street. We had good conversations while waiting for the midnight hour to head down to St Mary’s of the Mountain for Midnight Mass. We wanted to support Howard, who was playing the organ.
When I say, “we went down,” that’s just what we did as Virginia City sits on the eastern flank of Mt. Davidson and every block you travel you gain or lose significant elevation.
Sometime during the Mass, the raging storm blew itself out. When we stepped out of the church, clear skies greeted us. Crisp cold air billowed from my mouth like a locomotive. I zipped my coat tight, bid my friends a Merry Christmas and headed home, walking up the hill toward the lighted V, high on Mount Davidson. Snow squeaked under my feet due to the cold. The scent of pinion pine burning in woodstoves filled the air. A few cars were parked by one of the saloons on C Street. Otherwise, the street was deserted. When I reached B Street, where I lived, I was nearly out of breath.
I paused to survey the town. In a few houses, lights still burned. They stood as cheery refuges from the cold. But most were dark. Folks had settled in for a long winter’s nap. Then I looked up into the dark sky dotted with brilliant stars. Orion the hunter stood high overhead, followed to the southeast by his faithful dog. To the north, the Dipper was rising. Although alone, I felt a presence…
Things had worked out. Our worship serve was special and several of us were blessed with a second service at midnight. Even though my family were thousands of miles away, I was with good friends. And I felt God’s love, a love that had come into this world in a child.
The hymns and carols of the evening echoed in my head. “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence” seemed appropriate I had experienced something holy and silent awe was a fitting response.
This ancient hymn has its roots in the early church and is used as the beginning of the Communion rite in the Orthodox Churches. In English, we sing the words which recall God’s mystery to Picardy, an old French folk melody. The music is haunting, as it should be when we contemplate the incarnation, God coming to us in the flesh.
This Christmas, may we spend some time in awe, pondering the mystery of what happened so long ago. And while 2020 has appeared as a storm to us, we know that after the storm passes, there are good times. As followers of Jesus, we need to have faith.
May we also be aware that that child, born in Bethlehem, will come again and claim his throne. That’s where our ultimate hope lies. Until then, we hold on to hope and dedicate ourselves to him, our true Lord and our only Savior. Amen
JEFF GARRISON Bluemont and Mayberry Churches December 20, 2020 Psalm 46
A recording of the sermon made at Mayberry on Saturday, December 19
Thoughts at the beginning of worship
It’s the fourth Sunday of Advent. Christmas is almost here. Over the past three weeks, we have focused on hope, joy and love. I hope you have learned that these are not just emotions we feel, but actions that we take in response to a God who loves and comes to us.
Yet, we live in a troubled world. This isn’t anything new. There’s always trouble. Today, our focus is on peace. A Christian view of peace is counter cultural. The world thinks of peace as an absence of war. But what if we could have peace even in the midst of war? That’s what I want us to ponder today. How do we live a peaceful life in the chaos that surrounds us day in and day out?
After the reading of scripture:
I may be an outlier, but I have enjoyed much of 2020. Many of you, I’m sure, can’t wait for the year to be done. I hear people talking about starting anew as if there’s something special about midnight on the 31st. There’s not. It’s just another tick of the clock.
However, there’s much about 2020 I’d like to forget. My list includes the pandemic and quarantine, fires in Australia and the American West, the massive numbers of hurricanes, a shortened baseball season, and the closing down of the economy. But still, personally, the year hasn’t been bad for me. After all, I’m in the mountains, My heart sings.
2016 verses 2020
My bad year was 2016. It started earlier, on January 9th, with a slip on the foredeck of a sailboat. My left foot was pinned by some blocks. I fell backwards with the boat’s lifeline catching my leg just above my knee, so that it couldn’t bend. The strain on my pinned leg was great. Something had to give. My quad tendon snapped. It was the most painful thing I’ve experienced. My leg instantly became worthless. After surgery, my left leg remained in a brace. I couldn’t bend it for three months. Then I could bend it 30 degrees and slowly worked up from there. I spent much of that spring learning, once again, how to walk.
And then, in late summer, because of a high PSA reading, I had a prostrate biopsy. Those are not pleasant, but that wasn’t the end of it. A week later, I woke at 3 AM, thinking I had the worst flu ever. I had gone to bed feeling fine. I took ibuprofen and tried to get more sleep. At 7, I sent emails to cancel my meetings for the day. When the drugs ran out, I took my temperature—104. Calling my doctor, he said get to the emergency room, pronto. I called Donna. She took me to the hospital.
I had no idea how sick I was. At the front desk of the ER, they checked my temperature, blood pressure, breathing and heart rate. They had me on a gurney with an IV in my arm before Donna was able to park the car and find her way back inside. I spent the next couple of days in the hospital fighting sepsis, which probably came from the biopsy. Thankfully, the biopsy came back negative.
A few weeks after that, Hurricane Matthew raked the Georgia Coastline. It was estimated that Skidaway Island lost 20% of its trees. Our paradise island was a mess. A year later, they were still hauling away timber, brush, and wood chips.
But was 2016 a bad year?
Yet, with all that happened in 2016, I still have some good memories. And these memories are not just from the morphine they gave me for my leg. I never felt alone or so loved. Nor did I feel abandoned by God
So, while I won’t deny that 2020 has been bad, especially for the families of over 300,000 Americans and the million others around the world who died, for me personally, it doesn’t quite rise to 2016. And, looking back on things, as bad as 2016 was, it wasn’t terrible. For God remained with me, in the midst of my pain.
The 46th Psalm
The 46th Psalm is about confidence in a God who is present in the midst of a trouble-filled world. The Psalm is divided into three strophes or sections, each assuring us of God’s comfort while reminding us of the problems we face during our walk on this planet.
First strophe
The first section deals with natural disasters such as earthquakes and volcanoes, hurricanes and tornadoes.
Perhaps we’ve not experienced this personally, although there was an earthquake in this area earlier this year. However, parts of our world have experienced all these events in 2020. When faced with such calamities, we may feel abandoned and afraid. But in each situation, the Psalmist reminds us that we should not fear for God is present and in control.
Second Strophe
The calamity in the second section is not a natural disaster, but one of a human making. Now, war threatens; the hatred of people drives them to ruthlessly attack each other. Kind of sounds like this past election.
Despite the fact that war is on-going, God’s holy city stands unharmed. Even in the middle of the chaos, God’s city stands untouched. God is sovereign. What can we do, as humans, to challenge God’s sovereignty? God’s city stands as an example of the way it should be.
Third strophe
And finally, in the third section, we are reminded of God’s judgment. God has the power to bring wars to an end. However, judgement brings destruction; God puts an end to our ability to wage war. God’s holiness demands judgment.
Visions of noise and chaos and war often demonstrate God’s presence. But here, we find that although God is present, that’s not where we encounter God.
Elijah’s similar encounter
Elijah had a similar experience with God on Horeb. There was a great wind, and God wasn’t in it. There was an earthquake, but God wasn’t in it. And then a fire, but that was not where he encountered God. Instead, after these events, Elijah experiences God in sheer silence. Elijah encounters God in a way that’s a similar to the promise made in the Psalm. Be still and know God.[1]
Be still, let the turmoil of life spin around you, and know that God is there with you.
What does this mean?
There was a point in my life where I thought this Psalm told me to go to where I could experience stillness and quietness. What a convenient interpretation. I could use it as rational for a backpacking or canoe trip. I still believe that getting away from the turmoil of life can be a spiritual experience, but I no longer believe this Psalm is telling us that we should go hide.
Another way to interpret the Psalm
Instead, I have another idea what this Psalm means. God sits me down in a chair. All around me things spin out of control. There are things I need to do. In the similar fashion, God lets the Psalmist experience the turmoil of life before revealing himself.
With all this chaos spinning around me, my first through is, “what can I do to fix it.” Isn’t that a human response? I want to do something. But in this chair, God’s hands remain on my shoulders gently encouraging me to stay seated. Then I hear a whisper, “sit still.” The voice is soft and soothing. Such a simple message with a profound implication.
It’s as if God says, “I’ve got this, let me take this burden from your shoulders.” Even in the midst of all kinds of troubles, we can find peace in our lives and we can know God.
The theme that’s echoed three times in this Psalm is that God is our refuge, our place where we can find solace.[2]
Psalm 46 and the Coming of Christ
This Psalm reassures us that even in the chaos, God’s present. God stands by us to comfort. God is in the middle of pain. God comes to us; God doesn’t wait till all is calm and peaceful.
I wonder if we get a wrong picture of what happened in Bethlehem from our depiction of the nativity. We see the idyllic pastoral view of cows sleeping while shepherds converse around a campfire. And then, later in the night, some wise–dudes dress in fancy clothes rides in on a camel with gifts. Such a peaceful night, but was it?
Scripture tells another story. Herod and his court burn the midnight oil in Jerusalem, worried that their rule will end. They grasp at straws to see how they can maintain control. Out of fear, they commit a terrible atrocity. And above Herod, we have Caesar and his legions. Roman soldiers keep an iron hand on far-flung parts of the empire like Palestine.
The world into which Jesus was born
We learn in Luke’s gospel that a decree from Caesar forced Joseph and the pregnant Mary to make a trip to Bethlehem. It was no skin off Caesar’s back, but mighty inconvenient for the Holy Family.
So, the world wasn’t necessarily peaceful on the day of Jesus’ birth. It was a world like ours, troubled. And everyday citizens like Mary and Joseph, along with the parents of young children in and around Bethlehem, were caught up in the powerplays of those with authority.
It’s into this kind of world that our Savior was born—a troubled world longing for peace. It’s also into such hearts that Jesus comes… If we’re not sick, Jesus suggests, we don’t need a doctor. But if we realize our human frailties, we’ll run to a physician.[3]
The Psalm in 2020
Be still and know that I am God is a message we need to hear in 2020. When we think we can overcome all our problems, we develop a false sense of pride. We feel we can take care of ourselves; a feeling in which we risk making ourselves into a little god. But when we realize that we are truly not in control, we must turn to God and only then can we discover peace. War may be all around us, but we can be at peace because we are assured that God is with us and, in the end, we’ll be with God.
That’s why God tells us to be still. In the midst of our troubles, we need to trust the God of creation, the God of redemption, and the God of our future. When we trust such a God, we can have peace.
In a year like 2020, listen to that voice from God telling us to slow down, to be still, and to know that God who set the stars in the sky, who divided the land and water and separated night from day, the God of the cosmos, is also our refuge and strength. Amen.
Resources and Notes:
May, James L. Psalms: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994.
Weiser, Artur. The Psalms: A Commentary, Herbert Hartwell, translator. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1962.
[1] 1 Kings 19:11-18. Interesting in other ways and in other parts of the Old Testament, we find God revealing himself in these other experiences of Isaiah. In Genesis 1, God’s spirit is a wind over the chaos. The word for wind and breath in Hebrew is the root of the word “Spirit.” God also made himself known to Moses with the burning (but not consumed) bush.
[2] God as refuge appears in the 1st, 7th and 11th verses.
On Sunday, December 13, the Presbytery of the Peaks installed me as pastor. Normally, such worship services are filled with clergy from local churches, local politicians are invited, and there’s a big reception afterwards. Not this year. Not with COVID. First of all, we had to do it where we could maintain social distance. Neither church is large enough to have more than 40 people or so safely in worship. We were blessed when Meadows of Dan Baptist Church allowed us to hold the service in their sanctuary.
The Presbytery Commission with me (I’m second to the right)
The service is led by a commission that includes Ruling Elders and Teaching Elders (ministers) from area churches. The Commission included Ruling Elders Rick Rudolph and Mike Nyquist of Mayberry, Ruling Elder Libby Wilcox of Bluemont, Ruling Elder Sue Bentley of Northside Church in Blacksburg, the Reverend Bob McL. of the Presbyterian Church of Floyd, the Reverend Sara Jane Bush Nixon of New Dublin Presbyterian Church, and the Reverend Steve Willis, Vice Moderator of the Presbytery. While there was no singing due to COVID, instrumental music was provided by Joey Webster and Lil. Puckett.
The YouTube Link is to the entire service is below. Under that are the text of Sara Jane’s sermon on Exodus 3:1-11 and Matthew 16:13-18, the charge to me given by Bob, and the charge to the congregation by Libby.
Sermon by the Rev. Sara Jane Nixon
A long, long time ago, God’s people were in slavery. A long time ago, they were being threatened with extinction, literally, with the killing of their children and the death of their adults through long, hard labor. But before that, before their slavery, before they were a nation, before the foundation of the world, before anything that ever was or is or will be was made, God had laid the plan for their redemption. Long before time began, God planned for Moses. And through immense dangers, through genocide, through murder, through exile, God preserved him and kept him. And when the time was right, God got his attention through a burning bush. And he said to him, “Go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people out of Egypt.”
But despite all that effort, despite the plan that had been in place since eternity, despite the fact that we tell this story about Moses so many thousands of years later, it’s remarkable how little of this passage is actually about Moses. It’s the Lord who has seen the misery of his people in Egypt, the Lord who has come to rescue them, the Lord who has come to bring them into a good and spacious land, the Lord who has heard, the Lord who has seen, the Lord who sends. And when Moses asks why him, the Lord has nothing to say about Moses as a person. Nothing about how excellent his moral character is, nothing about his leadership qualities, his extroversion, his teaching abilities. None of that seems to matter. All God has to say on the subject is “I will be with you.” It’s not about Moses. It’s about God.
And when Moses still has hesitations, still has doubts, God’s reassurance still doesn’t have anything to do with him. “But God, what if they ask me who sent me? What if they ask me, who is the God of our fathers?” God gives a cryptic answer at first: “Tell them ‘I AM’ is my name.” But then he explains further: He’s the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God the ancestors knew. He hasn’t forgotten, he’s still the same.
Gallons of ink have been spilled over what it might mean for God to say that his name is “I AM.” But it at least seems to imply God’s active presence, active commitment to being the same God at all times and in all places. The God of the fathers – Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob – is I AM. The God of Moses and the Exodus is I AM. The God of the future is I AM. “This is my name forever,” says God, “the name you shall call me from generation to generation.” It’s a promise. Who am I? Says God. You’re gonna find out. You’ll find out by my faithfulness, my unfailing love, from generation to generation to generation forever. Whatever else changes, my faithfulness, my commitment, my love for my people will not. That’s how you’ll know me. From generation to generation. Forever.
And they did. We did. Most of all through the birth and life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God and Son of God, firstborn of all creation, the Word from before the beginning who was made flesh and walked among us, full of grace and truth. But that self-revelation of God in Jesus is not always clear – not at all times, not for all people. It wasn’t even necessarily clear for the people who knew Jesus the best. It’s a secret – a mystery, in the biblical sense of the world. A biblical mystery isn’t like playing Clue, where you’ve got to figure out who killed the butler in the library with a candlestick. It’s something you need to have revealed to you by someone else. It’s a secret you can’t know unless you’re told.
And so when Peter comes out with his true and history-changing recognition that Jesus is the Christ, the true king of Israel, the Lord and God of the universe, who has come to rescue his people like a new and second and final Moses, Jesus praises him. Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! But he still doesn’t get the credit.
He doesn’t know it by himself. It’s God who has revealed it to him, God who has made it known, God who has revealed the mystery of Jesus’s identity to him.
And in recognition of the moment, Jesus changes Peter’s name. He makes a pun on the Greek words, “Petra,” rock, and “Petros,” Peter. Don’t ever let anyone tell you Jesus isn’t funny. “You are Petros, Peter, and on this Petra, rock, I will build my church.”
“Hey Rocky, I’m gonna build my church on this rock.” But the emphasis here still doesn’t fall on Peter. It’s not about what a great leader Peter is going to be. It’s not about how perfect he is – because spoiler alert, he absolutely was not. Peter becomes the Rock on which Jesus built and is building his church not because of who he was, but because of who Jesus is.
Because Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, and because God revealed that to Peter and enabled him to make that profession, Peter is the Rock. And if God has revealed it to you, and enabled you to make that profession, you’re a rock too, a rock that God is using to build his kingdom. And God makes a promise, too. He promises that he’s not building in vain. Even if the gates of death and hell try to overrun that kingdom – and they will – they won’t succeed. The God who promised to be there from generation to generation promises that nothing will stand in the way of bringing his kingdom to earth, making it, as we say, on earth as it is in heaven.
Up till now, he’s kept that promise. He’s kept it through plagues and wars, through seismic shifts in the fabric of society, through more assualts of Hell’s gates than even the history books can keep up with. Despite all the odds, despite our enemies and more often than not our own stupidity, here we are. Despite these last nine months, here we are. Nothing is the same as it was. We could not have imagined our present last year, and next year is even more uncertain than usual. Here we are in an uncertain present, struggling into an unknown future.But even here – especially here – God delights to show us his faithfulness. He delights to open a new chapter and a new promise in your life, Jeff, and in your lives, Mayberry and Bluemont, in your new life together. The gates of Hades, the gates of Death, they’re raging. But from generation to generation, God shows himself to be the God who is with us here, wherever “here” is. And here in the Rock churches – made up of physical rocks, yes, but also the spiritual Rocks of those who make the proclamation that Jesus is the Christ, a new thing is happening. A pastor and two churches are coming together to live out that profession and the promises that follow it in a particular time – 2020 – in a particular community. You’re here as a pledge and a witness that even here, even now, God is building his kingdom.
And of course, you’ve all got dreams, hopes, aspirations, expectations for your time together. Some of them are reasonable and right and achievable, some of them, undoubtedly, will turn out to be fantasy. Jeff isn’t going to manage to be a perfect pastor.
Bluefield and Mayberry aren’t going to quite manage to be perfect congregations.
But that won’t matter. Because just like Moses wasn’t really the point, just like Peter wasn’t really the point, y’all aren’t really the point either. The God who promised Moses that he would be I AM to his people from generation to generation, forever, has promised his presence to you as well. The God who promised Peter that the gates of death would not prevail against his church keeps his word to this day. Today, we’re celebrating a new beginning, a new chapter. But it’s a new chapter in an old, old story – the story of God’s faithfulness, his love, and his determination that we all will dwell with him in peace. And in his grace and his mercy, he’s chosen to work that out in you and in your community through your and Jeff’s ministry together, through the confession that Jesus is the Christ, through the small and everyday ways you’re building up rocks for the kingdom. It’s not going to be perfect, but it doesn’t have to be. God will be perfect for you, and from generation to generation, though all the gates of hell oppose him, he will not fail.
So to the God of all grace, who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish far more abundantly than all we could ask or think, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus, now and forever. Amen.
Charge to the PastorbyRev. Robert G. McLavey
Jeff, it is a joy and a privilege to welcome you to the neighborhood. I came to Floyd—just down the parkway—a little over five years ago. I, too, came from a large city—Denver, Colorado. But it did not take long for me to feel at home in the beautiful surroundings of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The people here are wonderful, and the history is rich. There is a faithfulness in the people, where you know that God has been at work for a long time, using some real pioneers who either grew up here or came here when the area was a pretty tough place. But God’s grace is strong, indeed, and we are the beneficiaries of those who have come before us to preach the good news of Jesus Christ. And that has been true throughout the history of Christ’s church.
In the Apostle Paul’s letters to Timothy, Paul passes on to his spiritual heir the wisdom accumulated through a life of mission, ministry, and suffering for the gospel. In 1 Timothy, chapter 6, Paul says, “But you, man of God,…pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses.” In the first chapter of 2 Timothy, Paul says, “What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus. Guard the good deposit that was entrusted to you—guard it with the help of the Holy Spirit who lives in us.” And, finally, in the fourth chapter Paul says, “In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I give you this charge: Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction.”
Jeff, let me suggest that in this day and age, being a minister of Word and Sacrament is not enough to ensure that Jesus is held up in honor and glory. Yes, preaching the Word and rightly administering the Sacraments are essential parts of our calling, but we also must be living examples of truth. We must speak with love and authority. We must call out false teachers who speak with hatred and hypocrisy in the name of Jesus.
And to do all of this, Jeff, you must take care of yourself. You need to be fed spiritually, you need to be diligent in getting rest and inspiration, be sure to spend quality time with your wife and family, and you must be certain to take time to be in solitude with God. As you are surrounded by these beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains, realize that God’s creation is yet another example of his majesty and another testament to his sovereignty.
Jeff, by accepting a call to these congregations in this community, a great treasure is committed to your care. The people you serve are the flock of Christ for whom he gave his life. Therefore, I charge you to never stop loving Jesus the Shepherd, and never cease caring for his sheep. Labor faithfully on their behalf and do everything in your power to bring all those entrusted to your care to mature faith and the knowledge of God. Seek to be one with Christ in all you say and do.
Let me leave you with this delightful thought. All of us who have studied in seminaries and have prepared for ministry by pouring over books of great theologians have encountered the writings of Karl Barth, the renowned professor at the University of Basel in Switzerland. He was the most prolific theologian of the twentieth century, and his theology was as complex as it was profound. But when Barth visited the University of Chicago on a visit to the United States, and as students and scholars crowded around him at a press conference, someone asked, “Dr. Barth, what is the most profound truth you have learned in your studies?” Without hesitation, he replied, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”
Jeff, may that be your greatest truth, as well. Share it with your congregations and the world!
To the glory of God. Amen.
Charge to the Congregations by Ruling Elder Libby Wilcox
Friends in Christ,
There are few words that can express my excitement for this celebration of installation. As chairman of the PNC, my committee has worked for the past year to find just the right pastor for our churches. With God’s guidance, we have done just that. Today, I come before you as an Elder, with the charge for both congregations. This day is full of hope for the future. We have discerned in Jeffery Garrison the gifts of preaching and teaching and have called him to serve among and with us. In the Congregational tradition, it is the body of Christ – all of us together – that blesses this installation to ministry. No bishop examines or consecrates this time. It is the spirit of God, through the witnessing congregation that declares the joyful discernment and call of Jeff Garrison as our minister. Your presence here today is a vital expression of our faith.
But after this sacred celebration ends, then what? This day is not just about Jeff, it is about all of us and how we will partner with Jeff to do God’s work.
No successful, transformative, healthy ministry is ever a one-person show. If church and pastor are to form a partnership that is strong and enduring, we must honor each other as Christ has already honored us. We are all in this together. Given this, I charge you as God’s gathered people at Mayberry and Bluemont Presbyterian Churches, with these things.
First, as our years with Jeff unfold, expect to change. That is because the Spirit still broods over us, Christ still walks among us and God still calls us. As our relationship unfolds, time will continue to work changes because all authentic ministry changes us. Expect to be comforted by this as our minister establishes bonds of affection with us, but also challenged and confronted as well.
Second, remember that we are all called together as the body of Christ for God’s great purposes. Jeff is not a proxy for our work. God doesn’t need another fan club. God needs workers in the vineyard. Paul reminds us in Ephesians, there is one body and one Spirit and each of us was given Christian gifts…..some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teacher, not for personal glorification but so the saints would be equipped for the work of ministry for the building up of the body of Christ. (Eph. 4) This world, yea, this part of the world needs to know God’s love and grace through each of us. This is a partnership of people and pastor on behalf of a mighty and merciful God. We are embarking on holy work.
Third, honor Jeff’s ministry. While this is a partnership, there is also a peculiar setting apart that happens when we grant a minister the privilege of our pulpit and he commits to this ministry before a trusting, yearning congregation. Ministry can be lonely and often there is little to go on to know if you are making a difference. A pastor is more likely to hear the vocal complainers than the quiet supporters, and is under enormous pressure to wade into conflict with wisdom beyond human capability when it gets personal. So honor Jeff’s ministry. Pray for him. Contact him – notes, texts, phone calls, emails, however – contact him with words of encouragement. Thank him for being a preacher, pastor and prophet in our midst. And honor him by challenging him, asking for clarification, sharing your viewpoint. Be full, and real and honest in your support.
The apostle Paul frequently began his letters with wonderful words of thanksgiving, as here in his letter to the Philippians: “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now.” Paul goes on to say, “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God’s grace with me…”.
Indeed, today affirms once again that all of us are in God’s grace and are partners in the sharing of the gospel. With joy, thanksgiving and prayer, God’s good work will be manifest among us, if we give thanks for each other, honor each other, and remember that God has called us to this time and place for a reason. May you perceive this with the excitement and hope that only the Spirit can give and may our years together be marked with great faithfulness. May God Bless all of us !
Jeff Garrison Bluemont and Mayberry Churches Genesis 33:1-11 December 13, 2020
The sermon recored on Friday. It’s not exactly the same as the text below, but pretty close.
Thoughts at the beginning of the service:
As we’ve done for the past few weeks, we’re looking this morning at a unique passage of Scripture for Advent. Why not, we’re coming up on a weird Christmas with the precautions we have to take to slow the spread of COVID.
Our scripture passage is about Jacob, one of the patriarchs of the Hebrew tradition. You know him. A cheater, who found himself cheated. He deceived Esau, his brother, out of his inheritance by offering a hungry boy a bowl of soup. And if that wasn’t enough, he took advantage of his father’s failing eyes to obtain his brother’s blessings. This creates a rift between him and his brother. He flees for his life.
While wandering, he fell in love with Rachel and agreed to give her father seven years of work for her hand in marriage. But his father-in-law tricked him into first marrying her sister, Leah. So, Jacob worked seven more years for the woman he loved. Then he had two wives, each jealous of the other. Jacob’s is not be the first dysfunctional family in Scripture, but his is one of the more extreme.[1]
Jacob had battled with a mysterious being. Was his adversary God?[2] He shows the scars of battle as he limps along. But God blesses him. His family will carry on the promise first given to Abraham.
Jacob returns to his homeland which means he must confront his brother, Esau. Jacob, the fair skinned momma boy, must meet his macho brother. They’ve not seen each other in two decades.
A message of love
While Jacob is the main character in our story, I hope you will consider this passage from the eyes of Esau. Esau shows us how to be gracious. He displays love. The jilted brother quickly forgives his conniving sibling. Esau could have had Jacob’s head on a platter, but instead, he buries the ax.
Esau’s love is similar to the love God shows the human race. Our Heavenly Father could have been done with human sinfulness and wiped us off the map. Instead, God shows amazing love by coming to us as an infant. As we prepare to once again celebrate Jesus’ birth, we need to remember we’re called to love and to let go of grudges.
After the reading of Scripture
I’ve heard that procrastination is a sign of creativity. I’m not sure it’s true, but I hope so. I’d want to use it as an excuse for waiting till the last possible moment to buy Christmas presents.
Jacob, in our story, had put off meeting his brother as long as he could. One of the things we’ll see exploring this text is that there are things we shouldn’t put off for too long.
The danger of putting things off:
When there’s something I don’t want to do, I put it off… I fret over it… Especially when an apologize is called for. Don’t you hate doing that? Apologizing? If you’re like me, you struggle to do it. After a while, what could have been easily corrected with a hand-written note or a phone call becomes a huge task.
Or maybe because I felt slighted, I didn’t want to take the first step. There’s an important lesson here. We can’t control others; we can only control ourselves.
It seems important for Jacob to make an effort at reconciliation with his brother even though he’s not sure how it was going to turn out. He can only control what he does, not how his brother responds.
I wonder if the years he was away, he’d fretted over making such an effort. In doing so, he creates a monster out of the task at hand. The more Jacob thinks about it, the more he worries that his hairy masculine brother will wring his neck.
On the night before he encounters Esau, Jacob’s hip is pulled out of joint in a wrestling match. Now, the big day arrives. Limping, there’s no way he can outrun Esau. He’s stuck. He’ll meet his brother and face the consequences.
We all change:
Another thing I have notice about myself is that although I realize I’ve changed, I have a hard time imaging how other person has changed. This is especially true of someone from my past. I remember them as they were when I last saw them. If we really think about it, they, too, have changed.
Have you ever been to a class reunion? You look around and wonder who are all these old people? I do, not realizing they’re probably thinking a similar thing about me.
I also have experienced this phenomenon on Facebook. An old friend sends a friendship request. I look at their profile picture, thinking it must be from my friend’s parents. We all change.
Is this part of Jacob problem? Does he still see Esau as the young man he’d wrong and assumes that Esau had spent the past two decades letting his anger boil? After all, Jacob has spent time fretting over what might happen when they meet again.
The Meeting:
Seeing Esau approach makes Jacob nervous. He lines up his family, starting with the servants their children.[3] Then he places Leah and her children next. And at the end he places his beloved Rachel and her son, Joseph.
Although we are not told the reason, it appears Jacob hopes that if his brother is out for blood, his vengeance will be appeased on the first group of his family.
He’s saved his favorite for the last. Maybe he thinks Rachel and Joseph will have a chance to get away. We’re not told how the mothers of his children felt about this alignment, but I am sure such favoritism didn’t bring harmony to his dysfunctional family.
To Jacob’s credit, he goes first. He’s in front, limping along, with his extended family in tow. If there is going to be blood, he might as well offer his own. After all, he’s facing demons of his own making. We’re told that Jacob bows seven times as his brother approaches—the type of homage worthy of a Pharaoh.[4] Besides that, Jacob had already culled his flocks and sent the best animals ahead as a gift to Esau. Now he shows his submissiveness.
Jacob has no idea how his brother will respond. Will Esau extract revenge?
The graciousness of Esau:
Instead of vengeance, Esau is joyous! Much like the father in the Prodigal Son, Esau runs out ahead and embraces his brother. The two hug and cry together.
Then Esau comments on his brother’s family and delights in meeting his sisters-in-law and nieces and nephews. Jacob rightly gives God the credit for his family. Esau then insists that no gifts are necessary even though when Jacob presses, he accepts the gifts graciously. As Jacob says, he has all that he needs. But it appears that so does Esau. Both men have been successful. Jacob has herds and a large family; Esau has a small army.
Encountering God through love:
Then, in verses 10, Jacob expresses his joy, saying that looking at Esau’s face is like looking into the face of God. Jacob knows what he’s talking about for he has encountered God a few times by this point. And remember, Jesus tells us in a parable that we too will encounter him in the face of others.[5] Maybe a part of this has to do with Esau’s willingness to let the past be gone and to make the reconciliation as easy as possible. That’s a godly act.
After a reunion, they go separate ways, partly out of necessity. With the herds and animals, Jacob’s crowd is much slower than Esau’s. What’s important is that the two brothers have been reunited and Jacob is back in the land of his father.
Implications for our Christian life:
A lot of times we are like Jacob, afraid of taking steps toward reconciliation. We worry and agonize over it. Like Jacob, we may even go to great lengths to pave the way, such as offering gifts. But when we finally get around to it, many times we find that it wasn’t nearly as big of a deal as we had made it out to be. Sometimes, like with Esau, the person we worry about has moved on with their lives. Other times, they’ve softened, or erased their bitterness.
Jesus teaches, as his followers, we need to be the person who takes steps toward reconciliation. That’s what being a Christian is about. However, it’s not often how other people see the church. They see us as being hateful toward things we’re against. We have work to do to show the world what being a Christian is all about.
The Christmas message in the passage:
I mentioned how Esau acts like the father in the familiar story of the Prodigal Son.[6] Remember, the father in the parable represents God. The younger son has done terrible things. The father was justified if he treated his son as dead.
Like Esau with Jacob, the prodigal’s old man doesn’t wait for him to arrive. Instead, he runs down the road to meet his wayward son.
Think about God running after us. Isn’t this what God does in the Christmas story. By coming as an innocent child born in a stable, God takes the risk to reach out to the human race.
Out of love, God takes the first steps toward us. Do we, like Jacob, continue to limp toward God, or do we try to run? Hopefully, because God comes as a child, we’re not threatened. We can embrace such love. And when we do experience such love, we’re to share it.
In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus teaches us to pray, “forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors,” or as a more modern translation would have it, “forgive us our sins as we forgive the sins of others.[7] And Jesus tells us to make things right with our brother (or sister) before we come to make a sacrifice to God.[8] Our willingness to forgive the wrong done by others is linked to God’s forgiveness. But, as we see in our story of Jacob and Esau, it’s hard to take the first step and seek reconciliation.
We’re told this story from the point of view of Jacob. We don’t know what had gone on in Esau’s life. But it’s evident he’s glad to see his brother.
What are we to do?
If there are those whom we’ve wronged, like Jacob, we need to take a risk on forgiveness. We need to be the ones to strive for a new relationship. And if someone comes to us seeking reconciliation, we should show the graciousness of Esau. Love is not just a feeling. It’s an act that works for the well-being of the one loved.
Loving one another is what Christmas is about. God came to this world as a bundle of love. When we accept the gift, our lives are changed, and we share that love with others. Amen.
[1] With Cain killing Abel, that distinction would go to the first family in Scripture. And Noah’s family actions after the flood also dysfunctional tendencies.
Last week I spent a few days with my father and uncle (and my uncle’s brother-in-law) fishing off Cape Lookout.
The end of a day
We leave the jetty off the southwest side of Lookout a little after four. To the west, the sun is dropping close to the horizon.
I’m at the helm of my dad’s boat, following Dale and Larry. We race across calm waters, parallel to the beach on the south end of Lookout, heading toward Shackleford Banks. The day before, this section was so rough, we turned around and sought safety behind the banks. As we pass into the Lookout Bight, we make a hard right into Barden’s Inlet. Quickly passing the split of land at the end of Lookout, we’re soon running along the backside of the island. We’re now heading parallel to our previous heading, but in the direction, with just a split of land separating us from where we were.
The channel cuts a path resembling a giant question mark, as we maneuver between Lookout and Shackleford Banks.
We pass a lovely two mask schooner that has taken shelter behind the banks. The still water is only marred by the wake of our boats.
After passing the Old Coast Guard and Life Saving stations, we cut back toward the Lookout Lighthouse, which not only rises up into the sky but whose reflection follows us as we snake back north, keeping the red buoys on our right. Once we pass the lighthouse, the channel straightens as we head toward the east end of Harker’s Island. The sandbars have shifted and there are places we ignore the buoys. In one place, a sandbar has completely covered the old channel and we take a green buoy to the right. If we’d stayed in the marked channel, we’d been grounded.
We take the northern channel at the split and curve around the west end of Harkers Island. The sun has now set behind us. As we make the turn into Eastmouth Bay, the pink sky reflects off the calm waters. As we approach the channel into our dock, I push the throttle up to slow the boat down as I raise the motor enough to make it over the sand bar at the mouth of the dredged cut. We putt into the dock. It’s been a good day. Now there are fish to clean.
The cooler contains Day and my fish. Larry and Dale’s are in the bucket.
Heading out early in the morning
We’d left that morning around 7 AM and watched the sun rise as we were running around Harker’s Island.
The temperature was below freezing, as evident by the ice on the docks. But unlike the day before, when the gales of earlier in the week had calmed to a stiff breeze of 20 miles an hour, this morning was calm. We didn’t feel the cold nearly as much as the previous day. We arrived at the rock jetty off Lookout, set anchor, and began to fish. A dozen or so boats were already anchored and had lines in the water by the time we arrived. As the day continued, even more would arrive.
sunrise
at the helm
The fishing wasn’t great the first few hours. I seemed to lose jigs to the rocks, while just on the other side of the rocks, a dude with an orange coat, sitting on a swivel seat on the bow of his boat, caught fish after fish. Most were thrown back, but he kept a few. I pondered why they liked his grub and not mine. But then I got a bite. The light rod bent over and began to work the fish, but before we could get it to the net, he got off. Fifteen minutes later, my dad caught a speckled trout. There was one in the cooler.
We were just about to head to the other side of the jetty, when Dad caught another while I lost another. So, we stayed and kept fishing. Larry and Dale had moved their boat to the other side and texted us to let us know a wildlife officer was over there checking fish and license. We assured him we only had “legal” fish. The officer only checked a half dozen boats, and then left, but he’d written a lot of tickets for fishing without licenses or having kept more fish than allowed.
Finally, I did land a speckled trout that was just barely large enough to keep (speckled must be 14 inches long). As the tide dropped, exposing the rocks and the shoreline approached out anchorage, we watched another guy fishing from the surf, on our side of the jetty catch fish after fish. I began to wonder what was wrong with our technique.
Catching fish
that’s me
my Dad
Then it happened. Dad caught a puppy drum. It was a good fight. I pulled my line in and helped him out the net. While dad was putting the fish away and putting a new grub on his jig, I got a bite. It was another puppy drum. This one also took several minutes to get it into the boat. I’d get the fish almost to the boat and it would begin running, pulling line off the reel. As the line was only 8-pound test, you have to keep your drag fairly loose to keep the line from snapping. Dad waited until the fish tired and I got it to the boat, where he could help net it. It was another puppy drum, about 21 inches long. It went into the cooler, too.
The limit of drum is one a piece, but for the next hour, we kept catching and releasing them. The fish ranged from 20 to 26 inches and they all gave a great fight. I’m not sure how many we caught, but each of us caught seven or eight fish. All the fish fought hard and took several minutes to get into the boat.
boats around the jetty which can only be partially seenby where the rocks are above water
As the noon hour approached, we were both getting hungry. We finally took a break to have lunch (beans and weenies and crackers), even though the fish were still biting. Several other boats along with the guys on shore got into catching drum, so after lunch we moved to the other side of the jetty. We anchored next to Larry and Dale and began fishing. Pretty soon, we both caught a gray trout (we could only keep one, but we only caught one apiece). Then we caught a few more speckled trout. It seemed as if for every trout I got into the boat, I would lose one jig to the rocks. About half of the trout, we had to throw back as they were not of legal size. I also caught a bluefish.
While we fished the jetty, out in deeper water shrimp thrawlers worked back and forth. You could hear the drone of their diesels and when pulled in their nets to cull their catch, the sound of gulls squawking overwhelmed the sounds of the waves breaking on the rock.
As the trawler culls their catch, the gulls fight for that which is thrown back
As the afternoon wore on, more. and more boats left for home. There were only a half dozen of so left when we decided to call it a day.
Jeff Garrison Bluemont and Mayberry Churches December 6, 2020 Acts 8:26-39
Introduction at the beginning of Worship
One of our secular songs of the season is Jolly Old Saint Nicholas. The lyrics come from a poem, “Lilly’s Secret”, published in December 1865. At that time, just after the Civil War, the United States needed a little Christmas cheer. In the poem and song, a girl teases Santa with this request:
Jolly old Saint Nicholas lean your ear this way; don’t you tell a single soul what I’m going to say, Christmas Eve is coming soon; now you dear old man, whisper what you’ll bring to me; tell me if you can.
She tells St. Nick what her siblings want for Christmas. A pair of skates for Johnny, a doll for Suzy, and a storybook for Nellie (she thinks dolls are folly).
But her whispering in Santa’s ear displays wisdom grounded in humility, as the poem and song ends:
As for me, my little brain isn’t very bright; choose for me, dear Santa Claus, what you think is right.[1]
This song displays two pieces of wisdom. First of all, Santa is jolly. What causes this joy in the man in red? I suggest it comes from his giving.
Joy is our theme for today. While we should never confuse Santa with God, we know the Almighty also takes great joy in giving. Second, when it comes to God, like Lilly with Saint Nicholas, we should receive his gifts with gratitude rather than demand what we want. We’re like Lilly in that we don’t know what we need.
Today’s theme
Who would have thought we’d need a Savior born in a stable and crucified on a cross? That’s not the kind of gift we would have thought of, but it’s what this world needs. And we’re to joyfully accept this gift and to share it with others. In doing so, we’re not only joyful, but we help fill the world with JOY!
Today, we’re again looking at a passage that isn’t often used during this season. In Acts 8, Philip guides an Ethiopian Eunuch to faith… Philip, in this part of Acts, is transported around like the characters from the Enterprise in the old Star Trek TV show. He’s preaching in Samaria, only to find himself in the Gaza when he meets the Ethiopian. Afterwards, he’s heading to Caesarea. The joyful gospel spreads throughout the region.
After the reading of scripture:
Jesus came to save sinners. We often hear these words of Paul from 1st Timothy echoed in our Assurance of Pardon after we confess our sins.[2] Jesus came to save sinners. Our passage this morning emphasizes this role of our Savior. In our passage, the good news is experienced by someone first century Judaism would have considered beyond redemption. For a first century Jew, you avoided foreigners. Furthermore, a eunuch, like a leper, was considered unclean. The assurance of this news fills the eunuch with such joyful excitement that he asks to be baptized the first chance available.
Now, we don’t know if this Ethiopian eunuch was a bad guy. To the contrary, the evidence we have within the text suggests he’s seeking God. He’d made a long trek up the Nile and across the wilderness to worship and to pursue truth. Only those who have a desire for God would have gone on such a pilgrimage. Of course, being good and bad has nothing to do with our need for God. We all need God which is why Jesus came.
Interestingly, this Ethiopian eunuch journeyed to Jerusalem to worship. As a eunuch, he was in the service of a queen. He was a high official in the court, the Treasurer. For this reason, he may have had some official business in Jerusalem. But we don’t know.
TV’s portrayal of this story
A few years ago, a TV mini-series titled “AD” put a Hollywood spin on the story of the early church. In order to make the story TV-ready, they filled in a lot of details with speculation. In the episode dealing with this story, the Ethiopian was driven out of Jerusalem. The Romans were going to kill him because they feared the Ethiopians would join with the Jewish Zionists against Rome.
As the eunuch leaves Jerusalem, he travels through Gaza where a wheel came off his chariot. Philip happens along the way. Not only does he interpret Isaiah for the Ethiopian, Philip repairs his chariot.[3] Of course, they’re trying to make a story that plays better on the big screen by providing a few additional details and altering a few others. Who knew Philip was a mechanic!
According to the text, we’re just told that the Ethiopian was in Jerusalem to worship—the rest of the details came from the NBC writers.
It’s interesting the Ethiopian went to Jerusalem to worship. Was he a God-fearer? One who studied the Hebrew scriptures but hadn’t yet converted? He couldn’t be accepted into the Jewish faith at the time as a proselyte. Circumcised was a rite that would have been impossible for this man.[4]
Who’s this eunuch?
Many of the commentators on this passage play down the man as a eunuch, stressing instead his official positions. He was an important man. After all, he had a chariot (Israel wasn’t filled with ‘two-chariot homes” in those days). He also had the ability to travel far away. As an African, he was exotic. Finally, he held a responsible position, the Queen’s treasurer. Think of a Steven Mnuchin or, soon to be, Janet Yellen, of the first century.
Despite his position, as a eunuch, he would not have been allowed to become a proselyte to the Jewish faith at the time. His status barred him from ever entering the temple. But in this encounter with Philip, he finds acceptance. Whatever happened during his time in Jerusalem, he now understands the gospel.
Interestingly, he came to Jerusalem to worship, but didn’t discover God by himself. It’s on his way home that God finds him. Ultimately, our conversion into the faith is grounded not in our search for the truth, but God searching for us. And God often uses other believers to help us understand.
Even the Scriptures do not help this man to fully encounter God. It takes someone else, Philip the Evangelist. (He could also be called Philip the Runner as we imagine him sprinting alongside the chariot.) Philip, at the Spirit’s request, heads down the Gaza road. His preaching has been very effective in Samaria, leaves a place where good fruit is being harvested in order to go into a wilderness area with no one around. Philip, here, demonstrates God’s concern for the lone lost sheep.[5] He helps this man understand the prophecy of Isaiah.
Philip’s role
God’s ways seem strange in our economy. Why give up what is good, the preaching in Samaria, for what seems to provide little return? Here, from what we’re told, the good news is heard by just one man.
The New Revised Standard version says he was sent south to the Gaza, but a footnote suggests this can also be translated as “at noon” he goes to the Gaza…” Who, in their right mind, would set out on a journey in a barren waterless land at noon? It would be unbearably hot. Furthermore, he has to run alongside the Ethiopian’s chariot. This isn’t Philip’s idea. God calls him to this task.[6]
As Philip hears the man read Isaiah, he asks him about it and is invited up into the chariot. There, an out-of-breath Philip lays out what God is doing through Jesus Christ. The next miraculous event is that they happen along a pool of water. Water isn’t common in the Gaza. But here’s a pond and the Ethiopian ask to be baptized.
Philip baptizes him and when the Ethiopian comes up from the water, Philip disappears just as Spock and Captain Kirk would disappear from a distant planet, leaving behind the inhabitants to wonder. But the Ethiopian isn’t worried. He’s happy. He’s joyful. The eunuch now understands. He travels on, praising God.
Perhaps, but don’t know for sure, he shared the gospel south of Egypt. We know that early in Christian history, the gospel thrived there. Even today, a strong Coptic Church remains in Ethiopia.
What do we learn from the text?
What can we take away from this text? You know, Christians are not made in a vacuum. One can’t just pick up this book we love (the Bible) and experience the fullness of a Christian life. The Ethiopian could read it, but he didn’t understand it.
Think about how you learned of the faith… Were there someone (or most likely “someones”) who helped you grow and understand that lead to your acceptance of Jesus? And how did you feel when you finally “got it?” Were you like the Ethiopian? Did your heart sing?
God uses people, believers, to help us understand, interpret and apply the Word to our lives.
A personal story
Let me tell you a story. Back in the early 1980s, after a painful breakup, I went through a period where I stayed away from church for a while. I was working for the Boy Scouts at the time. One day, I received a call from Bob Eplee (one of the district scout leaders). He said he and Junebug (another leader) wanted to talk to me. I assumed it was about scouting.
Bob, Junebug and I met a day or two later for breakfast. I had my notebook with me (this was before laptops and iPads). I was ready to work.
“Put your notebook away,” they said. “We’re not here for that.” Then they totally floored me when they laid it out on the table. “We think it’s time for you to come back to church.” We had all attended the same church, First Presbyterian in Whiteville, North Carolina. This meeting was their way to give me this simple but important message. Although they may not understand this themselves, I’m sure God sent them.
We have all had people in our lives that have shown us how to live as a follower of Jesus. For such people, we should be thankful and joyful. Furthermore, when we have a chance to share the message, we should be like “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas,” feeling grateful for a chance to make a difference in another’s life.
Conclusion
We’re coming up on a strange Christmas. Thanks to COVID, they’ll be many lonely people out there. As followers of Jesus, whose birth we celebrate, we need to do whatever we can to safely spread joy to the world. How might you, like Philip, put joy in the life of another person? Amen.
[6] See Beverly Roberts Gaventa, Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 2003), 141-142; and William H. Willimon, Acts (1983: Lousiville: Westminister/JKP, 2010), 71-72.
Today’s sermon (taped on Saturday, November 27, 2020)
Setting the state at the beginning of worship
For Advent, this year, we’re going to look at passages in scripture to help us understand the themes of each week. This week, the theme is hope. In future weeks, it’s joy, love, and peace.
Perhaps no one in history had the hope of Abram, who’d latter be known as Abraham. He’s the one with whom God planted a seed. That seed bore fruit nearly two millennials later, with the birth of the Christ child.
It all started in a desert. Abram was getting up in years, a lot like most of us. He was well past social security age, yet his best years were still ahead! That’s the kind of hope for which we should strive.
The best is always ahead because the future is in God’s hands!
After the reading of Scripture:
I love the view from our house in Laurel Fork. We sit up on a ridge with a small pasture dropping to the north. We have incredible morning views of the Buffalo, as some of you have seen from Facebook posts. But I’m really blown away on clear nights.
From our ridge, we have an unobstructed view of the north sky. I can easily make out Polaris, the North Star, at the handle end of the Little Dipper. Like a clock wrapped around Polaris, there’s the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia and her husband Cepheus. Snaked between them is Draco the Dragon, whose stars weave around the pole. I can also see a tinge of the Milky Way with its millions of stars
Because of our latitude, and with an open view to the north, I’ll be able to see these stars year around. I’ve never had such a dark view to the north. The other night, I took the dog out and gazed up on the dipper and Cassiopeia on the opposite side of Polaris. Then, about 6:30 AM, I took the trash can down to the highway. The constellations were reversed, having traveled around the Polaris.
The role of stars in the Biblical story
The stars played a more important role when there were no mass printed calendars, like the ones they hand out at Mayberry Trading Post. Our ancient parents mostly lived outdoors. Without electric lights to spoil the view, they knew the night sky well.
As you know, stars play a major role in the Christmas story. A star drew the Magi to Bethlehem. But long before that, God appeared to Abram in a vision. This vision instilled Abram with hope.
Exploring the text
God’s opening line is familiar. We hear it anytime a heavenly being approaches a mortal. “Do not be afraid.” Common sense demands that the appearance of God should be enough to make you shake in your boots. We should immediately, as the Christmas Carol goes, “fall on our knees.”[1]
In Abram’s case, there’s an ironic twist. He’s just done the impossible. In Chapter 14, he defeated a much larger force on the battlefield. He’s not just a wandering sheepherder; he’s a warrior.[2] Yet, God tells Abram, “Don’t be afraid.”
Then God continues, “I’m your shield.” Maybe God doesn’t want Abram to let this commando stuff, of leading a group of men who rout a much larger army, go to his head. It’s as if God says: “Don’t depend on your military skill, don’t depend on your equipment; don’t depend on your men; depend on me.” And then God promises that his reward will be great.
Abram shows boldness by complaining. “O, Great,” he says to God. “I’m an old man without an heir, what’s good is this reward to me?
In those days, those without a male heir would adopt a male slave. The slave, as an adopted son, would then be in charge of seeing to it that the man and woman of the house are cared for in their old age. Upon their deaths, the slave receives freedom and his adopted father’s property.[3]
Abram may have had this in mind when he mentions Eliezer as his heir. But God isn’t finished with Abram. God invites him to step outside the tent. God directs Abram’s eyes to the night sky and promises his descendants will be more numerous than the stars.
In the desert, at night, the sky is brilliant. The stars are even brighter than they are on Briar Hill. “Abram,” God asks, “Can you count the stars? If so, you can count your descendants!
Of course, Abram couldn’t count the stars. Four thousand years later, we’re still discovering new stars and galaxies filled with thousands of starts.
God’s presence and promises
I like the night sky. I never feel alone when I can see the sky. God’s presence is felt, not only with me but throughout the cosmos. The God who invited Abram to look into the sky and to consider the possibilities is with me. And God can do incredible things. We need to have faith. Our hope is in what God is doing even if we don’t understand.
I skipped over six chapters of Abraham and Sarah’s story to get to where Isaac was born. Those six chapters aren’t easy.[4] There are lots of bumps in the road. And they’ll be many more for it’ll be another 20 centuries or so before Jesus.
The hope we have in the Almighty isn’t necessarily something that happens overnight. Too often, in our culture, we are caught up in instant gratification. We’re impatient. We don’t like waiting. But Advent reminds us that while we have hope, we also have to wait. But as we wait, we need to hold on to the dreams we have.
Reality Checks
Do you know what a reality check is? It’s a two-word concept often used to kill great dreams. Some of these dreams may have been realized if only attempted. A reality-check is often akin to sticking a needle into a balloon. Just when great ideas are generated, someone comes along and tells you why it can’t be done. You lose faith. Sure enough, the naysayer is proven right.
Abram didn’t need a reality-check. He’d done that himself, I’m sure. Anyone could have told him he was washed up. He was old, way too old for a baby. Abram didn’t need so-called friends to tell him this. He knew it.
Instead of a “reality-check,” Abram really needed a “God-check.” We also need those kinds of checks. God directs Abram’s eyes to the skies and says, “Count ‘em, if you can.” Like Abram, we sometimes need our horizons expanded. Certainly, the God of creation, who set the stars in the universe, is more powerful than us.
You know, we worship and serve an awesome God. Yet, we tend to put everything on our own shoulders, thinking we must carry the burden. We have a hard time trusting God, but when we step out of our comfort zones and decide to follow a hunch, God can surprise us.
A few years ago, before COVID, Craig Barnes wrote about the “anxiety” in the church. All over, he said, people are worried. Folks are anxious. What will will happen to the church. Are we going out of business?
But listen to what Barnes wrote:
When I was working through my way through a graduate program in the history of Christianity, I became convinced that there is no rational explanation for the church’s survival… [but] there are many compelling political, intellectual, and social reasons for it to have gone out of business… And none of those threats were ever as dangerous to the church as it was to itself. We’ve always been our own worst enemy when we fail to live out of the gospel we proclaim. But still the church perseveres. The only possible explanation for the church’s survival is that Jesus Christ chose to use it to continue his mission of bringing the kingdom of God to earth.[5]
It’s not about us; it’s about God. When we trust God and ignore the “it can’t be done” voices surrounding us, incredible things happen!
A personal story
Let me tell you a story. Ken Tracy served as executive presbytery when I first went to Utah. A compassionate man, he helped match me to that congregation. They were small and struggling but had great dreams. After I was there about two years, we came to presbytery with our proposal for a new church campus. Ken called for a reality check. “You’ll never do it,” he said. “It’s beyond the ability of that congregation.”
Luckily (it really wasn’t luck, it was providence), we prevailed. We were able to sell the presbytery on the idea. Shortly after that, Ken moved to Alaska. But his father was in St. George, a town that shared a daily newspaper with Cedar City. His father sent Ken a frontpage clipping of our opening. Ken called me to congratulate us. He said he was happy to acknowledge he’d been wrong.
Understand this, it wasn’t because of any great thing I did. Nor was it about anything anyone in the congregation did. Yes, everyone made a gallant effort. But God wanted that church built. God gave us hope and saw to it that we had the resources. Yes, at times we had to struggle; at times we worried about running out of money and having to put the project on hold. Our new church home wasn’t presented on a silver platter. But we held to the vision and, despite the naysayers (and Ken wasn’t the only one), built the building. And the congregation continues to flourish.
Interestingly, Abram believed, even though his promise was off in the future. God takes time to fulfill everything. There will be periods when his descendants would be slaves. The fulfillment of the promise won’t necessarily be easy.
Lessons from this passage
We should remember a few things from this passage. First of all, we have a God in change and in control of the future. We can give up our attempts at being in control and trust God to take care of those things over which we have no control. If we are willing to trust God’s providential care, we will be happier and less anxious.
Second, with God, our abilities do not restrain possibilities. God is not bound by human limitation.
Third, our hope is not for an immediate answer to our problem. The answer, as it was with Christ, may take many generations.
Finally, just because God is with us, we will not necessarily have an easy time. At times, things will be rough. We’ll have challenges. But the rewards are great.
Let me close by asking you some questions to ponder this week. What things have gone undone because we have failed to trust God? Are there dreams we killed with our reality checks? What could we do, if we trusted God and grasped at the possibilities? Look up to the stars and dream. For our hope is grounded in an awesome God, who came to us as a child. Amen.
Billy Beasley, The Girl in the River: The Grief of a Widower, The Hope of a Child (Abbeville, SC: Moonshine Publishing, 2020), 226 pages.
Billy Beasley tells a great story. Several of the characters in his first novel, set in the late 1960s, reappear here. We learn what happens to them fifty years later, as they play a supporting role to Clint Hurley, the protagonist of this book. A simple man, Clint finds himself wooed by Allie, a younger woman. They marry, have a family, and a near perfect relationship. Then Allie dies. Clint, who always assumed he’d be the first to go, finds himself alone except for his dog. He moves to a cabin on the Northeast Cape Fear River where, on the first Christmas after Allie’s death, he and his dog rescue a girl who’d fallen out of her kayak into the river. The girl had run away from her foster parents. As the cliché goes, no good deed goes unpunished. Soon Clint finds himself charged with child abuse and his dog, Josie, fights for her life. But everything works out. The closing epilogue, written thirteen years later by Jasmin, the girl who rescued from the river, tells of Clint and his dog’s death. They are both old and die together.
Evaluation
In a way, the story fits into the old ars moriendi (art of dying) genre. Clint shows his family and friends (and readers) how to have a “good death.” In another fashion, the story reads like a Hallmark Christmas movie. We have a log cabin, snow, special Christmas memories, and fires in the hearth and firepits out back. Christmas is an important theme as it is on Christmas that Allie dies. A year later, on Christmas, Jasmin floats into Clint’s life and saves him. For those who love dog stories, this book is also for you. The book also deals with race relations, another topic that Billy addressed in his first novel.
This book is a fast read. Billy writes about things he loves. Sports (especially Duke basketball), dogs (especially Australian Cattle Dogs), the Bible, and church. The book shows the possibility of love and reconciliation, something the world needs desperately these days.
Personal Connection to Author
Billy often puts into his stories people he knows. The doctor, who treated Clint’s heart attack, was Nicky Pipkin. This doctor shares a name with a friend of both of us, Nicky was a heart surgeon. In 2018, I officiate at Nicky’s funeral, just a few days before Christmas. I met Billy and Nicky at the beginning of the fourth grade at Bradley Creek Elementary School, shortly after my family moved to the Wilmington area.
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M. Craig Barnes, Diary of a Pastor’s Soul: The Holy Moments in a Life of Ministry (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2020), 235.
Written as a weekly diary, the novel begins in July as the pastor decides to retire the following June. While fictionalized, there is little doubt that many of these stories came from Barnes life and the lives of other pastors. In this book, one gets to see into a soul of a pastor. You see how much of ministry is mundane. However, there are also those special times when parishioners invite ministers into special times of their lives.
In this book you will see:
The pastor’s struggle within his own family as well as confessions of things that didn’t work out as planned.
Wrestling with what to tell to a congregation, including informing them on his prostate cancer.
The difficult decisions about staff and how sometimes the pastor finds themselves in a no-win situation.
The hurt felt by betrayal of members of a congregation who move elsewhere, often give false reasons for the move.
The pain pastors feel over the death of parishioners.
How parishioners attempt to pull pastors into awkward situations, such as attempting to use the pastor to encourage a son to go to a particular college.
At the end of the year, it’s over. There is a retirement party and its time to move on. Not everything wraps up neatly.
Evaluation
This is a very honest novel. I recommend it for anyone wanting to know what it is like to be in ministry. I have read most of Barnes book and have enjoyed them all. His book, When God Interrupts, is my favorite. I have probably handed out numerous copies of this book to those battling cancer over the years. When God Interrupts was written shortly after Barnes survived a bout with cancer. All his books contain significant theological and pastoral insights.
McAlexander grew up in Mayberry. While he found his way off the mountain and into the halls of academia (spending his working years as a physics professor), he always considered Mayberry his home. In addition to some physics texts, he has written many books set in this area, several of which have gone through multiple printings.
Shine on Mayberry Moon is about moonshine. There used to be a lot of moonshine made in this area (there was even legal distilleries in the area before prohibition). McAlexander provides the reader with a history of moonshine, along with many humorous stories. We learn about all kinds of things that might go into the mash. Of course, corn is essential (especially sprouted corn to help the fermentation). But if you want to speed up the fermentation, you add sugar which in times (like during the Second World War) could be hard to get. Sometimes moonshiners, who tended to be practical folk, found other means to make their mash. Cow, hog, and chicken feed were often added to the mix. And you can also use things like apples, which are abundant in the fall of the year.
In these stories we see how people reacted to the manufacture and (limited) trade in illegal spirits. Some looked the other way, while others were teetotalers who despised the practice. While this area has often been poor, there are times it has experienced an economic boon, such as during the Depression with two government projects: a dam for Danville, VA and the Blue Ridge Parkway. With many workers moving into the area, the local entrepreneurs found ways to satisfy needs. One story tells about a wife discovered there is a house of ill repute operating near the dam construction site. Taking matters into her own hands, she gathers up some dry brush and set the building ablaze. Customers and working women in various stage of dress flee.
McAlexander has a chapter on running moonshine. This wasn’t done much from Mayberry as the ‘shine distilled for local consumption. Sheriffs and revenuers didn’t mess as much with small-scale operators as long as they weren’t marketing it to a large area and made a product that didn’t cause anyone to get sick. He suggests that some of the legend of running moonshine, which was supposedly a training ground for stock car drivers, was probably just a legend. Of course, some illegal liquors were transported out of the area. It was that most wasn’t hauled in fast cars. McAlexander comments on “Thunder Road,” the movie which helped promote this legend.” While I’ve not seen the movie, the directors undoubtedly didn’t think enough of the audience’s wisdom. They kept changing the year of the car used in the chase scenes. While he suggests it’s not a good movie, I’m curious about it. However, I don’t think I could tell the difference between a 1950 and a 51 or 52 Ford.
The author suggests there are few if any stills burning in these hills today. Why would someone take the legal risk when you buy cheap liquor for less than it would cost you to make.
Evaluation
This book will give the reader some insight into mountain life in the early and mid-20th Century. The stories are entertaining and often humorous. I recommend it. When I move into an area, I always try to read and learn as much as I can about the local community and culture. It’s for that reason I picked up this book, written by one of the members of the Mayberry Church which I serve as a pastor.
One of my favorite Georgian authors is Ferrol Sams. A physician by trade, he began writing later in his life. I’d read most of his books before moving to Georgia and highly recommend his three-volume memoir.
In volume two, which is about his college years in the late 1930s, he writes about one of his professors. This professor asked his class how long it takes someone to go from the whining question, “Why me, Lord?” to the mature question, “Why not me, Lord? Both maintain the accent on the word me. But the one negative syllable separates two entirely different philosophies.”[1]
This is a good question. How long does it take to shift our focus from ourselves to God? The intent of the 100th Psalm, which we’ll look at today, is to encourage such a shift.
After the Scripture Reading:
Joy is essential to the Christian life. It’s a gift from God. It’s not the pursuit of happiness we in Americans so cherish. What we consider as “happiness” is transitory and fragile. Happiness often depends on external circumstances. For me, it might be the Pirates winning the pennant. If that’s the case, I haven’t been happy in a long time.
You see, happiness is contradictory. Hope rises on the sound of a well hit ball. The crowd holds its collective breath as the ball sails deep. The centerfielder runs and leaps high with his glove extended as he crashes into the wall. He falls to the ground. Then he stands. A grin comes across his face as he pulls the ball from his glove. The home crowd moans. The batter, who for a moment thought he was a hero, kicks the dust and heads toward the dugout. Some win, others lose. Some celebrate, others mope…
The Pirates might be a long shot for the World Series, but this might be the year the Steeler’s take it all. A virtual Superbowl party, anyone? Enough about sports.
Joy in an unshakable and unchanging God
A friend of mine commenting on this passage wrote, “This Psalm tells us that the joy we find in God is unshaken and unchanging because it is based on something lasting and unchanging.”[2]Get that? Something lasting! Yes, there will be plenty of disappointments in life to weight us down, such as homeruns stolen by a talented centerfielder, but true joy has another foundation.
True joy, of the everlasting variety, is found in God. To quote the prophet Isaiah, “the flower withers, the grass fades, but the word of God will stand forever.”[3] In other words, all we cherish and love in this life will come to an end. Flowers are beautiful only for a few days or maybe a week. Youth lasts but for a few seasons. Friends and loved ones die. If we are looking for eternal happiness in our lives here on earth, we’ll always be disappointed.
Focus on God, on that which is eternal, and we’ll be ready to join the chorus marching into heaven making a joyful noise. “Worship,” as the late Eugene Peterson once said, “is the strategy by which we interrupt our preoccupation with ourselves and attend to the presence of God.”[4]
We should want to worship God, to offer prayers of thanksgiving, to shout praises. Focus on God. True joy is knowing God and that we are loved by our Creator. We are claimed by our maker.
Psalm 100 is about the joy in God which “is the motive power of faith.” Our joy in God will lift our hearts.[5]
A Psalm of Worship
This a Psalm of worship. It was probably originally sung by the Hebrew people as they gathered in the Jerusalem temple. The first two verses serve as a call to worship.
Imagine the chief priest standing at the temple’s gate. He’s in his finest robe. Suddenly trumpets blast, quieting the crowd. Then, in a loud voice, the priest summons the multitude: “Make a joyful noise, worship the Lord with gladness, and come into his presence with singing.” The crowd responds, breaking into a round of “Holy, Holy, Holy.” If it’s November, they might sing “Now Thank We All Our God.”
“Know that the Lord is God, that he made us,” the third verse reads. “We are his, the sheep of his pasture.” We’re reminded why we’ve gathered. Our one purpose is to worship the Almighty.
God is king, but also a caring shepherd. Those gathered in front of the temple, preparing to enter, recognize they are to put away thoughts of grandeur for themselves. Furthermore, they are to put away petty differences between one another. This is not the place or time for selfishness or bickering. All who have come are to be together, in unity, in worship.
The same is true for us. We are to leave our petty differences at the door of the sanctuary. Worship isn’t about us; it’s about our God.
The message of Psalm 100
This may be a short Psalm, but it has a wonderful message for those of us who gather Sunday after Sunday to worship. “Psalm 100 initiates worship and sets forth a theology of worship,” according to one commentator.[6] The focus of the Psalm, as we learn in the fourth verse is God. As the final verse indicates, we worship because God is good, loving and faithful.
Gratitude
A key to being a Christian is gratitude. I don’t know how one can be a Christian and not feel it. Gratitude grows when we have our priorities right. Gratitude is not only good for our souls, it’s good for bodies.
A few years ago, there was an article in the Wall Street Journal that spoke on what we might do to benefit from this feeling:
“Gratitude is good for us in many ways. Studies have shown it strengthens our immune systems, helps us sleep better, reduces stress and depression and opens the door to more relationships. But to reap those rewards, we need to do more than feel grateful. ‘The word ‘thanksgiving’ means giving of thanks.’ says Dr. Emmons (a psychologist at University of California at Davis). ‘It is an action word. Gratitude requires action.’”[7]
Did you catch that? Gratitude requires action. We can’t just receive all the goodness God has given us without sharing. This is the meaning behind the secular holiday we celebrate this week. Thanksgiving is to be a time of sharing. The mythology of the holiday, whether or not it happened this way, captures a truth of gratitude. Pilgrims and Natives sharing a meal around the table in an expression of gratitude.
True gratitude leads to generosity. It’s a personal issue, one that we each need to struggle with and decide for ourselves. Are we generous? Are our lives gracious? Do we love God, our Creator, and want to praise him in thought, word, and deed?
The Psalm calls us to worship, but our worshipful attitude should be more than just what we do on Sunday morning. Likewise, we should be thankful more than just this Thursday.
Our thankfulness, our worship, should flow forth from our lives, from our hearts. It’s what should be most evident when others see us. Last night I saw a meme on Facebook in which someone asked an Amish man if he was a Christian. His answer was shocking. “Ask my neighbor,” was his response. Do others see us as Christians?
This Thanksgiving
In closing, let me say a little bit about this Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, the Center for Disease Control and many physicians are recommending that we not do much sharing around the table this year. Face it, sharing COVID would be a Thanksgiving downer. So maybe we need to revision just how we might share gratitude this year.
Maybe, instead of stuffing ourselves on turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce, we should spend this Thanksgiving a little quieter. We could spend a few minutes alone with God, reading Psalms of Thanksgiving.[8] We could also make a phone call or two. We could write a letter to a family member we miss seeing or to a long-lost friend. We could support Thanksgiving offerings where the money goes to those in need.
As we take these actions, remember to give thanks to God for the blessings we have. And let others see your gratitude. Amen.
[1] Ferrol Sams, The Whisper of the River (NY: Penguin Books, 1986), 498.
[2] Laura Smit, “Come, Let Us Worship and Bow Down,” Reformed Worship, #52 (June 1999), 14.
[4] Eugene Peterson was the translator of The Message (a Bible translation) and author of over 30 books on ministry and faith. This quote came from a tweet. (@PetersonDaily, November 12, 2017).
[5] Artur Weiser, The Psalms, Herbert Hartwell translator, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1962), 645.
[6] James L. Mays, Psalms (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 321
[7] Clare Ansberry, “Cultivating a Life of Gratitude, The Wall Street Journal (November 14, 2017), A15.
[8] Some additional suggestions of “Thanksgiving Psalms” from Walter Brueggemann, The Message of the Psalms: A Theological Commentary (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984), 125-139: Psalms 30, 40, 138, 34,65, 66, and 124.
The sun burns brightly in the blue sky. What warmth it provides is swept away by a strong breeze. The move, the death of my mother, settling into a new church, and dealing with the new house has taken a lot out of me. I need a break. I take Tuesday off and spend the afternoon hiking around Rocky Knob, along the Blue Ridge Parkway, east of Floyd, Virginia.
One of the surprises in the move came in our new house. I fell in love the view of “the Buffalo.” Perhaps that’s why I didn’t notice the large number of air freshers in the house. I’m not sure how, but when I first toured the house the day after it went on the market, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The former owners (children of the man who owned it) had the ceilings painted and aired it out. They may have even used an ozone machine to mask the smell of smoke.
The inside is prepared for paint. The picture in the bottom left is an early morning view of “The Buffalo”
I realize from the first time I saw the house, there are things to be done. With the house being smaller than the one in Georgia, I need to finish the walkout basement. I also envisioned adding a deck around the back to be able to fully enjoy the view of the Buffalo. Then there’s landscaping and what to do with five acres of pasture. I put all those things on hold. While moving in, entering the house after it had been closed up for six weeks, we realized the former occupants were smokers. Heavy smokers. Currently, we’re staying in a farmhouse of friends while painters are working hard to seal in the walls. When we move back in this weekend (or early next week), it will be very nice. For now, it’s an inconvenience.
I can imagine coming into this cabin and warming up at the fireplace.
I take Tuesday afternoon off. Driving to the Rocky Knob ranger station, I park my car and head off on the Black Ridge Trail. I take the loop which leads me to the West side of the ridge. The path drops into a hollow. I’m sheltered from the wind. After a few minutes of hiking, I come upon an old chimney. The craftsmanship is amazing. While there is no evidence of a house, the chimney appears to be in perfect working order. From there, I cross a small creek, as the trail heads back up toward the Blue Ridge Parkway. Just before reaching the Parkway, the trail heads south, with pasture to my right and the parkway high above me to the left.
When the trail climbed up and over the Parkway, as I left the hollow, the north wind became intense. I was now on the Black Ridge, which hangs high above Rock Castle Gorge, where I had hiked last August. Vegetation is thick in the canyon with tall trees reaching to the edge of the ridge. On top, the trees are short, gnarled by the wind. The grass remains green, even this late in the year. Granite boulders stick up in the midst of the meadow, creating a tombstone-like appearance. As with the old chimney, ghosts abound in these hills. I find a large enough boulder to block the wind and provide a back rest. For a few minutes, I write in my journal. Afterwards, I pull out Billy Beasley’s new book, The Girl in the River and read a few chapters. I’ll review the book in my blog next week.
Looking east. Rock Castle Gorge is to the bottom right.
I enjoy the chilly walk along the ridge, frequently stopping to look to the east. Passing a woman with two dogs, I say hello. One of the dogs is trying to get to me, but she says he’s in training. I smile and say I’ll continue on, in order not to entice the dog to run after me. When I reach my car, I check the time. It’s not yet 4 PM, I’ve been gone for less than two hours. Much of that time I spent reading. Not ready to head home, I set out to find another trail.
It’s interesting how the wind “designs” the trees along the ridge
