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In the bleak midwinter

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My favorite Christmas carol is “In the Bleak Midwinter.” The lyrics are by English poet Christina Rossetti and was first published, under the title “A Christmas Carol” in the January 1872 issue of Scribner’s Monthly. The poem first appeared set to music in The English Hymnal in 1906 with a setting by Gustav Holst. Holst is best known as the composer of the tone poem “The Planets.”

Harold Darke’s anthem setting of “In the Bleak Winter” was named the best Christmas carol in a poll of some of the world’s leading choirmasters and choral experts in 2008. Here are the lyrics:

In the bleak mid-winter Frosty wind made moan;

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak mid-winter Long ago.

Our God, heaven cannot hold Him

Nor earth sustain,

Heaven and earth shall flee away

When He comes to reign:

In the bleak mid-winter

A stable-place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty —

Jesus Christ.

Angels and Archangels

May have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim

Thronged the air;

But only His Mother

In her maiden bliss

Worshipped the Beloved

With a kiss.

What can I give Him,

Poor as I am? —

If I were a Shepherd

I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man

I would do my part, —

Yet what I can I give Him, —

Give my heart.

Rossetti opens “In the Bleak Midwinter” with a simple yet powerful description of winter. Her personification of the moaning wind gives the first line a child-like tone. Rossetti pairs up natural elements for straightforward similes: “Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.” The simple couplet rhyme scheme, which continues throughout the poem, gives us the sense that Rossetti is telling a familiar and much beloved tale. The phrase “Long ago” adds to the nursery-tale tone.

Rossetti does not introduce Christ and his human incarnation until after the first stanza. When she finally does, it clearly becomes the focal point of the poem. The second stanza encompasses the core of Christian theology: Christ must be born on earth, live and die as a human, and then be resurrected and return at the end of the Earth. In the midst of this complex theology, Rossetti includes the repetition of her opening line, “In the bleak midwinter,” as if to bring comfort to such mysterious and detached theological doctrine.

In the third verse, Rossetti contrasts the magnificent divine with the humble circumstances of Jesus’ nativity. She borrows the biblical phrases “Angels and archangels” and “cherubim and seraphim,” allowing the internal rhyme sounds to enhance the poem’s melodic meter. She emphasizes the importance of Christ’s humanity through the image of Christ’s mother kissing her baby. In this verse, Rossetti also celebrates the unique value of human love.

In the final stanza, the poet places herself in the poem by wondering what gift she would offer the baby Jesus if given the chance. Her repetition of “If I were” and “what can I give Him” in this stanza add to the child-like earnestness of the poem. In general, Rossetti limits her poetic devices to the song-like aa bb couplet rhyme scheme. However, her restraint speaks volumes about her attitude towards divine mysteries that require a child’s innocent and sincere faith. The final words in the last line suggests the poet’s decisiveness in her desire to give her heart to Jesus.

Categories: Newsletter

Crossing over Jordan

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Crossing Over Jordan
Matthew 3:1-17
December 10, 2017

​”And Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan River, to be baptized by John.” The Jordan River. When I first visited Israel and saw it, I was disappointed. It’s not much of a river, it’s more like a big creek. But the Jordan River is big in the Bible. The very name evokes deep and long memories, memories that offer us a perspective on Advent.
​The river Jordan, which fed the green valley that Lot chose for himself.
​The river Jordan, which the Hebrew children crossed from their wandering into the Promised Land.
​The river Jordan, where Naaman the leper washed and was healed.
​The river Jordan, where Jesus was baptized.
​The river Jordan, that river that flows from that ancient land into the heart of those who believe and flows into some of our most beloved hymns:

​”When I tread the verge of Jordan,
​Bid my anxious fears subside.”

​”I looked over Jordan and what did I see
​Com’in for the carry me home
​A band of angels comin’ after me.
​Com’ in for the carry me home.

The river Jordan marks a boundary, a crossing point between two regions of existence–
​–between wandering and home
​–between sickness and health
​–between promise and fulfillment.
​–between life and death
​When we enter the chilly waters of the Jordan and cross to the other side, we don’t know whether we will make it or not. For we are leaving behind a world that is known for a world that is unknown.
​When the Hebrew children crossed into the Promised Land, they didn’t know what was out there in the future. Moses had died. A new leader, Joshua, had come onto the scene. The only thing that had going for them was the words of the One who had led them thus far: “No one will be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not fail you or forsake you.” (Joshua 1:5-6)
​The Jordan River is a place of transition, a place that Jungian psychologists call “liminal,” a threshold when we cross from one place in life to another.
​My friend, Jungian therapist Murray Stein has written a book about the inevitable transitions that occur in mid-life. When we leave the first half of life and enter the second half of life we enter a period of psychological upheaval and turmoil. All the things we work for and prize in the first half of life–power, possessions, positions, and accomplishments–no longer have the same meaning as they did before. Jung was fond of saying that the program for life’s morning is not adequate for life’s afternoon. In mid-life our psyches cry out for meaning, for depth, for freedom. Murray Stein calls mid-life crisis a time of psychological “liminality,”: liminal being the Latin word for crossing a threshold.
​ When we are drifting in an unfamiliar territory, as we are in any situation of liminality, new questions press in upon us that we have never asked before. Those new questions always emerge from deeply within us, and they always have something to do with the ultimate meaning of our lives.
​Mid-life is only one occasion in life of liminality, of transition, of crossing from one side of Jordan’s banks to the others. When we leave home for college, or leave mom and dad to take the first job, we cross the Jordan. When we marry, when we have our first child, we cross the Jordan. When we move from one city to the other, when we take a new job, when we retire, we cross the Jordan.
​One of the riskiest periods for men is the first two years after retirement. There is a higher incidence of mortality in these two years than any other period in a man’s life. As men, our identity is so intertwined in our work, we can’t let go without letting go of something so fundamental that it nearly kills us.
​To approach the bank of the Jordan is scary. If we plunge beneath the waters, what will happen to us? Will we make it safely to the other side? And once we get there, what will happen to us?
​For those of us who have lived in Chicago, the death of Cardinal Joseph Bernadin was a deeply moving experience. He was a man of rare grace, and exemplified all the characteristics of the beatitudes: gentleness, meekness, humility, purity, and mercy.

​”For so may years I’ve tried to help people learn how to live,” Bernadin said in the summer before his death in 1996 as he announced he was dying of cancer,” “Now, perhaps I can teach them how to die.”
​I want to read to you just a few excerpts from his memoir, A Gift of Peace, edited just a week before his death.
​”A feeling of helplessness came over me in the doctor’s office. I now realize that when I asked my doctor for the test results, I had to let go of everything. Again, God was teaching me just how little control we really have and how important it is to trust in him.”
​”One of the things I have noticed about illness is that it draws you inside yourself. When we are ill, we tend to focus on our own pain and suffering. We may feel sorry for ourselves or become depressed. But by focusing on Jesus’s message–that through suffering we empty ourselves and are filled with God’s grace and love–we can begin to think of other people and their needs; we become eager to walk with them in their trials. My decision to discuss my cancer openly and honestly has sent a message that when we are ill, we need not close in on ourselves, or remove ourselves from others. Instead, it is during these times when we need people the most.
​”It is the first day of November, and fall is giving way to winter. Soon the trees will lose the vibrant colors of their leaves and snow will cover the ground. The earth will shut down, and people will race to and from their destinations bundled up for warmth. Chicago winters are harsh. It is a time of dying. But we know that spring will soon come with all its new life and wonder. It is quite clear that I will not be alive then. But I will soon experience new life in a different way. Although I do not know what to expect in the afterlife, I do know that just as God has called me to serve him to the best of my ability thoughout my life on earth, he is now calling me home.”
​When we come to the banks of the Jordan, we could never muster the courage to enter the water, except for the fact that we hear those words, “As I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not fail you nor forsake you.”
​When we come to the Jordan, we know that generations have passed across safely. When we come to the Jordan, we know that its waters have been made sacred because our Lord was baptized there. When we come to the Jordan, and plunge beneath those waters so chilly and cold, we know that we will rise to new life.

Categories: Weekly Sermon

Mind the gap

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Mind the Gap
Luke 16:19-31
November 26 2017

​The rich man in this parable isn’t just rich. He is filthy rich, disgustingly rich. Jesus says he habitually dresses in purple and fine linen, the first century equivalent of wearing designer labels, Gucci loafers, gold chains, and Rolex watches. And he feasts in luxury every day, prime rib, rare wine, china on the table. In a country where the poor had only one set of clothes, and where they were lucky to have one meal per week, the rich man is a figure of overwhelming indulgence.
​Lazarus the beggar positions himself at the gate of the rich man, hoping to get the leftovers from the rich man’s table. He’s covered with ulcers and is so weak that he can’t even fend off the dogs who come to lick his sores.
​In the time of Jesus there were no knifes, forks, spoons or napkins. People ate food with their hands, and in a very wealthy houses, people cleaned their hands by wiping them on hunks of bread, and then they were thrown away. It’s this bread which Lazarus was waiting for.
​Then the scene shifts to the next world, and Lazarus is in paradise and the rich man in hell. Jews believed that Paradise and hell were in sight of each other, so that when the wicked in hell looked upon the bliss of those in heaven, their suffering was intensified, and vice versa, when those in heaven looked upon those suffering in hell, they smiled in contentment.
​When I was about eight years old my little Methodist church in North Carolina had a revival. There was a visiting evangelist who came and preached. I don’t remember much about what he looked like, but I sure remember what he said. He told us that if didn’t accept Jesus as our Lord and Savior we were on our way to hell, sure as shootin’
​He described hell so vividly that I could just see it. The lake of fire, being tormented by its flames day and night, the hell hounds chasing us with their spears or pitchforks or whatever hell hounds carried. And the smell of sulfur and burning flesh.
​And then he said, “Think about a day in your life when you were in terrible pain, awful pain, wracking pain.” (I could remember such a day for I had just come that week the dentist and had a tooth pulled without Novocain.) And the evangelist said, this is the way it will be for you in hell, except the pain won’t last for a minute or an hour or a day or even a year, but for all eternity.
​“Do you know how long that is?” Do you know how long you are going to be there?” My eyes got real wide.
​“Just imagine a granite mountain 10, 000 feet high, and every 500 years a bird flies back and touches its wing on the mountain, just barely touches it. And when that bird wears that mountain down level with the ground that in hell is before breakfast. That’s how long eternity is.
​Well all I gathered from that sermon was that I sure didn’t want to go to hell. I couldn’t figure out how I was going to keep from going to hell, for growing up in the Bible belt made you always feel like you bad and guilty of all sorts of sins and you were on your way to hell. But I did know one thing. There may be a lot of people in this world who were going to hell, but the one category of persons who were not going to hell but going to heaven were preachers. So I decided I want to be a preacher. And that’s the story of my call to the ministry.
​So what exactly did the Lazarus do to end up in heaven. We don’t know, but his name means “God is my help” so that may be a clue.
​And what did the rich man do to end up in hell? He certainly didn’t mistreat Lazarus. He didn’t object to him getting crumbs from his table. He didn’t have his servants remove him from his property. So what was it.?
​I think it was this: Lazarus, to him, was just part of the landscape. His village was teeming with the poor. His philosophy was that the poor we will always have with us. It didn’t bother him one whit that a sick, hungry, and suffering man lay at his gates while he feasted in luxury.
​You might call it the sin of not noticing. And how many insignificant souls are part of our landscape each day, and we never even see them. I’m not even thinking here of those, who like Lazarus, are in desperate need. I’m thinking, for example, of society’s forgotten people–those who have menial jobs, the men who dry off our cars at the car wash. The bus person who clears our table. The Hispanics who do our yards.
​I was playing golf one day and my caddie was an old, stooped grizzled man whose name was Morris. On the sixteenth hole Morris asked me what I did and I told him. He said, “That’s wonderful.” He went on, “You know, I study the scriptures every day. But I’ve never been called into the ministry like you. It’s such a privilege to be called to do the Lord’s work.”
​And I said, “Yes it is. Yes it is.”
​Now here was a wonderful man with a wonderful spirit about him. My caddie. A child of God. Perhaps in God’s sight, he is greater than I. If you follow the conclusion of this of this parable, in heaven, I’ll be caddying for him. I don’t know. ​
​The sin of not noticing. The sin of having the poor and the nobodies among us, and going about our own way oblivious to them.
​When the rich man asks Father Abraham to send Lazarus down to hell to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool his tongue, Abraham replies: “Between you and us a great chasm has been fixed and no one can cross from here to there.”
​Barbara and I were in London a few years ago and we rode the underground to get around the city. Just before the train comes to a stop at the station there is an electronic voice which urges people to pay attention as they are getting off the train, because there is a space between the train and the platform. “Mind the gap,” it says, “Mind the gap.” Pay attention to the divide. It could trip you up.
​The sin of the rich man wasn’t his wealth, but his attitude.
​There is no place in heaven for you, Jesus is saying, if you ignore the poor.
​There is no place in heaven for you, if you ignore the suffering of the world.
​There is no place in heaven for you, if you fail the test of compassion.
​I’ve been thinking this past week where I fit in this parable, for the parables come alive for us when we find a character in them we most identify with. And I realized that it was in 1985 when it hit me that I was a rich man. We spend a summer of ‘85 in South Africa and worked in Crossroads, a squatter camp. One day we walked into a male hostel where 17 mean lived in a room not much bigger than my master bed room. Half-naked children playing on the muddy, sewage strewn streets. Idle men sitting outside their living quarters–no work to be had. Women carrying their water buckets to the one tap in the neighborhood where you had to stand in line for twenty minutes.
​Up until that time I had always thought of myself as middle class.
But then it hit me: by their standards, by the world’ standards, by God’s standards I am rich.
​Let me lay it out for you. My wife and I have two cars, a nice home in Litchfield Park with a swimming pool. I live in a country where I get a nice social security check every month from our government, a nice pension from the Presbyterian church, and a nice salary from the First Presbyterian Church, but, members of Sessio, I probably wouldn’t turn down a raise. My wife and I are on Medicare and we have supplemental insurance.
​But some might say: “What about a catastrophic illness at the end of your life which will drain you of all your resources? You know, you can never have enough because anything can happen.”
​Well, if that happened I guess we’d do what others do. Sell our house. End up in a sun room in a care center surrounded by others in wheel chairs and plastic lilies and large-print bibles. We could last for a while like that, and if we were still alive, we’d call our kids and say, “Your turn.” And when that ran out I will be wheeled in to this sanctuary, “OK folks, now it’s your turn.”
​So here we all are, as rich as Croesus, and not even acknowledging it. Here God has laid upon us blessings of wealth, and I mean wealth, not time not talent, but treasure. We are the rich man in this story.
​And the question the parable punches us with is this: what are we going to do with all that we have. ​
​Long ago, when I was that eight year old child at that Methodist church and the evangelist finished his sermon, he issued an invitation to all who wanted to come down to the altar and pray, to all who wanted to to make a first time commitment to Jesus, wanted their hearts to be right with Jesus.
​Listen. I will tell you something. When our hearts are right with Jesus we will empty our pockets for somebody else’s children. We will mind the gap between the sky of our intentions and the earth of our performance, and we will feel the razor edge of the moral demands of the Christian gospel. And that will bring us face to face with God.

Categories: Weekly Sermon

Sermon 11/19

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The Peril and Promise of Prosperity
Luke 12:48; November 19 2017

​”For everyone to whom much is given, much will be required.” Are there any words of scripture that hit closer to home than these? For we have a level of prosperity that would stagger most of the people live on this planet.
​I got a new perspective on my own prosperity and privilege when Barbara and I went to SE Asia last month. We went into the slums of Bangkok–garbage and litter on the street, no one owning a residence of more than two rooms. We visited a family in a floating village in Cambodia–two rooms for eight people. Our guide said, “These people live simply but they are happy. And then I came back to look at my own life with different eyes. My home filled with such lovely, nonessential things. Furniture I never sit on. Three sets of dishes. A closet full of clothes. Food enough for weeks. I was as rich as Croesus, and I didn’t even know it.
​When I was a teenager I was involved in an organization called Youth for Christ. One night at a Youth for Christ rally an evangelist spoke about the second coming, when Jesus would come again. If Jesus would come again, he said, we teenagers wouldn’t want to found doing something Jesus would disapprove of…such as being in a movie or dancing. By the way the reason Southern Baptists are opposed to premarital sex is that it looks too much like dancing. Well, the Youth For Christ leaders said, we wouldn’t want the returning Jesus to find us in a movie theater or at a dance.
​Well, as I have gotten older I don’t think I would be embarrassed if Jesus came again and found me dancing or in a movie. I think where I would least want to be found by a returning Jesus would be a place like the new Fry’s super store in my community. It’s the Taj Ma Hal of grocery stores. With all that food around me, and with all the hungry people in the world, I would feel the Lord’s judgment on my life there as much as any place.
​So I want to address the subject of our prosperity today. “To those to whom much is given, much will be required.” What does prosperity mean in light of the Lord’s requirements of us?


​The first observation I want to make about prosperity is that it tends to desensitize us to the pain and suffering of the world. We read about it, but we don’t feel it. We are educated–we can analyze what’s wrong in the world, but most of those wrongs don’t touch us personally. Our economic circumstances have lifted us above them.
​The home in which I was born was far from rich, but I never lacked any necessity in life. What’s more I was born in a family where books were honored, and television took a second place to games and reading, a blessing, believe me, a blessing.
​I was born in a family which expected me to go to college. My college education at Pfeiffer was financed by scholarships and scholarship loans.
​In short, I was born in a world of staggering privilege. I was never hungry. I never had to spend the night without some sort of shelter over my head. I have never known the situation of not having a father or mother. My father and mother always found work enough to make ends meet. And they both loved me with all their hearts!
​And we all know all around this church there are thousands of people who would give anything in their children could be reared as I was. They work their hardest, yet they have a tough time making ends meet. .
​And if someone should say to me, “Terry, you shouldn’t feel guilty for the way you were brought up,” I would reply, “I don’t feel guilty, but I do need to recognize the fact that I have been so privileged my entire life that I am blind as an own at noonday as to what is really going on in society.
​We all see those statistics the top 1% controls 38% of the wealth of our country The disparity is actually worse than Russia or Iran. The official poverty rate is 13.5 percent, based on the U.S. Census Bureau’s 2015 estimates. That year, an estimated 43.1 million Americans lived in poverty according to the official measure. We have in this country today luxury a la F. Scott Fitzgerald walking side by side with poverty so sordid that Charles Dickens would recoil in horror.
​The temptation of having so much is to build walls around ourselves. The temptation is that our hearts become hardened because we do not directly feel the sting of poverty and the injustice of racism.
​I was watching a PBS program not long ago where a group of African Americans were talking and one woman said, “You know, I just don’t think white people care very much about what is happening to us.” And by and large, I think she’s right.
​Since prosperous people do not feel the pinch of racism and poverty, we tend to be the last on board on the great social movements of our time, such as civil rights and affirmative action.
​William Gladstone was prime minister of the British empire during the 19th century. Gladstone was born in the best of circumstances. He said that during the first half of the 19th century the privileged classes, the aristocratic and educated classes, had been on the wrong side of every great social issue and if their opinion had prevailed, “It would have been to the detriment or ruin of the British empire.”
​Our prosperity desensitizes us to what is really wrong in society. Our prosperity builds a wall between us and the poor.


​The second observation I want to make about prosperity is that it is fleeting. It is like life. Here today, gone tomorrow. The applause, the acclaim, the good fortune dies so quickly. If you don’t believe it, try this test:
​Name the last ten winners of the Heisman trophy.
​Name the last ten winners of the Miss America beauty pageant.
​Name eight people who have won the Nobel prize.
​How about the best actress at the Academy Awards last year, and the year before, and the year before.
​Who won the World Series in 2007?
​Prosperity is fleeting.
​The things of this life that seem so important–the things we work so hard to cushion our lives–will vanish in a gust of wind. So the choice before us is this: we can either hold on to the things of earth or invest in the things of heaven.
​A prominent and wealthy man in a certain community died, and at his funeral someone whispered, “How much did he leave?” His neighbor answered, “He left it all.”
​There was a man from Scranton, Pa. by the name of George Frisbie. Before the great depression he manufactured silken goods and was quite successful. But when the depression came he lost his business, lost everything, and was out of work. He went from place to place looking for a job. Finally, his own church, the Asbury Methodist Church, hired him as a janitor.
​The interesting thing was that during his years in business George Frisbee was very generous with his church, and gave $25,000–a princely sum in those days–to build a pipe organ in his church. And now, here he was, a caretaker in the church where he had been a prominent benefactor.
​When Mr. Frisbee would take visitors around the church plant he would stop before the organ and the plaque that indicated it had been his gift. And he would say, “What I kept I lost, what I gave I have.”
​Prosperity is fleeting. We have to remember that to keep perspective on our prosperity.


​And that leads me on to make a third observation about prosperity. PROSPERITY WITHOUT PURPOSE IS POINTLESS. Living with prosperity is more difficult than becoming prosperous. Seneca, the Roman, said this:
​“Money has never yet made anyone rich.”
​There is a far deeper dimension to wealth than merely having it. Accumulating and acquiring it is nothing unless it is used for a redemptive purpose.
​We certainly need money to get along in this world. No question about that. Sophie Tucker had some observations about this. She said:
​From birth to eighteen a girl needs good parents
​From eighteen to thirty-five, she needs good looks,
​From thirty-five to fifty-five, she needs a good personality.
​From fifty-five on, she needs cash.
​We all need some cash.
God gives each of us the energy to earn a living, the genius to be creative, and the opportunity to utilize our gifts.
​But once we have earned our living, once we have become prosperous, that’s when the test begins. It’s not what we have that counts in God’s eyes. It’s what we do with what we have.
​We need a deeper purpose undergirding our prosperity, a purpose that will give priority and focus. I believe that begins with remembering that all of it, every dime, is a gift from God to be shared with others.
​William Allen White, the great journalist and philanthropist gave a park in Emporia Kansas in memory of his daughter, Mary, who was killed in a horseback riding accident. when he presented the deed of the property to the mayor, he said:
​”This is the last kick in a fistful of dollars I am getting rid of today. I have always tried to teach you that there are three kicks in every dollar–0ne when you make it–the second kick is when you have it–the third kick comes when you give it away…The big kick is the last one.
​I know most people look forward to stewardship season in the local church like they look forward to a trip to the dentist. It is always necessary, it must occur regularly, but it is rarely pleasant.
​Well, I want to do what I can to put a positive spin our stewardship drive this year. First off, the purpose of stewardship is not to raise money for the church’s budget. The purpose of stewardship is to cause each of us to examine our lives, asking, “What do we return to the Lord for all the Lord has done for us.” The purpose of stewardship is that we get an annual reminder that everything that we have and are comes as a gift from a lavishly giving God.
​I hope that all of you will step up your giving this year, and that all of you are engaged in the greatest adventure of all in the Christian life–in becoming a tither. I say that not because I am worried about meeting the expenses of our congregation. I’m not worried about our budget next year. I’m really not worried at all. God will take care of this church. No, I’m worried about some of you, because I’ve been in the ministry long enough to know that in every congregation there are at least one or two people who have an unconverted checkbook. And an unconverted checkbook is always a symbol of a deeper malady, an unconverted heart. So that’s what I’m worried about. For when you make a flat out commitment to Jesus Christ, the distance between your heart and your pocketbook is miraculously shortened.
​So I see stewardship season as I time to ask the question, “Does Jesus Christ have all of me, heart, soul, mind, strength, and wealth?”
​In a great church in Dallas, Texas, on a cold day in that city, a minister had delivered, by his own admission, one of those sermons where you wonder if it did any good at all. It had been a long week, and he was tired, and didn’t prepared as carefully as he usually did. At the end of the service an associate pastor was giving the invitation to discipleship, in a kind of half-hearted voice, “If you want to join our church, then visit with one of the elders following the service. ” ​Immediately after that announcement a man in the second pew stood up and in a loud voice said, “Do you mean I can’ come down right now and rededicate my life to Christ?”
​Well, you know you don’t we don’t do that kind of thing in a Presbyterian Church. By the time they had resuscitated the associate pastor, he turned to the pastor, and asked in a whisper, “What do I say?” The pastor forgot that he was still wearing a cordless mike, and the whole congregation heard him whisper back, “Say, yes, for God’s sake. That’s what we’re here for.”
​And not only did his congregation hear him, the service was being broadcast live on television, so the whole state of Texas heard what he said, “Say yes, for God’s sake, that’s what we’re here for.”
​That’s what stewardship season is all about. That’s what we’re here for. To say yes…for God’s sake, to turn our prosperity into something redemptive, to use what we have for God’s church, for God’s people, and for God’s kingdom.

Categories: Weekly Sermon

Trunk or Treat 2017 – Games

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The kids had a lot of fun bobbing for apples, wrapping up mummies and bowling.

Categories: Uncategorized

Trunk or Treat 2017 – Trunks

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The kids had a great time moving from trunk to trunk getting candy.  So many options, hard to pick a best trunk this year.

Categories: Uncategorized