I'm sure my count is off, but by my records, I've now preached something north of 1,500 sermons. The vast majority of those were written for the Kansas Christian Church, a church that challenged and encouraged a young man to preach again and again.

I was in junior high when the youth minister recruited three of us to help him preach a sermon one Sunday morning. I read my portion as fast as possible, knowing that the sooner I got done, the better for me and everyone else.

Then, as a freshman in Bible College, I was asked to come home to preach for a Youth Sunday. The night before, I tossed and turned and preached the sermon repeatedly in my head. That Sunday morning, the sermon took all of seven minutes, and I swore I'd never preach again!

Before we get to the messy goodbyes today, I can't help but commend Kansas Christian Church. Serving my home church for over two decades has been an honor, but our bond goes back further than that. We would be hard-pressed to name every soul who put us on this course together.

We could point to lessons learned in VBS fifty years ago, relationships built through youth groups, and families who brought an extra plate so the kid who came to church alone would have a place to sit during potlucks. We would point to those who thanked a nervous young preacher at the door thirty-eight years ago and assured him he did a fine job and they'd listen to him again.

And, from eternity's perspective, we would see the prayers of faithful saints who believed God could do more with a young man's life than he ever thought possible. And I know God continues to answer those kind of prayers.

In this, my final sermon at Kansas Christian Church, we'll pray a prayer we've been praying together for at least twenty-one years. I'm eager to share a message and a prayer with you.

A man once told me I was taking communion wrong. "It has to be one loaf," he said. "If it isn't, you're sinning." I countered by asking him, "What if it's a really big church? How do you make one loaf that serves a thousand in worship?" He explained to me that was why there shouldn't be any big churches. "A church should never be bigger than one loaf can serve," he said confidently.

I realized that's nowhere in the Bible! I also wondered if he had ever seen that episode of I Love Lucy where she bakes her own bread (if you know, you know).

In my years of faith, I've had communion with one loaf and multiple loaves. I've had unleavened bread, homemade bread, crackers, and croutons. I've had grape juice, wine, blackberry juice, and, one difficult Sunday, a glass of water. I've placed cracker crumbs on the tongues of the dying and given them a single drop of juice off the tip of my finger, reminding them of Jesus' presence and the nearness of his promise for them. "His body and His blood. Christ be with you."

I've come to believe there is only one essential element to the Lord's Supper, and it's not found in what's served on the table but who is encountered at the table. Oh, and sometimes there isn't even a table!

This message has been brewing in me for over thirteen years. In this passage, we meet Jesus at the table, and I'll tell you about another table where "a woman of the city" encountered Jesus. I'll also tell you about the long night when I learned a new communion song.

How far away is heaven? There are days when it feels very close, aren't there?

I've often returned to the words of the preacher Arthur John Gossip. He was about my age when his wife suddenly and tragically died. The following Sunday, he was in the pulpit, preaching a sermon he titled, "But When Life Tumbles In, What Then?" Given the freshness of his grief, he spoke words I've only begun to feel with my limited pain and perspective:

When we are young, heaven is a vague and nebulous, and shadowy place. But as our friends gather there, more and more, it gains body and vividness and homeliness. And when our dearest have passed yonder, how real and evident it grows, and near it is, how often we steal yonder.

I confess I didn't preach much about heaven when I was younger; it didn't seem important. But, over the years, as more and more friends have taken up residence in that "happy land, far, far, away," it's become a vital topic, and heaven has felt much closer. Wouldn't it be something if we could "steal yonder" and see what those who have gone on before us see? We would be amazed at how near heaven truly is.

Today at Kansas Christian Church, we'll do our best to "steal yonder" with John as he tours the throne room of God in Revelation 4. We will see both the strange and familiar on the other side of the sea.

I awoke yesterday morning to the news that Jimmy Buffett had died. I've long enjoyed his music, but more than that, I've always been struck by his ability to build community. There is no particular type of Jimmy Buffett fan ("Parrotheads," as they like to be known). Instead, you find people from every stripe of life: doctors, lawyers, truck drivers, motorcycle riders, preachers, and young and old alike!

I certainly can't justify all of Buffett's songs, but I maintain that there is something sacred about community. I can't help but consider the crowd at a Buffett concert and hear something akin to Acts 2, "Are these not Parthians and Medes and Elamites" . . . "and hippies and professionals and grandparents and grandchildren? We hear them all singing 'Cheeseburger in Paradise!'"

Early in Jesus' ministry, we find him already building community. Mark 2:2 tells us that, as he preached in a home in Capernaum, "many gathered together, so that there was no more room, not even at the door." I've seen concert crowds packed in like that! Rather than be dissuaded by such a crowd, four desperate men chose to get creative to find a way to get their friend to Jesus.

Getting people to Jesus still takes some creativity on our part. In this message, we'll hear the story of these friends and how Jesus had a greater blessing in store for them than they could imagine. He still has unimaginable blessings for us!

My ears perked up yesterday as I heard the unfamiliar phrase "Post-Traumatic Growth."

"That's not right," I thought. "They mean 'Post-Traumatic STRESS,' right?" Our painful and traumatic experiences leave us overwhelmed and weakened, living with the stresses we'll carry for the rest of our lives. That's all I've ever heard about, anyway.

But no—there is the possibility for greater blessings ahead! While we often focus on the pain and stress from trauma, the growth potential is even more significant than the potential for stress. Trauma specialist and counselor Kobe Campbell has found that on the other side of healing from trauma, one can find a life of personal strength, closer relationships, a greater appreciation for life, new possibilities, and spiritual development.

Psalm 13 is a testimony to the possibility of post-traumatic growth. It begins as a lament, crying out to God over the disappointment and unfairness of life. But it ends in a place of love, salvation, and grace. In the middle, David decided to trust God, the same choice we can make.

You've probably heard the old joke before. "How do you know when a politician is lying?" The answer is, "His lips are moving."

Psalm 12 seems to be written to point fingers at political figures. Verse 3 speaks of "flattering lips" and "tongues that make great boasts." In verse 4, they stand defiant to God's judgment, saying, "With our tongue we will prevail, our lips are with us; who is master over us?" Lips are definitely moving here!

But, a closer look at verse 2 reveals the psalm is not addressing your least favorite politician. That verse declares, "EVERYONE utters lies to his neighbor." The key word is "everyone." Psalm 12 is our own indictment; our character has been compromised, and our neighbors—the ones we're commanded to love as we love ourselves—suffer. Is there any hope for them? For us?

Paradise is burning. The news and images of the wildfires on Maui have been heartbreaking. This morning's news brought the death toll up to 93. A place renowned for its peace and beauty is experiencing loss and fear that I cannot begin to comprehend. Let's all pray for Maui.

It was startling to read how, as the fires overtook the community of Lahaina, around one hundred people sought refuge in the ocean to escape the fires and smoke, requiring their rescue by the Coast Guard. Refuge is often found in the most desperate places.

In Psalm 11:1, David declares, "In the Lord I take refuge." He found peace and safety in the presence of God while his world was burning. But even from his place of refuge, voices were taunting him to abandon the safety he found in God. Those same voices still taunt us to abandon our faith and return to the chaos of the fire and flood around us.

In Psalm 11, we'll find our refuge in the strength of God's presence, just as David did. In this message, Brenda Buell will share a story about a friend who found refuge in the Lord during a moment of fear. After worship, stick around for food, fellowship, and a visit with Brenda.

My son Connor loves music, and he's got some great taste in the songs he plays on his iPad. The only problem is he stops songs before they're over. "Click!" They're done when he's done! Sometimes he moves on to the next one; other times, he starts the song over again, never letting it finish.

This drives Daddy nuts (no worries, it's a short trip). I need a song to resolve, come to its conclusion, and wrap up as the artist intended. DJ Connor has no such need, though. He could listen to the scales on a piano, "Doe, Ray, Me, Fa, So, La, Tea ..." and be perfectly happy leaving it hanging.

"DOE, Connor! It has to end with DOE!!!!"

Connor would love Psalm 9. It's notorious for not having an ending. It just stops! Even worse, the questions that inspired David to write this song just hang there. "Why is there no justice in the world?" "Why does evil seem to thrive?" "Where is God while his people are hurting?" David asks his questions, but no answer comes back in return. Well, at least not in Psalm 9, anyway.

In this message, we'll go to Psalm 9 and hear the questions we've all asked of God. We'll let David lead us to the one who doesn't always offer answers but always offers himself.

The image on the thumbnail of this message is the result of focusing a telescope for over twelve hours on an area of space no bigger than a grain of sand held at arm’s length. This “deep field image” revealed that even the blackness of space is filled with creation. Those stars aren’t stars—they’re galaxies! The warps and swirls are caused by intense gravitational forces so strong they are actually bending light. The whole image is a peek into the distant past. The light you’re seeing is an astonishing 4.6 BILLION years old!

That image is from the James Webb Space Telescope, which allows us to peer deeper into those heavens than ever before. I find myself humbled and overwhelmed with the thought that, though these beautiful images have been present in the skies since long before recorded history, you and I are privileged to be the first generation to see them. I can’t help but find my soul drawn to Psalm 8:1, “Oh LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens.”

And, because I’m from Kansas, Illinois, when I see the James Webb Space Telescope images, I can’t help but think of our dear friend of the same name—better known to us as Jim Webb. While the mirrors of the space telescope reflect the lights of the sky, Jim had a beautiful way of reflecting the light of Jesus. In his humility and compassionate spirit, Jim demonstrated the love of God for everyone he encountered. I think about his character, and I cannot help but find my soul drawn to Psalm 8:3-4, “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?”

I share King David’s awe as I realize we don’t find the culmination of God’s creation in the wonders of the heavens but in the wonder of humanity that bears his image. I need a James Webb Space Telescope to show me the expanse of God’s creation. I need a Jim Webb to show me the expanse of His love.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me." We learned that one on the playground, and we learned it isn't true. Even the Bible declares it false! Proverbs 12:18 warns, "Thoughtless words can wound as deeply as any sword." Ephesians 4:31 instructs, "Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice." Words hurt.

We've all been on the receiving end of careless words that have cut us, and for too many of us, the words weren't careless; they were carefully calculated to wound us deeply.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can break my heart.

David wrote Psalm 7 in response to wounding words. In verse 2, he laments that these words have torn his soul apart, "rending it in pieces, with none to deliver." Rather than stew about them or wonder how he could say something back equally as cutting, David turns it over to God and pours out his hurt in the Psalm. I don't think we can hear Psalm 7 without hearing something of the wounds we've received, perhaps even the wounds we've inflicted on each other. But we also hear the promise of the righteous God who knows our wounds as deeply as we do.