Our friend told us a story from early in his ministry when a little girl asked him, "What does God look like?" How would you answer a question like that? What was she hoping to hear? "He's an old man in a white robe sitting on a cloud?" "He looks a lot like your grandpa, only not as chubby?"

So my friend wisely took her to the Bible and showed her the attributes of God listed there. He's merciful and gracious in Exodus 34:6. He's our rock and fortress in Psalm 18:3. And, of course, in 1 John 4:8, he is love. Whatever our needs, there's an attribute of God that tells us of his care for us.

Micah's people needed to know what God looked like for them. Their desires had led them astray; sin held them captive, and their leaders had failed them. So, Micah presents them with three attributes that show them who they could trust God to be.

Of course, as we look at these attributes, we cannot help but see Jesus in them. So today, we'll see what God looked like for Micah's audience and who he continues to be for us.

I had my regular check-up, and the doctor is happy with my blood pressure and cholesterol. He says I'm looking healthy, but there's just one problem. I'm not sad enough.

He's ordered sackcloth and ashes for me. Oh, and a viewing of "Old Yeller."

Ok, so it's absolutely ridiculous that a doctor would prescribe sadness, yet that's precisely what Micah prescribes for his people. His diagnosis is that they have abandoned God, and his remedy is "lament and wail" (Micah 1:8) and to shave their heads as a sign of mourning (verse 16). Micah's people need to learn how to be sad.

But we don't want to be sad! Instead, we want to declare with Nehemiah, "The joy of the Lord is our strength!" But Micah asks us, "Do your hearts break for the things that break God's heart?" So until they do, Doctor Micah calls us to lament everything we aren't.

In this message, we'll hear what breaks God's heart and Micah's call to a holy sadness.

He's just some no-name preacher from a small town you've never heard of. I'm speaking, of course, of Micah of Moresheth. Wait . . . who did you think I was talking about?!?!

Tucked in the back of your Old Testament is the little book of Micah. He's not a big name like his contemporary, Isaiah. He doesn't stand out like his neighbor in the Bible, Jonah. Micah's not flashy; he's faithful. He calls us back to the heart of God and shows him to be infinitely compassionate and filled with lovingkindness.

I feel a particular affinity for Micah, and I'm eager to share him with you. Today at Kansas Christian Church, we'll hear Micah's call to walk with God and know his heart. We'll see that, despite living in a world where corruption infected the highest authorities, Micah found a way to point his people to hope—a hope we still share.

One of the things I love about enjoying a variety of foods is connecting with the cultures behind the flavors. Korea's short growing season and cold climate made pickled and preserved vegetables a necessity (and delicious). Latin influences and an abundance of chili peppers gave us the tastes of the southwest. And bacon cheeseburgers are just one of the reasons America is awesome! If you're willing to be a little adventurous, you can tour the world with your tastebuds!

Food connects us like nothing else; it has the power to cross cultural boundaries. Friendships are made through the sharing of meals. We take casseroles to those who are hurting and bring cake to those who are celebrating! A meal shared both nourishes us and allows us to be vulnerable with each other. Is it any wonder that the most significant expression of the presence of Jesus in our lives takes place in a shared meal around a table?

This month, we've heard the call from John's Gospel to "come and see Jesus." Again and again, those words invited us to come close and know Jesus for ourselves. So today at Kansas Christian Church, we'll go to the Psalms and hear, not come and see, but "taste and see that the Lord is good" (Psalm 34:8). It's an invitation to come near to God and experience his goodness firsthand.

I can't tell you how often I've sat in a movie theater watching the previews for coming attractions and thought to myself, "What's the point of seeing the movie now? The trailer told me everything that's going to happen!" The bad news is that the trailer ruined the end of the story; the good news is I saved myself ten bucks by not needing to see the movie!

But sometimes, the end of the story is not the story. We see that in the cross, and Jesus' empty tomb as the story continues in the life of the church. We also see it in the story of Jesus raising his friend Lazarus from the dead. Is the story really about Lazarus living again, or is there more than just the end of the story?

There's more happening than just Jesus raising Lazarus to life. Through the story, we see him raising the faith of his disciples, Lazarus' sisters, and the whole community. And the story doesn't end there because he still raises our faith through what he did for Lazarus.

There are some people we know by name and others we know by shame. We know their stories and mistakes and how they've disappointed themselves, their families, and their communities. But everything we know about someone is in the past. So how do we look ahead and see the possibilities known only to God?

In John 4, Jesus encounters a woman at a well. Everyone in her community knows her story and shame. As far as they're concerned, they know exactly what she is. But the one who knows her heart sees potential she hasn't even seen in herself. And through one encounter with Jesus, everything changes; her life, home, and community.

I think about her encounter with Jesus, and I think about those we know who convinced themselves long ago that they were too broken to be of any use to anyone—especially Jesus. How might we convince them of the potential Jesus has in store for them? How do we see that same potential in ourselves, for that matter?

Today at Kansas Christian Church, we invite you to "come and see" what Jesus does through this woman at the well and see what he longs to do in the lives of people we may have written off long ago.

I never thought I’d be one of those old guys, but it turns out I am! I was standing in line at Walmart, waiting to check out. I turned to the complete stranger behind me, showed him the picture on my phone, and said, “This is my granddaughter!” It all happened so fast that I didn’t even realize what I was doing!

And no, it wasn’t an isolated incident. It happens almost daily now. It’s really not my fault; she’s just so darn cute!

Love does that, though. We want to include others in our joy and invite them to see its worth for themselves. So grandpas show off pictures, newly engaged couples show off rings, and families show off new homes. We invite people to “come and see” what we value and love.

We hear the invitation in the Gospel of John. Philip wants his friend Nathanael to meet Jesus because he believes him to be the one they’ve all been waiting for. His invitation in John 1:46 is simply those words, “Come and see.” It’s an invitation we can still extend to our friends when we want them to encounter Jesus.

Today at Kansas Christian Church, we invite you to “come and see” what Jesus is doing in and through us. Come and see the relationships that strengthen and support us. Come and see the possibilities that Jesus has for you.

I call it my "Blurb," and I post it on Facebook every Sunday morning. In fact, you're reading this week's blurb right now! I try to keep it short and encouraging and use it as a preview for the sermon I'll preach later in the morning. My goal is always that the blurb will stand on its own, but if I've done it right, it might whet your appetite for what I'll be serving up in the sermon.

I was in a preaching class last summer when our professor posited that while we're all interested in learning to preach better, our listeners could benefit from an occasional message on how to hear a sermon—listen for our main points, follow the structure, recognize the power of illustration, and anticipate our conclusions. I thought it was a great idea and took it as a challenge, so today, on the first day of 2023, I'll be presenting the "How to Listen to a Sermon" sermon.

I believe in preaching and take my calling seriously. I'm also aware that (to misappropriate an old quote) "Sermons are like sausages, no one should have to see how they're made!" It's a messy business, but today at Kansas Christian Church, we'll take a peek at how the sausage is made and see where we will be going with our messages in the coming months.

It's Christmas morning, and not a creature is stirring except for me (and one cat). My mornings usually start early anyway, but this morning I found myself lying awake in bed, contemplating getting up, contemplating Christmas on a Sunday, thinking about the old, old story and the new sermon I'll deliver today. I finally decided it was time to get up a little over an hour ago.

The cat was already waiting for me.

One of the struggles preachers feel this time of year is the question, "how do we tell the same story again this year and make it feel fresh and new?" Does it require a laser light show or drummers suspended on wires (I've seen videos of both this year)? Or, as the Grinch wondered all those years ago, "What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?"

The truth is, it means quite a bit more! That moment in time we call the incarnation—the Christmas story—originates in eternity itself. Long before "unto us a child is born," there was, as John puts it, "the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God" (John 1:1). In Christmas, that eternal Word stepped from eternity into time and, as Paul follows up, "emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men" (Philippians 2:7).

The story we tell again this year is not just about the birth of a baby but that God emptied himself of himself, submitted to life among us, and death for us. It's not just the old, old story, it's the eternal story, and every time I hear it, I hear something new.

It's such a small detail and seems so insignificant. All babies were wrapped in swaddling cloths in those days! Why does Luke feel the need to mention it twice?

Because there's mystery in the ordinary for Luke and there's God wrapped in strips of linen at the beginning of his Gospel, and then again . . .