Hope Rising!
Hope is a funny thing, we simply can’t live without it. I am on this side of the hospital now with my brother being the one who is a resident. No one told me how hard it is to be on this side of things. So I have had my share of feeling almost undone. The one thing that has given me the most hope is that I have been there and know that things don’t get better fast—you just lay there and languish. However, that is the most hopeful thing! The pneumonia doesn’t go away fast. To not get worse is actually a good thing. You are somehow muddling toward health if you just don’t get worse.

I have lived in that existential reality for this week, and I have lived in the exile and return this week as well. Both fill me with hope, kind of a muddling hope. In Ezra this week, we see a people utterly destroyed and taken as refugees into a strange land. Yet how do they manage to somehow keep their identity and not just become absorbed into the nations around them? Hope. They had the promise of God that they would be delivered. For Israel it always hinged on a promise: God will keep his promise of grace and love to us.

Along the way we will look at how God keeps his promises, and it is not typically by the miraculous but by God taking even the wickedness of men and weaving it into a better story. Nothing has changed really, has it? We still muddle along in uncertain times where we control very little, and yet we live with a greater promise than God’s ancient people had. We live with the hope that Jesus will heal all the brokenness of the world. And often all we can do is just hang on—in our grief, in our anger, in our shame—but hang on we must because the same God that brought his ancient people home promises to bring us home as well.

Hope to see you Sunday, live and in person or via livestream. I appreciate so much hearing from many of you weekly who have been with us online when you couldn’t be with us in person.

Oh, by the way, Josh and I talked and during Sunday School this week (yes, Sunday School starts back this week!), he will be giving an overview of the Exile. I really, really, really encourage you to come. This period of redemptive history is difficult to get your head around, and yet is crucial to understanding the world we see Jesus walking into when we come to the New Testament. Just as all the Old Testament is telling a story about Jesus, this one does so in a particular way.

Blessings,

Jim

Muddling Toward Messiah
Another new year is upon us and, when we arrive on Sunday, it will be the saddest day of the year. At least, that is what Brian Henson used to tell me. The day after January 1, the season of festivities is over, and everyone is pondering going back to the “same ol’ thing.’ For some, it will be packed with resolutions. I will see this at the YMCA when I won’t be able to get on a machine for about a month. Diets will abound and “self-help” books will be best sellers. Yeah, I have been on that hype myself. Pardon me if I sound cynical. And yet the new year does signal new beginnings and new opportunities to “improve our character”, if you will. It also says much about the people we are. None of us is who we want to be.

In view of that and the fact that most of life is more like a “path” (a long path) and not a “door” (a weekend where the ghosts of Christmas do it all in one night), the title of our next sermon series reflects realistically how true and lasting change and growth happens—muddling. The older I get, the harder change is. I find myself just trying to make sure I am muddling or stumbling in the right direction!

So, from now through April we will be looking at the books of Ezra and Nehemiah. These two books should be read together. Talk about muddling, we see it here in spades. While spectacular things happen in the rebuilding of the temple, the rediscovery of Torah, and the rebuilding of the wall, it never seems enough: each event is sort of anti-climactic. There is so much here. God, keeping his promises to a wayward people; God, holding the king’s heart in his hand; God, forming his people as a people of the book; and then our proclivity to overreach and think we can force change through law and method. Yet, in all of this, God’s grace shines through and his never-stopping, never-sleeping, always-pursuing love for his people is present.

Here is hoping you have a Happy New Year and that in this year we will know more of God’s love to his always-wandering children.

Blessings,

Jim

The Feasthood of All Believers
Merry Christmas Eve, friends.

For much of my early adulthood, my father and one of my sisters had jobs that prevented us from celebrating Christmas together on December 25. The day after was much easier to request off, and the arrangement left me and my other sister free to garner favor with our own sets of future and present in-laws by handing the traditional holiday over to them. So, the day after Christmas, we Smiths typically reserve the day to cook and consume an elaborate breakfast feast before my siblings, parents, and a few grands watch the rapidly multiplying crop of cousins joyfully destroy wrapping paper and reveal the secrets within. The best gift, of course, has been that for the last couple of years we’ve had five generations present!

My eccentricities are established enough in the family that they sometimes become ritualized even when there’s almost no intentionality to them. I think I started calling our holiday Boxing Day simply because that’s what was printed on the calendar in the space where I wrote in the even more obscure “Smithmas.” Now we all refer to the event interchangeably as both. There had been speculation as to the origin of the holiday known as “Boxing Day,” but no one ever bothered looking it up, since in those days the internet was not a thing one kept in one’s pocket. Speculations ranged from it being the traditional Canadian day for a formalized fight with siblings over the rightful ownership of contested gifts, to a postal service holiday after the grueling season.

In fact, even looking it up doesn’t offer much more clarity. It does, however, add a theory we hadn’t considered, and which seems to be the more likely origin. All over the world from time out of mind, December 26 is designated as the Feast of St. Stephen: the first martyr for the faith, and first recorded deacon of the church. His task, along with six other faithful men, was to justly administrate the distribution of food to widows in the church. So, for generations, the day after Christmas has offered a perfect opportunity for faithful to box up the excess from the previous day of feasting and deliver it to the poor. Boxing Day is properly a very practical celebration of St. Stephen’s Day.

As December 26 falls on a Sunday this year, before I head to my parents’ house for Boxing Day I’ll be in worship considering the life and death of St. Stephen. We’ll also remember Wenceslas, the man who honored Stephen’s feast day so faithfully, we still sing a carol about him a thousand years later. Both were simply following in the footsteps of the greatest table-setting King of them all. So, I hope you can be with us this Sunday as we all continue to stretch our imagination of what a good and godly feast can and ought to look like, regardless of its name or date.

- josh

A Primer for Party Planning
I know what you are thinking as you look at that title. Yeah, that is just Jim. He is always a party waiting to happen. He is a seven on the Enneagram, and then a little rolling of the eyes. And yet……What if Jesus set up throwing parties as an expectation? What if setting tables was at the heart of the hospitality of God and the Counterculture kingdom he was bringing? Because, shockingly, it would seem so. In our text Sunday, the exhortation is—when, not if, you throw a party! Curiously, as we will see next week (and I will not steal Josh’s thunder), the whole call of the ministry of deacons is cast around what? Setting tables.

So, Jesus gives us a primer for planning our parties, complete with instructions to the host about the guest list. This is what is shocking. He gives these instructions to a “religious leader.” The problem with Israel when Jesus arrives on the scene is not that Israel didn’t believe in throwing banquets—no, they were shaped by them and knew a grand feast was their future. But their banquets had become anti-culture—only people like us, only our peers and those we respect will be at our tables. Jesus drops a bomb on their narrow views and shows us a guest list that reflects the very gospel that would transform the world.

Curious? I hope so. We are in the season of parties, banquets, and special programs, and gathering people is at the heart of what it means to be human. And Jesus shows us a more excellent way with a huge expectation—you will be blessed! That is, happy, knowing deep satisfaction. And in a world where these things increasingly elude us, how great is that?!

So, join us Sunday, the fourth week of Advent, as we consider how the most mundane thing we do (eating) can reflect the cross—love, that is, life laid down.

Glory,

Jim

Feasting on the Edge of Doom
That sounds melodramatic, doesn’t it? And yet, as we make our way through the various Feasts of the Nativity, we are forced to reckon with this. While many of us still might think this whole idea of feasting frivolous or at least something of secondary importance­ – something only to be done if perhaps we have time and means – scripture and our own traditions of spiritual formation will beg to differ. I was rebuked one time for this kind of thinking myself, early on in our life of St. Patrick, when someone asked me after worship, “Why do you sometimes shorten the communion liturgy?” I replied, “Well, I am just trying to not go over too much.” He replied, “Why don’t you shorten your sermon?” Ouch! There it is, my latent gnosticism was rebuked, and rightly so.

It is hard for us as Presbyterians to really embrace that we are formed by “table” as much as “word.” But what if “practices” are as formative as just getting more Biblical information? We sort of see this in our text for this week. When God is reforming his people after exile, the people of God listen as God’s Word is read and they are cut to the quick. After this, they are exhorted not to go home and reflect in silence or grovel like worms. Rather, they are commanded to feast on the finest of things in joy and not gloom, in community, sharing with those who couldn’t provide. I would argue, the latter was as formative as the former. While the Word does form and inform our practices, if we neglect the practices, we do so to our own spiritual hurt.

While many of us suppose that the key to holiness is more information, the Bible and our spiritual formation directors, time out of mind, keep reminding us of practices and habits we do over and over, which don’t offer any new information, but do promise spiritual formation. I mean, what is the essence of holiness but to love God, love your neighbor, and love life? Word and habit seek to help us here.

In our text this week, it seems the best way to be formed as the people of God, especially while at the edge of ruin, is to throw a feast that both brings joy into the gloom and is also radiates light in the darkness.

Still skeptical? Yeah, it sounds too material, too frivolous, and not spiritual enough. But join me Sunday as we travel to the edge of ruin and see God forming his people around a feast of the finest of things.

Blessings,

Jim

Feasting in Hope
I had a couple of huge feasts recently. Both were for my birthday. One was thrown by my wife and had most of the begats and extended family. It was glorious and the food was amazing. My son-in-law cooked a prime rib over open flame for 4 hours and served it with a center of 125—perfection. My favorite cake—German Chocolate—graciously adorned the center piece as the hallowed birthday song was sung. The other was thrown by my staff as they took me to a glorious restaurant I hadn’t been to before. My Community Group also made me a German Chocolate cake, as well. (You might have guessed, it is my favorite!) What was true of all these events was that food was more than food. It was nourishment, of course, but who thinks about that on such occasions? It was love, family, belonging… and, of course, delicious!

Some would think this extravagant or maybe even unspiritual and yet, as Tim Chester says in his book, A Meal with Jesus: “Jesus is known through his catering”. Chester says this because, as he points out in Luke’s gospel, Jesus is always either going to a feast, coming from a feast, or throwing a feast. We are now starting the Christian new year with the season of Advent which culminates in the Feast of the Nativity on Christmas Day. So, what are we to make of it? How do we keep our scattered feasts well? Make no mistake, feast we will, if we are human. The question is, will our feast look like what God has in mind or what our culture is prescribing? To help train our sensibilities, we will be looking at 5 feasts during this season of Advent. (We have an extra one because Christmas is on Saturday and the elven magic will still be upon us that Sunday!)

This Sunday we start by looking at the whole idea that our future is a feast and considering how that idea is unique to Christianity and, as such, shapes both our present and our future. Don’t believe me? Join us on Sunday and we will talk about it!

Also, as of this morning we have completed our first 3 year cycle in the Soul Room. Which means if you started with us from the beginning, you have now prayed through the whole Bible! The new cycle will begin on Monday. If you haven’t done this before, this is a good time to join us as we pray scripture back to God in a community.

Blessings,

Jim

The King of Beast and Feast
I first heard the story a few years ago, of a woman who accidentally sent a text meant for her grandson to an absolute stranger instead. The amusing case of mistaken identity eventually led to his lighthearted inquiry as to whether the invitation still stood, and then to her seriously extending the hospitality. Thus began what is now a six-year tradition of Jamal Hinton joining Wanda Dench and her extended family for Thanksgiving dinner. In the midst of loneliness and mundane technological confusion, each had the presence of mind to recognize an opportunity to live a better story.

Many of the most memorable feasts in my own recollection began likewise, with the assembling of a motley crew through haphazard circumstances. It’s almost as if, despite my natural assumptions, the evening’s true guest list had been composed by a much Higher Head of the table. In fact, He is constantly beckoning us to consecrate our tables to His purposes, elevating our feasts to much greater heights with things like the godliness of our conversations, the generosity displayed in our guest lists, and yes, even our proper gratitude for the sensual glories of such meals. In these ways Jesus desires to position Himself over our tables and establish His own Kingdom’s work through our feasts.

This Sunday traditionally celebrates Christ the King, and it just happens to precede the biggest feast of our civic year, Thanksgiving. It would be so easy to leave these things disconnected, going along with the usual thoughtless flow of turkey and touchdowns and looking like all the rest of the world – generally thankful for legitimized gluttony. But what an amazing invitation we’ve been given to intentionally consider how we might surrender our scattered tables to the Messiah in such a way that they instead become a bounty of Great Thanksgivings (eucharists!) of Christ’s Kingdom – and a blessing to all who gather. I believe if we will recognize these opportunities and receive His Kingdom at our tables, we will actually see Heaven become local, through everyday activities made holy by His presence among His people. So, I hope you’ll accept this invitation to begin Thanksgiving week as an honored guest at the Lord’s Table.

- josh

Hospitality—The Embodiment of Everything!
For Teri and me, our pilgrimage in the Mississippi Delta was perhaps the most formative time of our lives. We moved there while in seminary to do an internship in a church and then stayed on to plant a church in another city in the Delta. It was the first time we had experienced real and radical hospitality. It was never really practiced at either of the churches we grew up in. Here, however, it was lavish to say the least.

From Yazoo City (where I served an internship for a year and a half) to Greenville (where I planted a church), folks literally took us by the hand and said, “Look!” Almost everything we now know about hospitality was found there—not so much taught as embodied in welcoming homes filled with the greatest food of our lives and people who genuinely acted like they wanted us there. In both places we showed up as outsiders—strangers to the customs, language, and cultural markers of a place. That is a lonely place to be. Granted, Teri and I had each other and a couple of kids, but that wasn’t enough. Who wants to be a stranger at every party or gathering? No, we all long for and were built for connection. That is, after all, what makes any place glorious—connection.

We brought that with us from the Delta when we came to Collierville. Basically, Teri and I thought, “If we can build community here like we have known it, that will be enough.” For the building of that would embody everything we value about the gospel. And, of course, it would all start with hospitality. Our home would be open; our stuff would be used and possibly broken; it would be exhausting and also the most glorious thing we could imagine.

This week we talk about the habit of hospitality and, yes, it is a habit. Without intentionally making room for people, you won’t. Unless it is a huge priority, you will never open your heart or your home in such a way that strangers become friends and know deep connection. Hospitality really does embody all of the values of St. Patrick. Were we to lose this habit of grace, all would be lost. But lest we think we have arrived, think again. Every time I look at the Bible, hospitality gets larger and larger.

So, I hope you will join us Sunday as we talk about it. Oh, and remember~~FALL BACK! Daylight Savings Time is ending, and we get back an hour of sleep. (If you don’t, however, at least you will be on time!) Hope to see you Sunday, live and in person or via livestream.

Blessings,

Jim

When Helping Helps
As a college student at the turn of the century, I was bombarded with opportunities for activism. The biggest push at the time was a cause known as the Invisible Children, in support of Ugandan communities ravaged by the despotic terror of Joseph Kony and his Lord’s Resistance Army. Students were encouraged to watch a film, raise awareness, and fundraise support for… something. I’ll bet it was very clear and I’d imagine their efforts were even somewhat successful, though decades later the man still evades capture. For my own part, I was genuinely moved by that story – and I believe I tried to connect as best as I could – but I wasn’t really in a place where I was looking to give my life away to that cause. I did feel pretty guilty about it though, as I was getting serious about my faith and the consensus was that everyone should do, well, whatever it was that was being championed at the moment.

I don’t know whether a general spirit of cynicism is replacing the optimistic activism I saw in that era of my life. Maybe worldwide concerted efforts didn’t produce the results we were all hoping for, and so now we know better. Or, maybe college students are still on a mission to save the world and my own guardedness is just a function of the age I am now versus the age I was then. What I do know is that often the way we engage in helping others can actually do harm to them and to us. This leads some folks to feel the same even about non-government organizations as they do about that other group of altruists. They say the most terrifying words in the English language are, “We’re from the government and we’re here to help.” And the poor’s posture in the meantime can be echoed by a recent blockbuster’s voiceover lament, “Who will our next oppressors be?”

Some of us have a pathological need to help people. Others have a pathological need not to get involved. But Jesus’ posture toward his neighbors wasn’t pathological at all. It was healthy humanity. His way looks a bit less like an international revolution and a bit more like intimate restorations, (though one certainly does lead to the other). So, this Sunday I hope we can all learn from his story about the Good Samaritan, how we might recover some healthy habits of helping.

Oh, and feel free to get a bit of practice in by volunteering to serve at our Fall Festival tomorrow! Sign up here

- josh