In his book He Came Down from Heaven, Charles Williams says, “In Christianity, the Cross is the Center and there is no circumference.” The Apostle Peter obviously believes that as he writes to the believers in Asia Minor. The center piece of his writing on Christian community, suffering, and our witness before the world starts with and ends with the saving life of Jesus on the cross. He actually believes that, as we work out the theology of the cross, it will give us the resources to live well, not only with people who are in our community but also with the world around us, even when it is hostile and causes suffering. This is coming from the very same apostle who, after Jesus tells his disciples he will die on a cross, says essentially, “Not on my watch.” And from the one who, when the authorities are arresting him, takes a swing at a guy’s head with a sword when they lay hands on Jesus.

Peter saw and witnessed the power of the saving life and death of Jesus. Peter couldn’t believe in a crucified Messiah at the time, but after the resurrection the cross becomes the starting and ending point to talk about what it means to be a believer living out the claims of Jesus in a hostile environment. So that is what is up for Sunday, and I hope you will join us, in person or online.

Blessings,

Jim

This Sunday is the culmination of something started before COVID—the adding of new folk to our family. We have a lot of folk who went through classes and were ready to make a profession of faith—then we all went into quarantine. So now, months later, we finally celebrate new family. What is better than seeing our family grow and thrive? We have people taking vows, both adults and children making professions of faith and being baptized, and also several little ones who are being baptized as infants. What a day this will be!

We live in crazy times on many fronts. People are stressed, tempers are frayed, social media will leave you in trauma. This is life in a fallen world, but perhaps it is being seen to a greater degree than normal. But Sunday is a reminder of what I just read in Jim Butcher’s book Battle Front. In the book, Harry Dresden is an urban wizard in Chicago and has just been taken for a ride by figures of ancient mythology and is finally sitting down to dinner with his adopted family, the Carpenters. As he muses on the trouble he has been through and the welcome sanctuary he knows with his adopted family, he says this: “There are a lot of ways to get ready for trouble; you get ready to fight, that is one of them, but it is even more important that you build something worth fighting for.” (Jim Butcher, Battle Ground) That is what St. Patrick is about—building a family. A large messy, diverse, frustrating, glorious family of people who become part of it only because of the grace of Jesus. That is worth fighting for!

We continue to talk about submission, as we did last week. What is curious is that, when seen in the light of the world these believers live in, Peter’s teaching is about how to subvert the oppressive kingdom they live in. And subvert it they did! I can’t wait to enact the gospel with you Sunday, either online or live and in-person.

Blessings and stay safe,

Jim

I don’t know about you but I don’t like authority. Or maybe I could be pious and say, “I don’t like unjust authority.” But that might be misleading. I just really don’t like authority very much. Apparently, mine is not an isolated problem. I have a five-year-old in my home who reminds me every day she doesn’t like it either. I also raised six other children who just wanted to do their own thing.

So we come out of the womb chaffing under the yoke of authority. Perhaps with maturity we come to acknowledge that authority is, as the Bible says, ordained by God for our good. Maybe, with more maturity, we can even acknowledge that as dependent and finite creatures we all serve some authority, either to our good or to our hurt. Maybe we even see that to follow Jesus is to be a free servant, that his rule and reign will lead to a new kind of freedom—the freedom to be as we were designed to be.

We are talking about submitting to authority and freedom on Sunday. The way the culture uses the word “freedom” and the way the Bible uses it are very different things. I suppose submitting to authority is viewed by Christians in different ways, as well. Anyway, one thing is clear: the life of God’s people together is the evangelistic event that goes on before the world and the arena where it is being played out is in the mundane—neighborhoods, work places and places we know and are known. Peter gives us the “how to” of resistance in our text for Sunday. Hope you will join us either in person or via live stream!

Blessings,

Jim

Unless you are old enough to remember the Spanish Flu, this is likely the first time in your life you’ve experienced purity laws as a primary social driver. What once seemed antiquated is now the modern way of life. In fact, these days the dangers of “uncleanness” (exposure to the coronavirus) influences most if not all of our social rhythms. These habits shape our perceptions to the point that when we see a movie filmed even last year, we recoil in ambivalent horror at the unmasked crowds in close proximity and all the casual touching that takes place. Our everyday interactions with people very often begin with shameful disclosures about where we’ve been and with whom. Then we brace for the potential rejection of a fortnight.

Far from being post-apocalyptic, this experience more closely mirrors that of Biblical people than we’ve ever seen before. Many of the people Jesus touched were under extreme edicts of social isolation due to their uncleanness. Even those who were considered healthy for the moment lived with the reality that in an instant they could be mercilessly banned from places of worship and work; shunned from friendships and family, due to any uncleanness, real or perceived. The mere rumor of disease might get you uninvited to a highly anticipated gathering. Thus, their children, like ours, grew up in a world of hygiene theatre. We must wash our hands, wear a mask, be seen doing it, and don’t risk possible contact with an infection cluster. After all, for those who live in Salem, it’s not unreasonable to be at least as afraid of witch hunts as you are of witches.

Purity laws, while inherently beneficial, have also always been a metaphor for spiritual innocence. It is a simple fact that filth in our environment can defile us in ways that separate us. Likewise, because of sin, these laws have also often opened the vulnerable to injuries greater than the protections they afford. Yet, as Jim shared with us last week, when the Lord said, “be holy as I am holy,” he actually meant the opposite of the sort of performative holiness that Jesus calls hypocrisy: the kind that castigates rather than protects. The way He is holy is that His own cleanness is so powerful, it makes the unclean clean again. He doesn’t avoid the disease; He draws near with the cleanness that cannot be defiled. His presence purifies places.

While we may not be able to overcome coronavirus with our touch, (and in fact I would strongly advise against trying!), we can be intentional about what our own presence does to the relational purity of a place. Even as we take necessary health precautions, we cannot allow the ordinary necessities of personal hygiene (or even concern for the vulnerable among us) to shift our perception of others to the extent that our very first social instinct is suspicion and defense. There is a viral uncleanness of heart that isolates our people. It is dehumanizing and is the very opposite of “loving life.” We can and must reach out and touch the leper – for starters, by making sure that when people are forced into physical isolation, we reach harder for relational connection with them. Why? Well, as we will see in the text this week, because this is the very thing that makes Heaven local.

- josh

If you hear it said of someone that they are “holy,” what do you think? If someone says to you, “So and so is so holy,” would you think that a compliment? Usually not. Holy and holiness are typically said with a bit of sarcasm and in the pejorative. It is not a high compliment, rather it likely implies that the person is a goody-goody-two-shoes, a little self-righteous, or sanctimonious. It also suggests they are a complete bore, have no fun, are rather off-putting, and are not the kind of person you want to be or imitate.

I know this to be true because it has been expressed to me like this too many times. And yet, the Bible says, “Be holy, as I am holy.” In my younger days, holy was what I avoided. I am personally built for a party; and holiness, at least the way I was saw it in my early years, was about being serious about Jesus, keeping endless lists, and avoiding lots of things that looked to be rather fun to me. But then I met a community of people that made me rethink the meaning of holiness. They de-constructed my view of holiness so that I could go back to the gospels and see Jesus again for the first time. And the funny thing was that, according to my earlier definition of holiness, he was the most un-holy person in the narrative! Here Jesus is, making wine to keep the party going, everyone is inviting him to dinner parties, and he doesn’t seem to live by a list that keeps him from associating with people who are obviously not holy. So, whatever I thought holiness was, Jesus exploded that idea!

This Sunday we are talking about holiness. And, may I say candidly, Peter is right—our communities of faith need holiness of life today like never before. In fact, I would say this: without it the gospel is no longer believable to the larger world around you. Here is what I mean. Later in the book Peter says we should always be ready to give an answer for the hope that is within us. Without holiness, you will never get a chance. People never will even ask that question.

So, join me as we talk what holiness is, the urgency of it, and the witness it provides. Also, we have a bunch of our communicants making professions of faith this Sunday! How glorious is that?! I mean, this is what we live for, is it not? To see and witness that the promise is to us and to our children!

Blessings,

Jim

Our reaction to suffering may be one of the greatest indicators of genuine faith in Jesus. It is easy to believe in Jesus when everything is copacetic. It is easy to be pious and spout Christianese and talk about how wonderful God is when he seems to be answering all your prayers. It is easy to talk about how good God is from a vantage point of safety and minimal risk. But what if your faith in Jesus does cause you to be ostracized? What if the brokenness of the world just sort of washes over you or your family members? What if suddenly God doesn’t seem to be answering your prayers the way it seems he should? It is not a question of if you will encounter sufferings but when.

We are in strange times and, while the COVID pandemic has been for many of us not a severe trial, it is still a test of faith because many of the things that have given our lives meaning have been taken away. How do we respond to this? Many folk who do analyses of culture and church suggest that about a third of those people who attended church before COVID won’t come back when this is all over. As I said, it is easy to use God-talk when everything is easy.

But what about when it is hard? What about finding joy in suffering and trials? All over the Bible this seems to be the norm, not the exception. Our text for Sunday is just one of many that teach the uniquely Christian view of suffering: that is, suffering is real and bad and, as such, to be grieved and lamented, but more—that we can actually find joy, meaning, and hope when the hard things of life wash over us and threaten everything we love.

There is a strange statement in the text, that says “angels long to look into these things.” I would also suggest that it is not just angels watching, but also our neighbors and friends. What do they see? Hope and joy—something remarkable—or just the cultural norm of despair and anger. On Sunday, we will talk about it.

Hope to see you Sunday, live and in-person or via livestream. Also, we have new members joining! We have a host of people joining in the next month, folk who were all set to join when COVID hit. I am so thankful to be receiving new members again!

Blessings,

Jim

When I was growing up years ago in Frayser and a wee lad in Denver Elementary, we would start the day with prayer. Then we would stand and say the Pledge of Allegiance and recite the Lord’s Prayer. I also learned, “My County tis of Thee” in that public school. Billy Graham crusades were televised, and there were “revival meetings” as we contemplated methods of reaching the lost. (I am showing my age!) We don’t live in that place anymore. We are in an increasingly secular age and the assumptions of the Bible are increasingly pushed to the margins. Christian morality in my youth didn’t look much different that the civic morality around me. That is totally different now as well. It is beyond the scope of this telling to explore how all that happened, but what is within the scope of this telling, and what we will seek to do in this new series on I Peter, is to listen to what God’s Word says to believers living at the margins of society, where their beliefs are seen as peculiar or, worse, held in open contempt.

We are going to be looking at the book of I Peter this fall, and we are calling it, “The Art of Neighboring.” Peter writes his book to a group of believers in various churches in a region of the Roman Empire where they find themselves as outsiders to the larger culture. And, interestingly, he encourages them to abound and thrive! He can do this because here is the real truth: While the larger culture may hold the church and Jesus in contempt or indifference, the place we can always thrive is where we “know and are known,” where our flesh abides in our neighborhoods and spheres of influence. Places where we know the people who hurt, have lost hope, or are experiencing addictions, divorce, financial burdens, loss of identity and loneliness.

I Peter shows us how to thrive at the margins and to be hope to the hopeless, love the unlovely, and befriend the lonely. It used to be we reached people through crusades and tracts­, that day is over. But the gospel is not over. It is as gracious and hopeful as ever, and the people who find their identity in Jesus are the living witness to that hope. I can’t wait to dig into this. Hope to see you Sunday via live stream or here in person!

Blessings,

Jim

I got my first computer in 1989. I had been a pastor for a couple of years and it was a novelty. In seminary, there were just a few people (more the nerd-types) that had them, but they were rare. I still remember it—a Leading Edge that had about 32K of memory and a huge monitor that was black with green text. Going from a typewriter to this was like being born again. I mean, you could just backspace and correct your mistakes! What could be better?! Then came dial-up internet and, man, we were cooking. The world was at our fingertips, the digital age was on, and I was getting in as fast as I could! Articles were being written as early as the sixties about how automation and technology would liberate us from working forty to fifty hours a week! Then, when the computer became a necessity, things changed at an exponential pace.

I have lived long enough to wonder, “What happened?” “Where is all the free time we were promised?” “Where is the liberation we anticipated and the endless leisure we thought we would enjoy?” I talk to few people that actually say, “I used to be so busy but all this technology has given me so much more time with my family and hobbies.” In fact, I hear the exact opposite… “I am always at work now.” “I rarely have time when I just unplug.” “Even on vacation, I have my phone with me, dreading a call from the office and someone needing me.” What happened on the road to Technological Utopia? Here is what happened…we happened! We can’t unplug! We can’t cease! We can’t “hallow” time for doing nothing productive. We sold our birthright for a mess of pottage.

God, however, rested! The creation account speaks of design. It is the way things are supposed to be, the way the world works, and the way image bearers of God are built to work. In other words, built into the bones of the world and into our bones is this need for Sabbath. We can’t finish our series on “Practicing the King’s Economy” without talking about the God who made us for a rhythm of both work and rest, productivity and non-productivity. On Sunday I hope we will see just how “deforming” our practices are that neglect rest and celebration. Because at the end of the day, Sabbath is about delight—gut-wrenching joy! That, or something like that, is what we will talk about Sunday. Hope to see you there, in person or via live-stream.

Blessings,

Jim

When my children were tiny, I had the habit of referring to them as my “critters.” Occasionally, someone would overhear and side-eye me with horrified judgment. I suppose this is because, in our neck of the woods, the word “critter” is often interchangeable with “varmint.” But, I would proudly point out, “critter” is just a lazy variation on the word “creature.” And that they are: creatures of our God and King, born of the love between a man and wife, and made in our “spittin’ image” (itself a lazy way of saying ‘Spirit-and-image.’) I just really like thinking of my kids in Edenic terms.

In much the same way, I also like to romanticize the vision of my wife as she takes her walks in the garden she tends in the cool of the day, little bunnies tumbling at her feet. Arguably, these critters fall more on the varmint side of the Creation spectrum, yet their delight in our own Eden’s version of Mother Eve is apparent. Her rabbits do these things called zooming, binkying, and flopping, all of which, I’m told, are indicators of the peace and pleasure such creatures find as they dwell in the shadow of their Mistress. In those moments, she’s just the spittin’ image of our Maker.

This week, as we turn our study on Practicing the King’s Economy toward the area of Creation Stewardship, I have to confess I can think of a lot of reasons to avoid the conversation altogether. Much of this debate (like everything else these days) is held in over-politicized arenas using hyper-charged rhetoric. It’s hard to talk about any of it without unwillingly and unwittingly getting lumped into one camp or another. Let me assure you that if you ever hear me making purely political statements, then I have been possessed by aliens. And yet this is a discussion about which the Bible has much to say, from page one to weights and measures. So, I want to encourage us to intentionally mute whatever a particular political party might have to say on the topic and instead immerse our imaginations in the language and lavish imagery of Scripture, letting it shape our hearts to love creation the way the Creator created us to.

- josh

The ghost of Jacob Marley tells Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, “Business!... Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!” Was Charles Dickens serious? Are the poor our business? Are we really expected to be with them, care for them, and work to see that they have something to bring to our gathered and scattered tables? Good questions…and timely.

As we ponder the kingdom that Jesus brought in his incarnation, death, burial, and resurrection—what does it mean for it to break into time and space? Is there a correlation between our care of the poor and what Jesus is doing in space/time history? Heavy questions...and right questions to ask. This Sunday, as we ponder “The King’s Economy”, we will look at the Bible to see how God has addressed these questions, not only with his people in ancient Israel, but even today. We are all poor and, just as Jesus was about bringing spiritual healing to our sin-sick souls, he was about bringing his Kingdom to bear…“far as the curse is found.”

Blessings,

Jim