Well friends, we’re all one week into the national emergency due to the COVID-19 virus. How y’all doing? I’m sure the answers are all over the board. And our answers say much about us — things like where we work, what personality type we have, where we gather our information. But most importantly, this is a great time to find out what we truly value. Testing has a way of making some things clear to us that we can’t see when life is easy, when nothing is asked of us. And what is testing but a time of being asked for things? Let’s dig in this week and see how Jesus handles this, and what it has to teach us, and let’s see why his answers let the crowds utterly amazed.
The very moment John Ray began to speak words of wisdom, and words about forgiveness, I felt the lump in my throat like an unwanted house guest that won’t quit knocking at the front door. Forgiveness. Forgiveness. It even has a pleasant ring just typing it. But it’s hard to think about. Have you ever noticed that there will be weeks in a row where you have a specific problem, and that very Sunday John will talk about it? Because it’s happened to me more than one time. This ti
Thirty-five minutes into a sermon that was running a touch too long, it happened — unplanned and unprepared for. I turned to welcome people to the communion table, inviting them to bring their faith. Not the faith they thought they should have, or wish they had, or expect to have, but the faith they had at that moment. As I spoke, my voice started to crack. “Look at the response to your faith,” I choked out. “See the love that is given to us all, regardless.” I managed to mak
September 7, 2016: Yesterday I began a nearly-vertical ascent on my mountain bike toward the famous 401 Trail outside Crested Butte. We parked the 4X4 at 8,500 feet; from there, the road climbed ever higher. Within minutes I was gasping, and at every turn of the track there was only more incline ahead. Jeeps and ATVs blew by us, kicking up dust to be sucked into my struggling lungs. I was already in my lowest possible gears, barely staying upright. The bone-dry air quickly ev
When I was 12, our family relocated to a rural, small southern community. Previously we were a northeastern family traveling in the military. The relocation followed difficult and life-altering changes, and this was our new reality. Our new church congregation didn’t know how to relate to me, nor did I to them. I felt isolated for a time. Then one Sunday morning a dear lady of the church, Aunt Mert, brought a gift to me. It was a hand-knitted purse just for me! She graciously