Presby-Musings

The countdown begins. Macy's parade is over, and Thanksgiving leftovers have been eaten. Can I get a witness on some turkey sandwiches, Church? Black Friday is over (thanks be to God). Cyber Monday is coming, though. Giving Tuesday, Back to the Store Wednesday, and Let's Hit Those Amazon Deals Thursday are coming. There will undoubtedly be a host of other special shopping days. Some of us are excited, so we ask, "Why don't we just get on with it? Let's go already!" The Christmas decorations have been up in the stores for a month already, so it stands to reason that we should move right along and get to the heart of the season. More than a few of us probably wish the whole thing was over. Perhaps it's too much—all the shopping, busyness, street traffic, commercials, email advertising, expenses, and the like. And for those of us who do the church-y thing, we also ask, "What's with all of this Advent?  What is Advent?  Why do we celebrate Advent?  I

In our fast-paced world, where notifications ping constantly and to-do lists seem endless, we often forget to pause and appreciate the incredible things to be grateful for in the world surrounding us.  Gratitude isn't just a fleeting "thank you" or a polite social custom – it's a transformative force that can fundamentally reshape how we experience life. Think about the last time you watched a sunrise, felt the warmth of a loved one's embrace, or enjoyed a simple meal. These moments, often overlooked in our rush through life, are precious gifts that deserve our attention and appreciation.  Gratitude opens our eyes to the abundance already in our lives rather than keeping us focused on what we lack.  Living in abundance rather than scarcity is a practice that begins and ends with gratitude.   Eckhart Tolle once wrote: “Acknowledging the good that you already have in your life is the foundation for all abundance.” This truly resonates with me.  Without that foundati

We live in uncertain times, friends.  I don't have to tell you that, but I will.   I started dipping my toe back into the murky waters of my news feed from the interwebs and then had to snatch it back because it sucked.  I often lose hope when I read the news about the events in our country and the world.  Sometimes, it's better just to remain blissfully and intentionally unaware.  But even then, you can feel the anxiety of the energy around you.  It's inescapable.   And this is why we need hope right now.   In times of uncertainty, hope is an anchor for the human spirit, tethering us to possibility when the storms of life threaten to sweep us away. Hope isn't merely optimism—it's a profound force that helps us navigate our darkest moments, illuminating paths forward when all seems lost. Think about how hope manifests in nature: a single seedling pushing through concrete, defying impossible odds. Or a forest regenerating after devastation, each new shoot reaching to

I do my best not to dwell on the past, but sometimes, I think about the many mistakes I've made, the roads I should have taken, and the decisions I should have made.  It's not a productive exercise, but it's hard not to get down on yourself when you are going through challenging seasons in life.   There are moments in life when we feel the weight of our imperfections, mistakes, and regrets pressing down upon us like a heavy fog.  We judge ourselves harshly, holding onto past failures as if they define who we are. Yet, grace appears like the first ray of dawn in these darkest moments, offering us a path back to wholeness. Grace is the gentle rain that falls on parched earth, the unexpected kindness that catches us off guard, the second chance we didn't think we deserved. It's the force that transforms our wounds into wisdom and our failures into stepping stones toward growth.  As author Anne Lamott beautifully observes, "Grace meets us where we are but does not

Last night, I saw Iron Maiden, one of my favorite bands.  I had a ticket for the "pit," meaning I was standing in a packed crowd not too far from the stage.  The crowd was hot and sweaty, but I forgot all about my discomfort when the band hit the stage.  At one point, I looked around me at a nearly sold-out arena full of people singing along to familiar songs, and I was once again struck by how powerful it is to be part of something bigger than you.   The first time I saw Iron Maiden was thirty-seven years ago.  Last night, I was wearing a replica concert shirt from that show in Lakeland, FL (the original was sold at a garage sale years ago).  A teenage kid about my age back then saw what I was wearing and said, "Cool shirt, man."   I felt even more at home in the crowd, realizing that someone who wasn't even born when I went to my first Maiden show recognized and honored my commitment as a fan.      In our fast-paced world, where individualism often seems to re

  Today's sermon is about eschatology, a loaded theological term that essentially means studying the end times.   Lots of people think the world is going to end soon.   As long as I can remember, I have heard evangelical Christians talk about the end of the world with no small amount of glee.  They read books by people who claim to be prophecy experts, and who are constantly looking for signs that will confirm their theories.  This is not new, but with the advent of the Internet and social media, it's reached new levels of foolishness.   For the past four years, conservative Christians proclaimed the end of the world was imminent until the election, and now they at least feel like the world got a reprieve for at least four more years.   Now it's the progressive's turn.   This kind of talk about the end of the world is tied to horrible theology and extraordinarily awful interpretations of Scripture.   Every change in the world is a potential sign.  Leper Messians are see

In our fast-paced world, where ideas often seem to hold more value than experience, it is critical to remember that faith is not merely a concept or a set of beliefs; it is meant to be lived, felt, and shared.  Our lived experiences shape our understanding of faith, making it a dynamic and authentic journey deeply intertwined with our daily lives. As we navigate through life, we often encounter challenges, joys, and sorrows, all of which contribute to the richness of our faith. The Bible reminds us of this truth in James 2:26, which states, “For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead.”   This simple statement emphasizes that true faith manifests itself through action. It is not enough to hold beliefs in our hearts; we must actively express them through our lives. Our experiences, good or bad, are the fertile ground from which our faith can grow and flourish.\ The late author and theologian Rachel Held Evans profoundly articulated this idea when

In a world where we often seek to classify and categorize everything around us, it’s easy to project our limited understanding onto the concept of God.  We craft belief systems, establish doctrines, and erect metaphorical temples to contain the divine essence. Yet, as we do this, we risk reducing something infinite into something finite, confining God within the walls of our imagination. C.S. Lewis, renowned author and theologian, captures this sentiment beautifully when he writes about God being an iconoclast, “the one who tears down the temples we have built.”  An iconoclast typically breaks away from tradition, particularly in artistic or religious contexts; they challenge conventional wisdom and destroy established beliefs. Like the iconoclast, God does not conform to the structures we erect around God. Instead, God challenges and dismantles them, ultimately revealing the far greater reality of His nature beyond our limited frameworks. Imagine a child trying to describe the ocean&#

  You get a feeling when you know that the challenge you have been facing may have gotten the better of you.  This may sound strange, but it's a feeling of resignation and relief.   The resignation comes when you know that you can't win and that all of your striving up to that point, though admirable, was not enough to overcome the moment's challenge.   You might find the courage and the strength to continue the struggle, but you know it's all but over.  It's time to retreat to your corner, head back to the locker room, lick your wounds, or whatever metaphor works for you.   And that's when the relief washes over you.   The relief is your mind's way of telling you that whatever futility you may have felt has served a purpose somehow.  You don't have to keep fighting.  You can surrender and let go of whatever has kept you in the fray. You can finally rest.    But the relief can also help us another way that can get lost if we resort to focusing on the mom

I was perusing my Instagram social media feed this morning when I saw something that made me laugh out loud, which isn't easy.   Instagram is the only social media platform I regularly use. My feed is remarkably free from awful political posts, horrible negativity, and people who just enjoy ruining everyone else's day.   Clearly, I curated it well.   It is filled with dark humor, however, which is right up my alley.  The post that made me laugh out loud was part of a series of "Demotivational Messages."  The message started with one of those standard motivational messages:  "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." You've probably seen that message tastefully painted on a sign you can hang in your house—the kind you find in a charming little shop in a little town you stopped at on your way to a winery or something.  Then the message went on to say:  "Just like the first step you take before falling into a ditch."  You might n

As we celebrate Veterans Day today, it is vital to reflect on the sacrifices made by countless men and women who have worn the uniform of our nation's military.  This day is not just a marker on our calendars – it is a profound reminder of the bravery and selflessness exhibited by those who have fought to protect our freedoms and uphold the values we cherish as a nation.  We owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to our veterans, whose commitment to serving our country has shaped our lives in ways that often go unnoticed. Their dedication is a testament to the love of country that runs deep within their hearts, pushing them to make sacrifices that most of us could never fathom.  We must take this opportunity to honor their contributions through words, our actions, and our commitment to ensuring their legacy is remembered and celebrated every day of the year. Serving in the military represents a profound choice that demands resilience, courage, and an unwavering commitment to something

It's over... The Election. Is. Over. [Now breathe deeply] I've issued a personal moratorium on news, news-related media, and news items.  I have no desire to hear how or why President Trump won re-election. I have no desire to hear how or why Kamala Harris failed to get elected. I am done.  I've reached my information quota, and I'm sick to death of listening to politicians posture, grandstand, and evoke the most incredible hyperbole when saying virtually nothing and promising to singlehandedly save America. Before the election, I gave up monitoring and posting on social media hardly at all because I grew weary of the negativity from both liberals and conservatives and the way it made me want to fight, argue, and act out of meanness. I've decided to keep that particular moratorium in place for the foreseeable future.   I seriously don't need the negativity, and I don't need any more reminders that our nation is divided—some might say hopelessly so. I have Ch

I used to draw and paint.  When I was a kid, someone told my mother I had promised, so she spent money so our family wouldn't have to get me oil painting lessons and then tutoring with a retired art teacher who specialized in pencils. I took lessons through middle school and into high school before I finally convinced my mom to give them up.   I realized that to be a truly great artist, I would have to work hard at it. Talent will only get you so far if you are a prodigy, and I was no prodigy.   I wanted to play sports, hang with my friends, and have a girlfriend, so I set aside my paints and pencils and never really picked them up again.   After my mom passed away, I went through some of her belongings, trying to determine what to keep, what to store, and what to let go of. I had to smile when I found some of my drawings and a painting that was kept.  I thought back to those lessons that she couldn't afford.   She took some of them with me so I wouldn't feel strange as the