St. Patrick Presbyterian Church, Epc

We were doing Advent with Addy at breakfast this morning. The candle was lit and the Advent tree, which has a door for each day in Advent, was opened. Each day has a special note in it about whatever special thing is going on, which for this day was the Christmas Parade. It also has a piece of chocolate, but on this special day there were two and that brought a moment of sadness because my granddaughter Penelope, who was supposed to be with us, had had to cancel because she came down with the flu. We were already starting behind the baseline, it seemed. Until I asked the question about what we celebrated during Advent: “So, Addy, why do we celebrate Advent?” Nothing. Me, trying to get something going, "Are we celebrating Santa Claus?” Addy emphatically denied that all this was about Santa, so I said, “What then?” She finally said, “Jesus being a baby.” I said, “What is so special about that—babies are born all the time.” She thought a minute and then said, “Well, it is that Jesus is all mixed up with God or s

The Scandal of AdventAdvent is here again and I am so thankful. The church looks like a vision; it is never more beautiful than when we celebrate the Incarnation. There is no better argument that we are more than merely thinking creatures than a church festooned and gilded to the nines. We want more than the ordinary when we are making our way towards something as momentous, history-altering, and life-changing as the Incarnation. We want the ordinary taken to another plane of beauty.  This Advent Season we are contemplating, It’s a Wonderful Strife. Yes, you saw that correctly and, yes again, it is a riff on Frank Capra’s classic Christmas movie, It’s a Wonderful Life. If you think about it, most of the story of Jesus coming into the world is filled with strife. (In fact, George Bailey’s life was, as well!) Nothing about it looks like a Hallmark Christmas movie. Seriously, an unwed mother, a fiancé who is going to end the engagement privately to hide the shame, mangers for a king, animals, and ne’er-do-wells

I still chuckle to myself when I think about a prank we once pulled on Jim several years back. We were interviewing candidates for our open worship pastor position and had decided to bring Will Weir in for an interview. Just before the meeting, I pulled the Reverend aside and told him we didn’t know how to break this news to him, but Mr. Weir was a committed vegan. No meat, eggs, or dairy. I saw the wheels turning as our chef-in-chief began to reckon with this devastating news. How could such a person thrive in our foodie culture? What would have to change in order to accommodate this “alternative lifestyle”? Finally, a look of pious resolution washed over his face, and he responded by reminding us (and himself, no doubt), that around here, Grace Is Everything. But I will never forget his look of relief when we burst out laughing and told him the truth.  The fact is, food has very practical implications for fellowship. With Thanksgiving coming up, I asked our staff to share about their ideal family holiday fe

View this email in your browserInstruments in the Redeemer’s Hands In 2016, the Memphis Grizzles made the playoffs. At the time the Grizzles had a lot of injuries and would be a massive underdog against the San Antonio Spurs. This was back in the day when the Spurs still had Tony Parker and Tim Duncan. Because of injuries, the Grizzlies were starting guys I hardly remembered as I looked back to fact check this story—Jordan Famar and Chris Anderson, remember him? Every part of his body covered with tattoos and a multi-colored mohawk? He was also nicknamed, “The Bird man.” They promptly lost the first two games by a total of 58 points. Matt Barnes summed up the situation best when, in his frustration, he said this, “We’re coming to a gunfight with spoons.”  In basketball, that is never a good situation to be in; however, we see a totally different reality in the gospel of the Kingdom. In our passage this week, God highlights that this is the situation all his disciples find themselves in. It is sort of like thi

Damascus RoadSometimes you don’t need a unique sermon title, the very episode you are dealing with speaks for itself. That is certainly true Sunday when we see the book of Acts shift into a whole new gear. The conversion of Saul of Tarsus is like landing a whale. It is so significant, it is mentioned two more times in the book of Acts, and we get a few more details along the way. It is so significant that Paul will take center stage and become the main character in Jesus’ story. Admittedly, it has been hard to shift gears this week to ponder God’s work in redemptive history when the death of our dear friend Barbara Moore has been at the forefront of our hearts and minds. This week I have oscillated between tears, laughter, and wonder as I remember Barbara over the past 23 years I have known her and her family. Rarely have I see anyone deal with so much and yet with so much grace. She truly left the world a better place, as do all when love is operative because, “loves leaves a mark.” The funeral will be past

God it seems has a special regard for the outcast. Think sojourners and aliens in the Old Testament. Think tax collectors in Jesus' day and now we come to the book of Acts, post resurrection, what will we make of them now? The gospel is exploding from Jerusalem and now to a people group outcast from the Jewish people—the Samaritans, but wha about individual outcast? People who just don’t fit into society and who find themselves through the exploitation of other people totally alone. Does the gospel have power to heal that?In one of the most famous passages in the book of Acts, Philip, leaves a revival in Samaria and makes his way to Africa. there he mets perhaps the most outcast person in that society, other than a leper—a eunuch. The eunuch has title and power, as he is the treasure to the queen. But that is only his position, his identity is he is a eunuch. In those days they would take young boys and castrat them, so they could work in the royal court without distraction. Often they are found as servants

Last summer, our youth group’s middle school trip was cancelled just days before departure, due to a Covid outbreak among the camp staff. An all-too-familiar occurrence in those days. But, having been by then thoroughly acclimated to “the art of the pivot,” we scrambled and put together a last-minute alternative trip to the Ozarks. Among the events we had planned was a jaunt to the historic downtown theatre to see “Hot Springs’ #1 Attraction: The Maxwell Blade Magic Show.” This zany performance turned out to be equal parts David Copperfield-esque illusions, so-bad-they’re-great “dad jokes,” and an extended selection of… Elton John impersonations? It was bizarre to say the least, but the kids absolutely loved it. I still have a lot of questions about that man’s personal life. The next day we had planned to go to Magic Springs Amusement Park as our grand finale, but alas, we received news of another Covid exposure and had to shut it down early. Everyone was devastated, of course. As we look back on the ill-fat

I don’t know if you have ever encountered pigweed, but it is as awful as it sounds. When I moved out in the country, I brought in truckloads of composted manure from around here. What I wasn’t expecting was all the foreign weeds I would bring in. Pigweed was the worst: it is tough, spreads quickly, and –to make matters worse – it has stickers, so don’t even think about grabbing it and pulling it out with your hands. Besides that, it has roots that go deep. No problem, I thought. I got out my sprayer and carefully went to work on it with Roundup, a herbicide that will kill anything. Well, anything but pigweed. How could that be? Roundup was a farmer’s, and also a gardener’s, dream. Finally, one spray to kill them all. But a funny thing happened along the way from when Roundup first went on the market – pigweed became resistant! Other weeds have done so as well, I hear. Such is the nature of weeds. They seem to find a way to survive. This week we look at the unstoppable nature of the gospel. The early church in

Twenty years ago, a book by Malcom Gladwell called The Tipping Point was all the rage. In it, he is talking about how big change happens. He says there eventually comes a time when things come to a head and something happens that pushes status quo over the edge. “The tipping point is that magic moment when an idea, trend, or social behavior crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads like wildfire.” (Malcolm Gladwell, The Tipping Point) We see the tipping point this week in Acts 7. How is the gospel going to reach beyond Jerusalem? How is the gospel going to go to Samaria? How is the gospel going to go to the ends of the world? A couple of things happen that bring us to the tipping point. 1) Stephen’s remarks before his accusers about the temple, which is in Jerusalem, being fulfilled in Jesus; and 2) A young zealot named Paul being present when Stephen is attacked by a mob. This Sunday, we look at the longest narrative section by any individual in the book of Acts. Stephen basically stands before a hostile crow

No matter how we try to idealize the church, it is still flawed to the core, an imperfect image of the life and ministry of our Savior. And yet, for some reason, God has chosen to spread his glory to the ends of the earth through local communities who faultily and faithfully seek to be his presence in the world. The book of Acts is compelling as we see the birth pangs of the new community Jesus left on earth. Remember, in Acts we are seeing the genesis of a movement that will subvert the very empire that seeks to eradicate it. Beset by troubles from the outside and also within, the church we see in Acts 6 is hit by yet another attack that seeks to derail it from its mission to be a light to the world—mission drift, I suppose is the term we would use today. The Apostles see a problem that, even given their super-sized gifting, they can’t solve on their own. This week we look at a church fully alive—the ministry is spreading, even the least likely persons for conversion are believing the gospel, and yet folk a

A friend of mine sent me an article from GQ magazine this week, entitled “Inside the World of Leg-Lengthening.” Apparently, this is a recent phenomenon among wealthy men who are willing to have their femurs broken and gradually extended by titanium implants in order to gain three to six inches of height. The friend who sent the article is about my stature and neither of us will ever be able to afford it, so I didn’t take it as a slight. He knew I’d be as fascinated as he is by the psychology of the thing. You see, each patient interviewed plainly admitted that he was driven to these extreme cosmetic measures by jealousy. To be clear, these men were not actually jealous of the height of other men, per se, but of the advantages that seem to correlate with that higher elevation. Believe me, if any of these men thought they could get those benefits without the height, not one of them would have bothered with the procedure. If we’re willing to listen carefully, what and whom we’re jealous of can actually tell us

I have been back in the mundane for a couple of weeks now and about to find my sea legs. So, after a week of personal privilege, we are back to our fall study in the book of Acts. This week we come to the familiar story of Ananias and Sapphira. Remember them? They are the ones that are struck dead for what the text calls, “lying to God.” Essentially what happened was some members in this first community of believers saw something so profound and glorious that they wanted to counterfeit it. One thing I know is that you only counterfeit that which is glorious! For instance, you don’t counterfeit what is throwaway, like paper plates; you counterfeit that which you see as glorious—weighty, priceless, or beautiful. C. S. Lewis also says “glorious” means something like fame, approval or a good report. Ananias and Sapphira saw the overwhelming generosity that the gospel produced and tried to steal it. They wanted credit without the cross. They wanted the honor or acclaim that should have gone to God.

There and Back Again: Sabbatical Reflections You may recognize the title as something I borrowed from Bilbo. It was the working title of what would later be called, The Hobbit. Bilbo’s journey was an adventure; mine was a sabbatical journey, though it was not without adventure. Adventure because I got lost in the Red River Gorge, met a world-famous artist in the marshes of South Carolina, fly-fished with (to my mind) “the world’s most interesting man” on the Rogue River, saw my wife chase a black bear, and took a seven iron to a water moccasin that was about to strike Addy. It was an adventure because I dipped my feet in the Atlantic Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Pacific Ocean. I traveled to beaches and mountains, all sharing a sameness but each with its own unique terroir. I experienced why Calvin called the works of God in creation, “a theater of God’s glory”. My time away was not all fun and games, though. With time and space, I was able do something I have longed to do, which w

Sing, Muse, the rage of Achilles,Black and murderous, that cost the GreeksIncalculable pain, pitched countless soulsOf heroes into Hades' dark,And left their bodies to rot as feastsFor dogs and birds, as Zeus' will was done.- Homer, The Illiad, Book I: 1-6 So begins the founding work of the western canon of literature. We tend to think of the Illiad (if at all!) as a story about the downfall of the Trojan civilization, or, maybe a moral cautionary tale about the consequences of unbridled romantic ambitions toward a woman already spoken for. But Homer’s Illiad begins, in media res, with a man who has lost control. Here is the actual core to the epic: the hero Achilles. In search of immortal glory, the warrior has lost his world’s most cherished possession – his friend Patroclus ­– and the demigodly power he wields finds a new focus in apocalyptic revenge. His violent fury is what moves the action of the West’s first great epic to its dramatic conclusion and the eventual founding of the Roman empire. All

My aunt Jody was a sign maker when I was a child. One of her biggest clients was the FedEx St. Jude Classic, where once a year she had the honor of participating in a truly iconic piece of signage. Fans will know that at “our” tournament, in place of the traditional “quiet please” signs, Southwind opts for a more culturally appropriate, “hush y’all.” It’s a local point of privilege that I hope we never retire. Yet, as bespoke as our vanity signs may be, the message is still the same as all the others: "pay attention, something big is near." I would imagine that if you compared the real estate dedicated to signs pointing travelers to Disney World to the square inches the Magical Place actually covers, there would be no contest. I’d also wager no one actually in Disney has ever spent time reminiscing about the signs that got them there. Why is it then that we are so often a people so obsessed with signs and wonders? Why did I as a younger man long with Habakkuk to see signs and wonders renewed in my own day?Fou

This week I got to sit down with the first class of St. Patrick's Residency Program. This has been a dream of ours ever since Jim and I sat in a workshop on developing next generation leaders at the General Assembly meetings in Sacramento over five years ago. Our original goal was to launch in 2020, but we all know that was the year dreams went to die. And yet, we are a resurrection people! So here we are, welcoming in three young disciples to learn the ways of disciple-making at St. Patrick. People have categories for a medical residency, but what is a ministry residency? When I was with the residents this week, we talked about how Jesus called his first disciples in John 1. He asked them what they wanted (because we are, after all, what we love), and they responded by asking him, "where are you staying?" A more prescient question than they knew, since they were, after all, addressing the One who only verses earlier was introduced as the Word who dwells among us, full of grace and truth. After living and wor

Cut to the HeartAt sixteen, I was just beginning to "own" my faith, as well as some pretty lofty musical aspirations. This meant that neither my parents’ rural Cumberland Presbyterian church nor my extended family’s suburban Southern Baptist church were quite… dynamic enough for my tastes. Providentially, late 1990’s charismatic youth groups were quite successful in recruiting from the billowing fountain of young wannabe rock-stars in Cordova. I found myself caught in the flow of that movement; I absolutely loved the spinning, strobing lights (as well as permanent hearing damage) we were experiencing together. We were all just sloshing around like blissful drops in the youth group emocean. But it didn’t take long for me to discover that there were some other differences in the church that didn’t feel quite so inviting to me. It all centered on the way they spoke about the Holy Spirit. In their midst, the gifts of the Spirit were almost exclusively those performed and platformed with a high level of enthusias

“Faith is not the clinging to a shrine but an endless pilgrimage of the heart.” ― Abraham Joshua Heschel “This hill, though high, I covet to ascend; The difficulty will not me offend. For I perceive the way to life lies here. Come, pluck up, heart; let's neither faint nor fear. Better, though difficult, the right way to go, Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.” ― John Bunyan, The Pilgrim's Progress I have found out that there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.” — Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer Abroad ---------------------------------------------------- Well, we’ve come to the end of our Messiah’s Mixtape Series. While I love starting a new thing, I’m learning not to rush on to the next event without reflecting carefully on what’s passed. Mostly Allie has taught me this discipline, which has an element of healthy grieving to it. Maybe that’s why we don’t stop to process our experiences often enough: because it feels too much like a death. But I can’t

The Way Up Is DownI got a text today from a friend who’s sitting on a beach finishing reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time (oh, to be in his sandals!). He said it had been well over a decade since he’d watched The Return of the King and he had totally forgotten one of its biggest twists. The Witch-King of Angmar, Lord of the Nazgûl, who could “never be hindered by a man” was very much hindered by… a young woman, and a hobbit (half a man, some would say). As surprising and rewarding as that little verbal loophole is to the new (or forgetful) reader, imagine the shock to readers in the decades before women were commonly seen in battle at all! Yet by far the most surprised of creatures was that vile Ringwraith. He never saw it coming, and wouldn’t have believed it if you told him. Those who operate according to the ways and powers of this world cannot conceive of the economy of God. How can it be that the weak could so shame the strong? He was like the Mount of Bashan in Psalm 68 (our text again this