In 2020, we didn’t travel much. After months mostly at home, one day I looked in the mirror and asked myself, “Why am I shaving every day?” That’s when I decided to grow my pandemic beard.

A few months later, I had dinner with friends. One of them wore a beard. He brought me a gift. It was a bottle of beard oil. I had never heard of that. Having a beard was new to me. Then he began to explain the culture I had just joined: beard festivals, beard groups, even beard etiquette. My understanding of beards and the people who wore them grew that night.

When we’re new at something, we often need guidance. Mentors and guides help us navigate unfamiliar territory. Faith is no different.

In Luke 14, Jesus tells the parable of the great dinner. A rich man planned a feast and sent invitations to his peers. For various, almost trivial reasons, they declined. In that culture, refusing an invitation like this was a serious insult. Angered, the man instructed his servants to invite others. People who normally wouldn’t be invited: the outcasts, the poor, the socially overlooked.

It’s easy to imagine that these new invitees didn’t know how to respond. What was expected of them? How could they offer anything in return? Yet they accepted. One subtle detail of the story stands out to me. When the man first becomes angry, he tells his servant to go find new guests. The servant responds, “Sir, what you ordered has been done.”

It's important to remember the infidelity of God's people in the Bible. God made covenant with them, but time and again they turned away from their part in that union. Repeatedly! It makes you wonder what we'd have left in the Bible if they didn't.

Time and time again, the people chose their way of living life over God's wisdom. Scripture also tells of the consequences of those choices. You get what you get when you turn from God. There's no blaming God for letting us face the consequences of our choices. That's on us.

And yet, time and time again God pursues God's beloved. In Jeremiah 3, for example, the Lord describes a vision of an adulterous people. They have taken "many lovers." Still, God says, "Return." To make sure they understood God knew exactly who they were, God says, "Return, faithless Israel."

Faithless. Stubborn. Greedy. Prideful. Spiteful. Petty. Arrogant.

What qualifier might be in front of your name?

No matter what it is or how accurately it describes you, the invitation from God remains the same: Return.

Return to God because the Lord isn't waiting for you to clean up yourself first. So, you don't have to either. God's love isn't reactive. Genuine love always creates deeper love. So, God loves you where you are in whatever condition you're in and makes you new. And if you have to return again tomorrow, God will make you new again.

I recently began a new educational journey. It's something I’ve been considering for a while but only now had the chance to pursue. Several people have asked me how it’s going. Well, I'll answer that by asking you: Have you ever heard of imposter syndrome?

Reading the thoughtful reflections my colleagues are already sharing, I sometimes feel like I’m behind. Maybe even like I don’t really belong.

Do you know that feeling? Many of us do. We’ve all had moments where we felt unprepared, unqualified or unsure of ourselves. And when it comes to faith, we can have those same feelings.

That’s why I love how the letter of Hebrews ends. The entire letter is a call to renewed faith. And it ends with a powerful benediction that reminds us of God’s ongoing work in our lives through Christ. The prayer is that God would “make you complete.” The King James Version says “make you perfect,” but a better sense of the word means to be fully equipped. Made ready for every good work God desires. It’s not about flawless perfection here and now, but about being prepared with everything we need to live faithfully to God's call.

Jeremiah 12 begins with a question many of us might ask: Why does the way of the wicked prosper?

His lament is honest. "You have planted them, and they have taken root; they grow and bear fruit. You are always on their lips but far from their hearts” (v. 2). The prophet is naming the frustration and anger we all feel when wrong seems to thrive while good struggles.

This week, we had another school shooting. Another day of loss, grief and heartbreak. Another day of asking Jeremiah’s question. And, once again, explanations. In years past, when people said we need to take mental health seriously, some scoffed and called it an excuse. Now, mental health is a prominent part of the discussion. But then we also say it's not a gun problem it's a problem of evil.

Sure. I agree.

But what if our evil is also our gun problem? What if our evil is refusing to take seriously what needs to be done, just because we don’t like it, or it doesn’t fit our politics or it requires us to change?

Evil isn’t only in the act of violence itself. Evil festers when we choose inaction. Evil spreads when we turn God’s call for justice into shallow words that never reach our hearts. Evil thrives when children keep dying, and we keep shrugging.

This morning, I watched a video someone sent me. It was the day after Hurricane Harvey hit our area. The electricity had been out, but we had invited anyone who felt safe to come to the sanctuary for worship. By the time we gathered, the lights came back on. The church doors stood wide open because the air conditioner hadn’t yet cooled the building.

The video showed us singing _Leaning on the Everlasting Arms_. Between verses, we read from Psalm 46. In that moment, the words were not just familiar phrases in our worship book. They were living truth for us: God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

That day, we were grateful simply to have made it through another storm. Others in our community weren’t as fortunate. We faced the hard work of cleaning up at church and at home. There were things to repair, things to replace. That’s the reality of a storm's aftermath. 

But we all know not every storm comes with thunderclouds and wind. Some storms are quieter but just as fierce. The storms of life that unsettle us and frighten us. And those storms often demand long, painful recoveries, too.

Who doesn't love The Lion King? Hakuna matata, if you don't. It's a classic story and a great movie. One of my favorite scenes comes right after Simba sees a vision of his father, Mufasa, in the sky. "You have forgotten me," Mufasa says. A lot has happened to separate Simba from his past, his family and, might I say, his calling.

Then Rafiki shows up. He listens to Simba wrestle with his past, and suddenly bops him with his staff. You don't see that coming. That hit on the head becomes a part of a larger lesson and wake-up call for the soon-to-be king.

We all need those kinds of moments.

Ezekiel can be our Rafiki today, though without the jokes and singing. There's a lot in his writings that might shock or surprise you. In chapter 20, God gives the people their own bop, saying, "Go serve your idols, every one of you now and hereafter." That's not what you expect God to say. But that's what they were already doing. God's point, then, becomes clear: Don’t pretend you can serve idols and me at the same time. Don’t imagine I’ll be satisfied with your offerings if I’m just one more option among many. Those idols didn’t make you who you are. You have forgotten me.

And don't we forget God sometimes, too? We'd rather keep doing what we want, sprinkling a little Jesus on top. But that's not our calling. Thankfully, God promises to gather us back, just as the people could regather to the holy mountain. For us, it's Jesus who calls us home. When we turn back, God says, "you shall know that I am the Lord when I deal with you for my name's sake, not according to your evil ways or corrupt deeds."

In AD 17, a massive earthquake struck modern-day Turkey. Known as the Lydia earthquake, it devastated more than a dozen cities. Some were completely destroyed. Thousands of people died, and the ruins stood as haunting reminders of what some considered to be the worst earthquake in history. Even more traumatic, tremors continued for years afterward. One city especially marked by this was Philadelphia. Imagine surviving the terror of the “big one.” Now think about having aftershocks stir that memory again and again.

I’ve never experienced an earthquake. I’ll take a hurricane over that any day, and I’ve been through several. Growing up in Galveston, even though I was eighty years removed from it, the great 1900 storm still shaped part of who I thought I was. In the same way, I can imagine how the Lydia earthquake continued to shape the identity of Philadelphia for generations.

By the time Philadelphia is mentioned in the book of Revelation, the city had been rebuilt. The church there, apparently, was small and poor. But Jesus praised them for their faithfulness. He encouraged them to hold fast to their faith, promising, “I will make you a pillar in the temple of my God. You will never go out of it.”

That image would have been powerful. After the earthquake, many Philadelphians moved to the countryside, never certain when the next tremor might strike. And yet, here was God’s promise: You are not fragile. You are a pillar in my temple. You are a part of the strength that will not be shaken.

It’s easy to underestimate the power of a kind word or a gentle reminder of God’s presence. But haven't you had some experience where those kinds of little things have inspired you? We all need that from each other. Hebrews might call that every day encouragement. 

The Bible shows us that this daily blessing is not optional to a life with God. It's essential in keeping our heart focused on God's goodness and faithfulness. In keeping our faith strong.

Life wears on us. We all face challenges, disappointments and temptations. If left unchecked, they can slowly harden our hearts. That's why daily encouragement isn't just nice. It's necessary.

Now, encouragement doesn’t always have to be some grand gesture. It can be a text to a friend, a quick note of gratitude to a coworker or a willingness to just listen patiently to someone. I always thought people were being nice when they responded to the daily text messages I send. But I've come to realize people appreciate not just the words, but the thoughtfulness behind them.

All our small acts remind those around us, and ourselves, that God is alive and at work in our lives. Each act of encouragement pushes back against doubt, fear and the hardness that the world can bring.

For years, my denomination's vision statement has been to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. I can recall people who asked how we thought we could really transform anything. That sounded like too bold a statement, maybe even too lofty an ideal for the modern church. I always thought it was great.

It didn't mean I had to single-handedly change the entire world. It meant God was doing work through how we all love and serve God and neighbor.

I still believe God can transform the world through us. Through my church. Your church. Really, through God's church. I want us to believe that again. That God's love can work so profoundly within us and through us that people change their minds about who God is and what the world could be.

In Acts 17, Paul and Silas continue teaching in a local synagogue. Their teaching persuaded some people to begin following them, following Jesus. As a result, a group of Jewish leaders rally a mob against Paul and Silas. When they couldn't find the pair, they settled for going after others who were associated with them, including a man named Jason. The accusation made against them is awesome in the most challenging and hopeful way.

After Jason is dragged out of his house, they say that he and others he supports have turned the world upside down. Dare I say they were accused of transforming the world?

A small group from our church is watching The Chosen together. I don't want to spoil anything, but part of today's reading connected to the most recent episode we watched.

There's a moment where Mary, the mother of Jesus, reflects on raising Jesus as an infant. She remembers feeling glad that young Jesus needed her help. She cleaned up after him, taught him how to walk and did what mothers usually do for their growing children. Eventually, Jesus grew and didn't need Mary's help. He started a movement many people followed. What could she do for him now?

After Mary shares her feelings, Jesus enters the scene. He is weary from a day of teaching and healing and makes his way to his tent. Mary approaches him. She washes his feet and cleans his wounds. She helps him prepare to rest.

Part of her recalling mentioned being a teenager when Jesus always needed her help. Now, she is decades removed from that. Her helping days were not behind her. The Lord did still need her help.

The psalmist says, "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and do not forget all his benefits." He then lists several ways God acts in our lives. The Lord forgives, heals, redeems, crowns and satisfies us. Those aren't just past actions. What God has done, God continues to do. God has not stopped helping us.

As a pastor, I’ve served churches that considered themselves “older.” In fact, I still have at least a decade before I reach the average age of many of those congregations. In those churches, a conversation that always comes up is this: Why aren’t younger people more engaged with the church and its mission?

Church leaders often look for the silver bullet that will make this happen. Some churches are more willing to try whatever they’ve heard might make all the difference. But I’d like to suggest something that has to be in place no matter what else we do.

We see it in today’s reading. Jesus reminded everyone of God’s purpose for the temple when he flipped tables and drove people out. As he did, he quoted scripture: “My house shall be a house of prayer; but you have made it a den of robbers.” The Message Bible calls it a “religious bazaar.” In other words, the priorities of those leading the worship life of the temple were way off.

Now, Jesus’ actions made an impression, but so did his words. While the religious leaders plotted against him, the people kept listening. The NRSVUE says “all the people were spellbound” by what he taught. Other translations say they “hung on his every word.” Literally, it could be said they “hung on his lips” because they didn’t want to miss a word.

Why? Because his words were authentic and consistent with how he lived. His words brought hope to people in need. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or corny stories. And all his words pointed people to God.

In the pastoral world, it’s often said there are three things that bring people to church: death, divorce and disaster. Death and divorce touch individuals and families in personal ways. But disaster is something that can strike anyone, anywhere and all of us together.

Some people criticize the idea that it takes something terrible to wake us up to God’s reality. But isn’t that just being human? It’s certainly nothing new.

Psalm 74 is introduced as “a maskil of Asaph.” Scholars debate exactly what a maskil is, and even who Asaph was. But his name can mean “gatherer,” “collector,” or even “congregation.”

So what has the gatherer called the congregation to do? To lament.

The people had seen what felt like God’s silence and inaction, leading, most likely, to the destruction of the temple. Now, people debate which particular national crisis this psalm points to. What is clear is that it was a tragedy that touched everyone. The psalmist cries out on behalf of the gathered people. He even suggests that God’s anger was against them. “Why does your anger smoke against” us, he asks. And yet, his hope is this. That, if God remembers, God will return. And when God comes, God comes in power just as before.

My wife loves crime documentaries. Often, when I overhear her watching them, people talk about the choices that got them into trouble. They knew what they were doing was wrong, but they did it anyway. There’s a sense of control in that. “I’m doing what I want, and no one can stop me.” Isaiah 5:18–19 calls this exactly what it is. It's dragging sin along like it’s a tool and mocking God’s timing and grace because you think you got away with it.

To be clear, this isn’t just about criminals on TV. We all need to check our attitudes and actions.

Some of us treat sin like a tool. We know it’s wrong, but we try to get something out of it anyway. We justify it, even drag others along and act like we’re in total control. Then we get impatient with God when things go wrong, saying, “Fix this already!” Spoiler alert: rushing God never works, and dragging sin around won’t benefit us.

Boldness takes many forms. Personally, when I’ve heard about Christian boldness, it’s been in the context of telling people to come to Jesus. And yes that takes courage. Those who speak prophetically also need a boldness not all of us feel we have.

Are you bold in those ways?

Maybe you’re bolder than you think. Hebrews is often read like a sermon. A message meant to encourage believers whose faith has grown tired. The preacher knows the kind of faith God planted in this community. It’s the same faith we see in the heroes of Scripture and in the church’s story.

But somewhere along the way, this congregation lost step with that faith. Life happened. Pressures mounted. They couldn’t always endure “being publicly exposed to insults and afflictions.” They were, like the old hymn says tired, weak and worn.

The preacher calls them to remember what they once had: “You had compassion for those in prison, and you cheerfully accepted the plundering of your possessions, knowing that you yourselves possessed something better and more lasting.”

Because he knows their witness, he urges them: “Do not, therefore, abandon that boldness of yours.”

In this context, boldness isn’t just about public preaching or strong convictions. It's about the willingness to sacrifice for others. But it's compassion that refuses to draw lines around who is worthy of love and care, even extending it to prisoners.

Maybe the prisoners of Hebrews’ day were different than those in ours. Or maybe the boldness we need is the kind that would still choose to care for them and for anyone whose situation makes them easy to ignore.

Think of the joy, peace and wonder we feel each Christmas. There's something deeply meaningful about celebrating God with us. Unfortunately, we often confine the incarnation to December. But the incarnation isn't only powerful or worth our reflection around the holy days of winter.

Our calling as God's church becomes clearer when we recognize the incarnation in our daily lives and ministries. Just as baby Jesus was God with skin on, you and I become God's presence in the world, too. No, we are not God nor do we try to be. At least we shouldn't try to be! Instead, our actions become the way God "shows up" for others. We're God's skin.

We love because God loves. We care because God cares. We serve because Christ served. In all that action, we are not satisfying our own sense of duty, responsibility or righteousness. The work we commit to stands as a real sign of a real God who holds real people in real love.

We all know how to think. We do it constantly. Ironically, without very much thought. A simple definition of thinking is "the action of using one's mind to produce thoughts." Your mind. Your thoughts.

And isn't that where trouble can start? For the unfaithful slave in Jesus' parable, it was.

Jesus first paints a picture of a master entrusting a servant to care for the others while he is away. Things turn when the slave "says to himself" things that don't reflect his master's will. Whereas the master wanted the slave to fulfill his concern for the others, the slave starting thinking more for himself. And, as the Internet world says today, he let his intrusive thoughts win. His thoughts are to neglect his responsibilities and abuse the others while he indulges himself.

There was no prayer. No checking with the master's instructions. There was no accountability. That's what can happen when you only think to yourself. His thoughts were no longer, What would my master have me do? Instead he only thought, What do I feel like doing right now? Unfortunately, we often trade God-centered thinking for self-centered thinking.

I want to reflect on three P's of today's scripture reading.

First, the psalmist says, “I will sing of the Lord’s great love forever.” That is a choice to begin with praise. Praising God simply for who God is. We'll get get to our circumstances or struggles. But how would our prayers and trust deepen if we started with praising God’s steadfast love and faithfulness? Praise isn’t just something we do when we feel like it. It’s how we remind our hearts of the unchanging truth about God. When we praise, we step into God's bigger redemption story. That's where God’s love is stronger than any struggle we’re facing.

Then comes power. God’s greatness is so unmatched the heavens declare it. The seas obey the Lord. The mightiest nations fall before God. The whole earth belongs to God. This is the God we worship. The One who rules with both strength and tenderness. Whose throne is built on righteousness and justice. And remembering God’s power gives us courage. The God who split the seas and calmed the storm still works in our lives today.

Finally, there is a great blessing as we learn to rest in God's presence. “Happy are the people...who walk, O Lord, in the light of your countenance” That's not just about knowing God’s truth. It’s about living daily with God’s light guiding us. God’s presence brings joy, strength and direction. The blessings and victories of life, then, aren’t just wins in our own strength. They're the fruit of God’s hand upon us.

I was at home one day when I got a call from the church office. One of our members was there by herself. No one else was in the building which frightened her when she heard something. So, she locked herself in the office and called me to come help.

When I hung up, I told my family I'd be right back. "What happened," they asked. I gave them a quick answer as I searched for my keys. Just as I was about to head out the door, my son, who was about eight at the time, brought me something. It was a sparring stick we had laying around the house. He wanted me to bring it to protect our friend at church.

On one hand, I'll say trusting God is a little like that moment. It gives us confidence to step toward a need instead of running away from a problem. We know there's something that must be done, and God gives us strength to do it. We move toward the need, not always away from danger.