Join Imam Hamad Ahmed Chebli, Rabbi Adam Feldman, and Rev. David A. Davis for any of three evenings in which they will share prayers, texts, and lessons from their traditions on how people of faith can promote religious acceptance in our world today.
Each program is open to all members of our three communities and each program will include all three speakers.
Tuesday, January 26, 8:00PM
Islamic Center of Central New Jersey
4145 US One South and Promenade Boulevard, Monmouth Junction, NJ
Wednesday, January 27, 8:00PM
The Jewish Center of Princeton
435 Nassau Street, Princeton, NJ
Thursday, January 28, 8:00PM
Nassau Church
61 Nassau Street, Princeton, NJ
Since 2002, members of Nassau have supported the New Dawn Trilingual Educational Center in the highlands of Guatemala, including by sponsoring a nutritious hot breakfast for the students. To raise funds for this meal for their next school year, come to an authentic Guatemalan brunch in the Assembly Room following the 11:00AM service on January 31. It’s $15 per person or $40 per family. Make checks payable to Nassau Presbyterian Church with “Guatemala Breakfast” in the memo line.
If you would like to do more, become a Breakfast Patron with a donation of $80, which feeds one entire grade level for a month. For a donation of $500 you will be a Breakfast Angel and provide all 250 primary students with breakfast for one month.
Tapestry of Dreams, Memories, Culture
January Art Show features weaver Armando Sosa
Art Show Reception on January 31, 2:00PM, Assembly Room
Our Conference Room Art Show this month features master weaver Armando Sosa, a Hopewell resident and Guatemala native. His work is in the collections of the Newark Museum, the Princeton Public Library, Johnson & Johnson World Headquarters, and Capital Health Medical Center, as well as private collections. He’s exhibited his tapestries in museums throughout New Jersey, and has been featured on various television programs. The Worship and Arts Committee is pleased to announce that Sosa will also be our 2016–2017 Artist in Residence. Sosa has pledged 15% of proceeds from this show to Nassau’s Princeton-Parramos (Guatemala) Partnership.
A reception with Armando Sosa will follow the Guetemala brunch on Sunday, January 31, at 2:00PM in the Conference Room.
“Through my weaving, I am working to express my dreams, my memories, the overlapping cultural influences of my life in the United States, and my aspirations for the future,” Sosa says. “The traditional elements repeated in different forms throughout my textiles are a means of connecting with, celebrating, and preserving the rich and fascinating Guatemalan culture of my childhood.”
Guatemala Summer Trip
The tentative dates for the 2016 summer trip to Guatemala are July 8–July 17. The trip unites members of Nassau Church and the greater Princeton-area community in a trip of service projects and spectacular sightseeing. Information is available at the Guatemala table during Fellowship or you may contact Jonathan Holmquist () or Fredy Estrada ().
Tired of a world in which almost everyone, including ourselves at times, seems bent on little else than settling scores? As Christians we are bound to a faith in which forgiveness is central, but how much of it do we see going on around us, and how good are we, ourselves, at forgiving?
Learn to forgive as we have been forgiven. Bind yourself to others in our community of faith. Sign up for a Small Group today.
Offering fellowship and community, Small Groups at Nassau returns this Lent with a brilliant seven-session study on forgiveness, authored by Marjorie Thompson for The Thoughtful Christian: Faithful Living in a Complex World series. We will begin with a church-wide kickoff seminar with Dr. Bo Karen Lee of Princeton Theological Seminary. In the Small Group sessions in the following weeks we will wrestle with what is at the core of forgiveness and how to get past emotional barriers that inhibit us from practicing it in the way that we, in our most ideal selves, would like. We’ll examine the complexities of forgiveness and explore practices that might actually make us better at forgiving.
Join skilled leaders from our congregation in a study of forgiveness that will make this Lenten season one you will not soon forget!
Small Groups
Mondays 7:30–9:30PM
Wehrheim Home, Princeton
Carol Wehrheim, leader
Carol Wehrheim, a writer and Christian Education consultant, finds that Lenten small groups deepen her own prayer life, and her connection toher church community.
Tuesdays 11:30AM–1:00PM
Conference Room
Childcare provided, bring lunch
Elizabeth Gift, leader
Elizabeth has recently developed a much richer spiritual life through daily morning prayer and worship time. She is a stay-at-home mother of four children. She has been a member of Nassau Presbyterian Church for seven years, has served as a deacon, and has taught two-year-olds in Sunday School for three years.
Melissa Verhey-Zuranski, a PhD student in French, is writing her dissertation on identity and storytelling in the French novel. She grew up in a Dutch community near Toronto, and has been worshiping at Nassau Presbyterian Church for three years.
Wednesdays 6:30–7:30AM
Conference Room
Coffee and tea provided, bring breakfast
Dave Davis, leader
Dave Davis has been pastor and head-of-staff at Nassau Presbyterian Church for fifteen years. He has two books of sermons in print, the most recent, Lord, Teach Us to Pray.
Wednesdays 7:30–9:00 PM
Harmon Home, Princeton
Kate & Scott Harmon, leaders
Kate, Scott and their three teenage daughters returned to the Princeton area this summer after 8 years in Concord, MA, and are overjoyed to be back at Nassau Presbyterian Church. A former US Army officer, Scott returns to the consumer products market after the world of 3D printing. A CPA, Kate most recently worked for a small nonprofit in Massachusetts and is currently doing temp work while everyone settles in.
Thursdays 9:30–11:00AM
Music Room
Joyce MacKichan Walker, leader
Joyce MacKichan Walker is Minister of Education at Nassau Presbyterian Church and cheerleader and advocate for all things small group! She loves leading because of the opportunity to go deep in a place where all ideas and questions are welcome.
Brandon Watson is a second-year MDiv student at Princeton Theological Seminary. He has discovered a love of study and teaching, and conversation around ideas about God, Jesus and faith. He and his wife Cherry have a 4-year-old daughter, Abrianna.
Sundays 9:15–10:30AM
Room 202
Linda & John Gilmore, Keith Mertz, leaders
Linda, John, and Keith have participated in and led small groups for many years including co-leading groups here at Nassau Presbyterian Church.
Sundays 4:00–5:30PM
Dorrow Home, Skillman
Joanne & Dan Dorrow, co-leaders
Joanne was raised in Japan where her parents were missionaries. She is a mental health therapist currently practicing in New Jersey and New York City. Dan recently completed a Masters of Divinity at Princeton Theological Seminary. He is transitioning from his first career as a macroeconomist to Theology and Ethics. Dan and Joanne are the parents of two daughters.
Sundays 6:30–8:00PM
Room 301
Optional joint dinner with youth 6 p.m.
Andrew Peterson, leader
Hailing from Iowa and Michigan, Andrew Peterson is a doctoral student in theology at Princeton Theological Seminary. He lives primarily for pizza and coffee, but he lives primarily at the seminary library.
The upcoming weekend we focus on missions at Nassau. See below what you can look forward to!
Guest Preacher Rev. Lukata Mjumbe
9:15 and 11:00AM Worship
Rev. Lukata Mjumbe, Executive Director of the Urban Mission Cabinet, Inc., will preach at our Sunday morning worship services. The text is 1 Corinthians 3:5-7, the sermon — “Dead Kings and Living Armies.”
A Celebration of Mission & Ministries
Sunday, January 17, 10:15AM, Assembly Room
After the 9:15AM service, join us for a Mission Fair in celebration of the ministries and missions of Nassau Church. It’s a fun and interactive opportunity to understand more about our myriad outreach programs and to become involved. Come join us and enjoy the next step in your journey of faith. Hosted by the Membership Committee.
M.L.K. Jr. Morning of Mission
Hands-on Projects at Nassau
Monday, January 18, 10:30AM–12:00PM, Assembly Room
Morning of Mission is an annual tradition that marks the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. and reminds us of our Christian commitment to human flourishing in all places. This is a hands-on chance to make some things for our mission partners. We have an ambitious list of projects taking place. We will make pet blankets for orphaned animals, put together PB&J sack lunches for the Trenton Area Soup Kitchen (TASK), assemble Creativity Kits for HomeFront, collect personal care products for Crisis Ministry clients, package pillowcases for pediatric patients, and make calendars for ABC Literacy.
Come and join the effort. All hands needed and welcome. Help contribute by bringing some of the following items to the Morning of Mission or dropping them off earlier in the church office:
Creativity Kits for HomeFront
individual pkgs. of crayons (24-48 ct.)
individual pkgs. of colored pencils (24-28 ct.)
individual pkgs. of markers (10-12 ct.)
coloring books
coloring pads/sketch pads
individual packages of stickers
Personal care products for Crisis Ministry (full-size and travel-size donations appreciated!)
toothbrushes & toothpaste
shampoo & conditioner
razors & shaving cream
soaps & lotion
feminine products
Community Clean-up in Trenton
Monday, January 18, 8:30AM-12:00PM, led by Joyce MacKichan Walker, rain or shine
Meet at church parking lot and carpool to Columbus Park in Trenton
Nassau will join several local organizations and residents of Trenton for a non-traditional day of service. Service efforts will include picking up litter, downed branches, and debris in Columbus Park and surrounding neighborhoods in Trenton. Volunteers of all ages are encouraged to participate. Please dress appropriately with proper footwear and gloves. Non-perishable food will be collected and donated to the Crisis Ministry of Mercer County.
RSVP by Sunday, January 17, to Corrie Berg () if you are interested in joining the community clean-up crew.
Community Worship Service
Monday, January 18, 7:00PM, Sanctuary
Nassau Church will host the Princeton Community Service Celebrating the Life and Legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. with Rev. Muriel Burrows of Witherspoon Street Presbyterian Church preaching. All are invited to this service.
Ephesians 1:3-14, John 1:1-18
Dr. Shane Berg
January 3, 2016
The prologue to John’s Gospel is a Bible nerd’s paradise. The first three Gospels — Matthew, Mark, and Luke — reflect a mostly narrative approach to telling the story of Jesus. These Gospels are primarily concerned with showing Jesus’ significance in the history and tradition of Israel, and their storytelling style has many touch points with biblical books like Genesis, Exodus, Joshua, and Judges.
But John’s Gospel is another kettle of fish. The opening line about the “word” and its relationship to God indicate an interest on the part of the fourth evangelist in the philosophy and metaphysics of the time. And the references in those opening verses to the creation of the world do not resemble the anthropomorphized stories of creation in Genesis but rather the thought-world of second century Platonic cosmology. Only a few verses into this Gospel, we realize we are dealing with a complex and multi-layered piece of writing.
As the prologue continues, we find further refinement and sophistication. In the first three Gospels, John the Baptist is a fiery apocalyptic preacher; in John’s Gospel he is a contemplative theologian who expounds on the significance of Jesus as the “light” coming into the world. The incarnation of Jesus is described not in the earthy, messy terms of Mary and Joseph in a stable in Bethlehem but in the abstract language of the “word” descending to earth and taking on flesh and exhibiting “glory,” “grace,” and “truth.”
In many ways John’s Gospel is a work of poetic genius. Writing a generation or two later than the other Gospel writers, the fourth evangelist is able to step back and see the traditions about Jesus in a different perspective. The author recontextualizes the entire story of Jesus as Israel’s messiah in a cosmic framework and puts it into conversation with popular philosophy. And while the first three Gospels employ a narrative style that draws on biblical models of storytelling, the Fourth Gospel appropriates narrative devices and motifs from Greek tragedy and other genres of Greco-Roman literature. The imaginative and sophisticated and layered literary creation we call John’s Gospel is indeed a paradise for Bible nerds.
I could keep going on this trajectory for the rest of my time. The prologue is a rich vein and we could mine it endlessly. But you might rightly ask: after such a bruising year for our society and our world, and given all the challenges and crises we face in the new year, do we really want to fritter about ooh-ing and ah-ing over the abstract thought world of John’s Gospel? The role of God in our lives and our world is complicated enough to grapple with and think about as it is; do we really need to have the theological waters muddied even further by the philosophical gymnastics of the fourth evangelist?
I think it is a fair question. If the Gospel of John cannot offer us more than a self-indulgent exercise in a scholastic reinterpretation of the life of Jesus, then we should rightly discount it and get back to the Matthew, Mark, and Luke to guide us in a difficult age. But let’s hang in there with the prologue just a bit longer; there is a brief clause at the end that will make quite a difference, I submit to you, in how we view John’s contemporary relevance.
A former CEO of a major tech firm recently made a distinction for me between two kinds of simplicity. There is a simplicity, he explained, on the near side of complexity. It is a dangerous simplicity that does not take into account the best of human learning or sophisticated insights and methods or complex reasoning. It is an uninformed, sloganistic, intellectually lazy sort of simplicity; if you want to see it on display, tune into the presidential primary debates.
On the other hand, a simplicity on the far side of complexity is incredibly valuable and important. It is a simplicity that acknowledges, understands, and is shaped by complexity. This sort of simplicity is crucial because there are times and places when we cannot remain among the dense trees but must come out and see the entire forest as a whole. We need a simplicity on the far side of complexity in order to provide reliable summaries on how we should live, think, and act in a world in which we cannot master everything ourselves. We see this kind of simplicity in great popularizing teachers like Bill Nye the Science Guy. Some of our greatest thinkers, like Albert Einstein, have emphasized the importance of simplicity on the far side of complexity; Einstein is often quoted as saying that if you couldn’t explain an idea to a six-year-old, you didn’t know it yourself.
For simplifying complex matters, I myself remain a fan of the “for dummies” books (e.g., computer programming for dummies, personal finances for dummies, classical music for dummies). The really good ones are invaluable in providing simple summaries of complicated material. As my wife Corrie can tell you, I from time to time become interested in tackling some new area that interests me — in past years it has ranged from photography to wine to woodworking — and I typically begin by reading a “for dummies” book on the subject. I appreciate the way vast bodies of complex knowledge and practice are presented in a straightforward way — simplicity on the far side of complexity.
Now it might seem contradictory to you if I suggest that John’s Gospel has a “God for dummies” quality to it, but it in fact is quite true. The fourth evangelist certainly relishes the complexity of theorizing about what it means for God to become incarnate in Jesus, but there is distinct evidence in the text itself of simplicity on the far side of that theological and philosophical complexity. The first indicator of this interest in helping us understand what the incarnation means come at the very end of the scripture passage for today in John 1:18: “No one has ever seen God, but the only begotten God, the one who is God the Father’s most intimate companion, that one interprets God the Father for us.” The evangelist refers, of course, to Jesus — the Word made flesh, the only-begotten son of God — as the one who can make God known to us, who can reveal God to us.
At several points in the Gospel of John Jesus further underscores the point that he is the one who reveals the identity, nature, and character of God the Father. In 12:45, Jesus asserts that “whoever sees me sees the Father who sent me.” In 14:6-7 he elaborates this idea further, stating, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.” At these and other points Jesus makes it quite clear that “seeing” him means “seeing” God the Father. And since in the Gospel of John “seeing” is word that means “know and understand,” what John’s Gospel is saying is that if we want to know what God is like, we simply need to look at Jesus. We might even say that in the Gospel of John, Jesus himself is the simplicity on the far side of divine complexity.
It is difficult to overstate the significance of the implications of this audacious claim that in Jesus we know God fully. It means that whatever we might say or think or speculate about God, we must do so in reference to the incarnate son Jesus. Whatever we say about the omniscient, omnipotent creator of the universe must square with what we know of Jesus of Nazareth. And so this leads to the $64,000 question — what does Jesus tell us about who God is? what is it about God the Father that Jesus makes known to us? The answer is remarkably simple: that God loves the world and wants us to love one another.
In the first three Gospels, Jesus and the disciples finish the supper and immediately depart to the Mount of Olives, where Jesus is arrested. But in John’s Gospel, Jesus gives a long and detailed set of teachings to the disciple, often called by scholars the Last Supper discourse. In this long set of speeches, Jesus spends a great deal of time discussing love. He emphasizes that his heavenly Father loves him, the disciples, and the whole world. Jesus explains how he embodies this same love and that his entire purpose is to exhibit this love to the world.
And crucially, Jesus expects his disciples to show the marks of love in their fellowship; in 13:34-35 Jesus offers the following marching orders: “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” In the following chapter, Jesus again asserts the relationship between loving one another and knowing God: They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them” (14:21). At several other points in this last teaching session with his disciples, Jesus drives home the necessity of love for knowing God fully.
And so in the end, despite all the rich complexity regarding God’s cosmic being, the Gospel of John gives us an insight that is profoundly simple, straightforward, and easily comprehensible. God loves the world dearly and sent Jesus to make this love known to us. We demonstrate that we understand this divine love not by writing dissertations about God or by endlessly theorizing about God but by loving our neighbors. Nothing could be more simple and powerful and needful in an age all too bereft of love. To grow in our knowledge of God, we turn not to our books but to a broken and hurting world that needs our love and compassion.
In one of the most famous passages in John, Jesus says, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” At this table, the simple signs of bread and wine remind us of the sacrificial love of Jesus that fully reveals God’s love for the entire world. Amen.
Micah 5:2–5a
David A. Davis
December 20, 2015
Advent IV
Unlike our encounter with Zephaniah last week, there are few parts of the Book of Micah that are familiar to the ear.
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction and
the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between many peoples
and shall arbitrate between strong nations far away;
they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more. (4:2-3)
That sounds like Isaiah’s peaceable kingdom. It’s in Isaiah too. But also Micah.
With what shall I come before the Lord
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before the Lord with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
with then thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God. (6:6-8)
Ah, Micah! And, of course, the lesson for today. It’s what the Magi quoted to King Herod.
You, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
who is to shepherd my people Israel. (MT 2:6, Micah 5:2)
One evening a long time ago, I opened our refrigerator with the intent of setting out some cheese and crackers. I opened the little door on the shelf where we always keep the cheese and grabbed a few different kinds. When I reached for the brie I made a rather shocking discovery. Someone had been eating the brie. But that’s not the surprising part. The family member who was scarfing the brie ate the cheese between the skin, the rind of the brie. The cheese on the pie-shaped slice of brie was mostly gone and the rind was hanging there like the ear flaps on a winter hat. I figure not everyone eats that part of the brie but it was an impressive, delicate operation to go for the cheese and leave the rind. It required a kind of surgical precision.
You and I have been listening to the church read the prophet Micah during Advent and Christmas forever — fourth Sunday of Advent, Lessons and Carols, a pageant here and there. Not just here at Nassau, but everywhere. Micah 5:2-5a. Notice the surgical precision in how the tradition reads Micah at Christmas. God’s promise delicately lifted out and then romanticized by the season. Like all the other minor prophets, Micah isn’t lacking when it comes to judgment and wrath. Some have called Micah the angriest of the prophets. But not at Christmas. “You, O Bethlehem… he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God… and he shall be the one of peace” (Micah 5:2-5a).
The liturgical editing of Micah is more than simply cherry-picking the messianic promise. If there is a “scroogie” listener among us this morning, or even a careful listener who likes to follow along in the pew Bible when the lesson is being read, or maybe just a typical worshiper gifted this morning with some extra curiosity, a basic question ought to arise. If the bulletin lists the end of the reading or if the lector announces the end of the reading as “5a,” inquiring minds ought to be wondering about “b.” For that matter, if a lesson like this is as expected and familiar as “chestnuts roasting on an open fire” and it starts at verse 2, just once, some time, some year, someone may want to ask about verse 1.
Sometimes this sort of snipping of a scripture lesson is because of transitions, or a rethinking of how the ancient counsels number chapter and verse. It’s not always a Thomas Jefferson-esque omitting of parts you don’t like. But here in Micah it smells of a Christmas tradition that takes the cheese and leaves the rind, opting for the messianic promise and leaving behind the bleak image of a nation and a king under siege.
Now you are walled around with a wall;
siege is laid against us;
with a rod they strike the ruler of Israel upon the cheek. (5:1)
If the Assyrians come into our land
and tread upon our soil,
we will raise against them seven shepherds
and eight installed as rulers.
They shall rule the land of Assyria with the sword
and the land of Nimrod with the drawn sword;
they shall rescue us from the Assyrians
if they come into our land
or tread within our border. (5b-6)
A people surrounded on all sides by the forces of destruction. A king who has been slapped in the face. And an acknowledgment that the most brutal and violent of enemies are on the doorstep and must be turned back by might. And in between is the promise of a great shepherd rising up who will nurture the people rather than exert power over them. A ruler who will bring security to the land and will be great to the ends of the earth. This shepherd, this ruler, shall be the one of peace. In Hebrew, shalom. Peace. Wholeness. Completeness. Prosperity. Safety. The prophet Micah: the bold promise of the one of peace smack in the middle of the very real threat of defeat, destruction, and death.
I was back in Princeton Cemetery this week standing with a family around an open grave. It is always colder in the cemetery and that day the wind was whipping at my back as I stood at the head of the casket looking across that open grave at a grieving husband and children and grandchildren. I read the Scripture that I pretty much always read: “Behold I tell you a mystery, we shall not all die but we will all be changed… Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O grave, is your sting?” The Apostle Paul, First Corinthians. It is one thing to read those verses here from this pulpit on Easter morning when there is no seat to be found and the trumpet sound is still bouncing off the wall. It’s quite another to read it to a handful of brokenhearted folks as the cold wind of death blows right in their face and they have to decide if they can believe it.
Micah’s promise of the coming one of peace. It’s one thing to read it up here on Christmas Eve about 30 minutes before “Silent Night.” It’s quite another to read it when you know someone, more than one, feels the world pressing in on all sides and is wondering if peace, this peace, the peace that passes all understanding, whether that peace is real. Micah’s promise. It is more than a perfectly read sound bite clipped and made tidy as all eyes look to a manger artfully placed in an array of Christmas flowers under a spotlight up in the front of the sanctuary. It is a bold declaration of hope best received when surrounded by the world’s darkness or life’s gloom or a wilderness despair. An audacious claim of wholeness best heard when relationships have been broken or when the body has been wearing out or when important parts of life seem to be falling into pieces all around.
This promised one of peace stands among us to feed our soul with the word of salvation and to calm our spirits with the assurance of his love. The one of peace guides us toward a kingdom of compassion and justice and calls us to a life of servanthood. The one of peace invites us to experience a security the world can never give and marks us with a grace that the world can never take. To be overwhelmed by humanity’s lust for violence and still have hope in a peace that can blanket the earth. To be upset by the rejections, the anxieties, the stress of the day, and still go to bed assured of the peace that will greet you in the morning. To be battered by the torrential messages that meaning is to be found in the perfect gift or that a new car speaks to the truth of the season or that the design of a Starbucks coffee cup is an insult to Jesus himself and still dare to believe in a peace that comes in doing justice and loving kindness and walking humbly with your God. Micah’s Advent promise. Micah 5:1-6
Fiddler on the Roof is back on Broadway. An article in the newspaper described how the current production begins and ends in a new way. The actor playing Tevye opens and closes the show in contemporary clothes, a person of today. The article called it a framing device; the familiar, traditional musical framed by two very brief contemporary scenes. Apparently the director had to work at convincing the original lyricist, who is still alive, about the framing. In explaining the framing device, the director said, “I’m not trying to change it. I’m just trying to heighten the experience. I can’t imagine starting in the traditional way — it never occurred to me. We have to ask questions about where we are now.”
Imagine how Micah might explain how his messianic promise is framed by the very real threat of defeat, destruction, and death. “I’m not trying to change the promise, just heighten the experience of it.” Then the whole chorus of the minor prophets turns to us and says in one voice, “You have to ask questions about where we are now.” Where you are now. Because whether you climb to the highest spot you can find and look out at the world or you retreat to the innermost part of your soul and examine your life, it can feel like you’re being surrounded on all sides by something other, everything other, than peace. It’s in those moments, on those days, during those nights, in that wilderness that that you have to cling to the promise of the Christ Child. Emmanuel. God with us. I am with you until the close of the age. My peace I give unto you. Not as the world gives, give I to you.
Zephaniah 3:9-20
David A. Davis
December 13, 2015
Advent III
We can safely assume that with a few notable exceptions here among us this morning, most of us (including me) are not all that familiar with the Book of Zephaniah and its three chapters. I read to you the last twelve verses, the concluding verses. But let me share a few other quotes with you. Quotes from Zephaniah.
“I will utterly sweep away everything from the face of the earth, says the Lord.
I will sweep away humans and animals;
I will sweep away the birds of the air and the fish of the sea.
I will make the wicked stumble.
I will cut off humanity from the face of the earth, says the Lord.” (1:2-3)
“The great day of the Lord is near, near and hastening fast;
the sound of the day of the Lord is bitter,
the warrior cries aloud there,
That day will be a day of wrath,
a day of distress and anguish,
a day of ruin and devastation,
a day of darkness and gloom,
a day of clouds and thick darkness.” (1:14-15)
“Gather together, gather O shameless nation,
before you are driven away like the drifting chaff,
before there comes upon you the fierce anger of the Lord’s wrath.
Seek the Lord, all you humble of the land
who do the Lord’s commands;
seek righteousness, seek humility;
perhaps you may be hidden on the day of the Lord’s wrath.” (2:1-3)
“Therefore wait for me, says the Lord,
for the day when I arise as a witness.
For my decision is to gather nations, to assemble kingdoms,
to pour out upon them my indignation,
all the heat of my anger;
for in the fire of my passion all the earth shall be consumed.” (3:8)
And right about now, somewhere in the kingdom of heaven, a voice can be heard responding to the prophet Zephaniah: “Well, Merry Christmas to you too Uncle Zeph!” The cranky old prophet of gloom and doom who feasts on judgement and doles out God’s wrath not with a fine-tooth comb but with a fire hose. Like the family member at the Christmas gathering who just gets meaner every year and always seems to find a new way to express the same old vitriol based on what’s going on in the world or in the family this year. Like that friend of yours who quotes scripture all the time and never has a good thing to say about anybody, including you. Like that person in the office who purposely stirs the current event pot of tension over lunch while claiming to have studied all the world religions so you are expected to accept those harsh conclusions and stereotyped indictments of the faith groups you really know nothing about. Like that thread, that thick cord, that huge log that runs through the Christian tradition, and Christian preaching, and Christian teaching, and Christian attitude, and Christian practice that always seems more drawn to God’s anger than God’s love.
“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath that is to come?” That’s John the Baptist with two feet firmly planted in the wilderness tradition that includes a whole lot of God’s wrath. “I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” (Mt 3:7, 11-12) Wrath. Fork. Chaff. Burn. Unquenchable fire. John the Baptist upholding the tradition of hellfire and brimstone while a gaggle of prophet followers who went before and a whole multitude of judgment by fire hose people who came after can’t hold back on their applause.
The remarkable part of Zephaniah, though, the remarkable part is that there is this turn. In just three chapters. An unexpected, breathtaking turn. Zephaniah’s turn. The turn is so surprising that you’re a few verses past it, a few verses into it, before you even realize. You have to do one of those reader backups. “Whoa, what just happened?!”
On that day you shall not be put to shame
because of all the deeds by which you have rebelled against me…
For I will leave in the midst of you a people humble and lowly.
They shall seek refuge in the name of the Lord….
they will pasture and lie down
and no one shall make them afraid.
The Lord has taken away the judgments against you.
Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands grow weak.
The Lord your God is in your midst…
The Lord will rejoice over you with gladness,
The Lord will renew you in God’s love
The Lord will exult over you with loud singing.
I will save the lame and gather the outcast,
and I will change their shame into praise and renown in the earth.
At that time I will bring you home.
When you read the little known minor prophet straight through, all of a sudden things change. Here on the playing field of God’s judgement and grace, here in that same wilderness tradition that includes a whole lot of God’s wrath, here in the annuls of salvation history, here in the prophet Zephaniah, as with all the Hebrew prophets, there’s a change, things change. Everything changes. It all changes. It’s a breathtaking, unexpected turn toward God’s mercy, God’s promise, God’s love.
Imagine a parent escorting a “skootchy” 4-year-old through a crowded parking lot out along Route 1 somewhere. The child has done the best she could, held it all together in the store for longer than anyone wants to ever be there anyway. And there in the parking lot, with a cart piled high and darkness falling in the sky, the child sees the family car and for no apparent reason breaks free of the grip and races ahead to a win a race that no one started. Thankfully the other car stopped. The other driver saw but — the honk and the stop and the headlights and the near miss — it was all so frightening for parent and for child. Words of correction with a strong tone would be warranted so that it never happened again. But as it was, both parent and child were in tears. No words came. Just an embrace of love and relief.
Or think of the two siblings who have been at it for years. They haven’t talked for so long they each forget what started the hard feelings and the finger pointing and cold hearts. It was their children, the cousins who planned the family reunion and insisted. When the two embraced at the picnic, words would have been too dangerous. Just some tears and an embrace of love and relief. Or the parent of the teenager driver who comes home after the first ticket or the first accident. The parent fully expects to launch in with a high volume lecture to end all lectures. But that face and the fear still on that face and the heart-sick reality of what could have happened. So no words, no lecture. Just the firmest of embrace of love and relief.
Expecting judgment and receiving only an embrace. Kind of like when Jesus told about that son who came home after eating with the pigs and squandering all the money his father gave him. His father offered an embrace not a reprimand, and there was a big party too. What a twist that was. Nobody expected it, especially the elder brother. A twist. A change. A turn. Zephaniah’s turn. The prophet’s breathtaking, unexpected turn toward God’s mercy, God’s promise, God’s love.
Old Testament professor Bill Brown puts it this way, “The words of the prophet Zephaniah both plumb the depths of judgment and climb the heights of grace. In fact, the overall movement of the book is defined by judgment giving way to salvation.” Judgment giving way to salvation. “No one shall make them afraid. The Lord will rejoice over you with gladness. The Lord will renew you in love. The Lord will exult over you with loud singing. I will save the lame and gather the outcast. The Lord your God is in your midst. I will bring you home.” Judgement giving way to salvation. What an incredible turn. It’s an Advent turn. A turn toward God’s mercy, God’s grace, God’s love. The Advent turn. Things change. Everything changes, As the Catholic priest and writer and spiritual director Richard Rohr said on Thursday night down at St. Paul’s Church, “When you fall into the ocean of mercy, the counting stops.” The counting of sins and the pointing of fingers and the keeping score and the demonizing the other and the fire hose of fear and judgement. Even in the wilderness tradition so full of God’s wrath, there comes this unexpected turn, and the counting stops. A turn toward the ocean of God’s mercy.
Just a few weeks ago I was on a panel over at the seminary in the class for first-year students on the Old Testament. The discussion was about preaching the Old Testament. I have been a part of that classroom discussion many times now. Each year the professors invite the students to submit questions ahead of time and then they forward them on to the panel members ahead of time. Over the years the students change but the questions are about the same. They can all be grouped into the same four, five, or six questions. One group of questions every year has to do with this wilderness wrath, the prophets that are so full of judgment, this God of the Old Testament.
Next year if I am invited back, my response is going to be, “God of the Old Testament? Have you listened to John the Baptist lately?” Wrath. Fork. Chaff. Burn. Unquenchable fire. When it comes to John the Baptist in Matthew’s gospel, there is no turn. You listened to it. In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea proclaiming… and what comes next is pretty much a fire hose of wrath. After John’s sermon, after he finishes, after he ends at “unquenchable fire,” Matthew writes, “then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan.” Then Jesus came. Then Jesus came. That’s it. There it is. The turn. Then Jesus came. The unexpected, breathtaking turn. The Advent turn toward God’s mercy, God’s promise, God’s love. Then Jesus came. In the wilderness tradition so full of God’s wrath, there comes this unexpected turn, and the counting stops. A turn toward the ocean of God’s mercy.
The Lord your God is in your midst… The Lord will rejoice over you with gladness. The Lord will renew you in love. The Lord will exult over you with loud singing. I will save the lame and gather the outcast. I will bring you home… And no one shall make them afraid.
Then Jesus came. And before you sing over him this Christmas, before you welcome him and wrap him and gather around him and love on him, long before any of that, you know he is waiting to rejoice over you and renew you. He is waiting to welcome you home to the cradle of God’s love where nothing and no one shall make you afraid.
Malachi 2:17-3:5
David A. Davis
December 6, 2015
Advent II
As we sit with the prophet Malachi this second Sunday of Advent, you will want to notice that we are at the very end of the Old Testament. Malachi is the last of the twelve prophets ordered in what the tradition labels “The Latter Prophets” or “The Minor Prophets”: Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi. The Bible didn’t fall out of heaven back in the day with a table of contents and a batting order. The arrangement is the work of the church fathers who established the canon of the Old and New Testament. In fact the order of books is different in the Hebrew Bible. These twelve prophets are in a different place. Malachi isn’t the last book of the Hebrew bible.
So the wisdom, the theological imagination, of our forbears in the Christian faith comes into play when the reader gets to the end of Malachi, turns the page, and reads, “An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1). Malachi to Matthew. The gospels. Luke and Matthew, in particular, connect Malachi’s concept of a messenger, the messenger of the covenant, with the role of Elijah and of John the Baptist. Malachi to Matthew and Luke.
In just a few minutes the Adult Choir will be singing a chorus from Handel’s Messiah. “And he shall purify,” which is Malachi 3:3 in the King James. “And He shall purify the sons of Levi, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness.” The libretto of Handel’s oratorio was done by Charles Jennings using the King James Bible. Immediately after the chorus we will hear this morning, immediately after “And He Shall Purify” in the movement of Handel’s Messiah an alto soloist sings “Behold A Virgin Shall Conceive” and not long after that comes the unforgettable chorus “For Unto Us A Son is Given.” Like in the canon of Christian scripture, in Handel and Jennings work Malachi is the pick-up note to the gospel’s tune. The prophet’s upbeat to the gospel proclamation of Jesus as the Messiah. Malachi to Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. And with the turn of one of those thinnest of Bible pages comes the jarring juxtaposition of refiner’s fire, fullers’ soap, and a babe lying in a manger. It is an unlikely pairing of judgement and of grace, purification and sanctification, the hard work of preparing and the humble act of receiving. “Who can endure the day of his coming and who can stand when he appears?… For to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior who is Christ the Lord.” Messengers just a few thin pages apart with a word about God’s covenantal promise and the messiah who is surely coming.
The major message of this minor prophet is intended for priests who have corrupted the community’s worship life and insulted God by offering at the altar something other than the best of sacrifices. Malachi also indicts the state of relationships and fidelity among the people while offering a word of judgement on their lack of willingness to care for the most vulnerable. As you heard at the end of what was read: “I will be swift to bear witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien, and do not fear me, says the Lord of hosts.”
With such judgement in the air, the messenger’s role, the prophet’s action, the necessary preparation for the coming of the Lord is to purify. Thus fire and soap. Fire and soap. If you were to spend just a little bit of time this week at the library, or online, or just with the books in my study, you would find no lack of commentaries, devotionals, and sermons on our lesson for the day from Malachi. But you will no doubt come to agree with me that few metaphors in Scripture have had more life squeezed out of them than the refiner’s fire and the fullers’ soap. So I will spare you the detail of doing laundry in the ancient world and a lesson on the production of finer metals. Let us agree to respect the power of Malachi’s language here and just leave the images alone. Fire and soap. The messiah’s coming demands of God’s people a cleansing so deep that the very nature of both the individual and the community is transformed. Refined. Purified.
It has become one of the highlights of the Advent and Christmas season here in our congregation. It’s called “Wee Christmas.” Just this last Wednesday families with the youngest children came to the church to share a meal, to work on a craft, to play with crèches, and to tell the story of Jesus’ birth in a rather active way. That part comes here in the sanctuary as I tell everyone the story and give everybody things to say and sound effects to do. Then we send the children to various corners, designated by age, to put on the expected costumes. So one group will be the shepherds, another the angels, there will be magi, and a group of Mary and Josephs. The second time through the Nativity story everyone has a part. Parents who were there will attest to the wondrous commotion and the unbridled enthusiasm and the beauty and fun of 20-30 kids two through second grade (though it seemed like 80) participating in pretty much a flash mob pageant. It’s the hardest work I do all year!
This year, amid all the chaos (which is a much too negative word but you get my point), I noticed a few of the children who took their roles very, very seriously. We had a Mary, who held that baby doll like she was holding an infant brother the day he came home from the hospital. One of the Magi carried his gift like he was asked to carry his grandmother’s favorite piece of china. And every time I told of the Magi stopping and looking up again at the star, he would stop and look up with such sincerity and intensity. A few of the shepherds were determined to do what was right by the sheep and by Jesus, even when I mistakenly thought at one point they were Mary and Joseph. Undeterred by my mistake, they kept in character. Even when the angels and the animals who were all much younger ran pretty much amok, those shepherds tended both to their sheep and to the baby Jesus. There was a serious, sincere, authentic, intense, devotion to the birth of the messiah around here even when those kids were surrounded by distraction and chaos.
Maybe that’s where to start your Advent purification. With a renewed devotion to God’s promise of a Savior. A devotion that comes with a seriousness, a sincerity, an authenticity, an intensity. An attention to the coming of the Lord so genuine, so real, that your very nature, your being, your heart, your soul yearns for a cleansing so deep, so transforming. An encounter with the messenger of the covenant that breaks through the abundant distractions that surround you, and the very real parts of life that cause you concern and worry, and the world’s despair and chaos that can so easily be overwhelming pretty much on any given day.
In these wilderness days of terror attacks and reports of double digit death, when workplace and campus so quickly and easily turn to killing fields, as fear and hatred spread with epidemic force, political leaders on all sides rush to point fingers at each other and turn the conversation to score points for some kind of gain. In these wilderness days of campus unrest when it comes to race and as protesters take to the streets of Minneapolis and Chicago in response to jarring and troubling videos, and as the conflict among the nations grows ever more complex, the news shows and outlets are so willing to call pretty much anyone an expert and let them express an opinion. The only thing piling up quicker than the events that make headlines and jam up the news cycle are the opinions of those who are willing to talk about everything and everyone else whether on camera or online. Opinions about everything and everyone… else.
The word of the prophet affirms that when the wilderness rages the first heart to examine is your own. The hard work of preparation, the humble act of receiving… purification begins within. The first place to turn when you feel lost in the world’s wilderness is toward the One whose life upended the world, whose teaching threatened the world, whose mercy disarmed the world, whose death and resurrection transformed death’s stranglehold on the world. The one wrapped in a swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. That’s the first place to look. And the first heart to examine is yours. When the wilderness looms, the Advent instinct ought to kick: an intensified devotion to God’s promise. Transformed. Refined. Purified.
“And He shall purify the sons of Levi, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness.” The New Revised Version puts it, “he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness.” Not “that” they offer but “until” they offer. Who knew the word “until” could be a word of hope. That God will be about the work of our purification until our offerings of righteousness overflow. The persistence of God’s promise. Until. Until the very righteousness of God flows. Until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Another minor prophet. Amos. Nothing minor about the promise.
When the choir sings Handel, notice how the purifying part works its way through all of the voices of the choir: sopranos, altos, basses, tenors. “He shall purify…” And with that movement of notes and the tempo that is so Handel, there is a sort of feel like scrubbing or crackling fire. “He shall purify”… When you listen, it’s kind of like fire and soap. But when the choir then sings of the offering of righteousness, “that they may offer unto the Lord an offering of righteousness,” the harmonies ring out, the unity of voices can’t be missed. The pace changes. You have to listen for it, right in the middle of the chorus and then at the end. Handel’s creative proclamation that affirms purification may come one heart at time, but righteousness, righteousness unleashed, that’s a plural thing, that’s a community thing, that’s a kingdom thing. The righteousness of God that transforms the world. For God so loved this world that God gave God’s only Son. God gave us God’s Son.
Let your Advent instinct kick in and join in the Advent prayer, the Advent wilderness plea: Even so, come Lord Jesus. Come.
Jeremiah 33:14-16
David A. Davis
November 29, 2015
Advent I
“A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” That’s the prophet Isaiah, the 40th chapter. Of course it’s John the Baptist too. As Matthew, Mark, and Luke make that indelible connection. “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness; Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.” You know it is Advent when you read, when you hear, when you sing, “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord.” This Advent that prophet’s call is what will shape our preaching life. “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord.” Typically a congregation’s experience of Advent worship puts the emphasis of that sentence on prepare. The theme, the language, the theological underpinning of the four Sundays, more often than not it is prepare. Prepare for the Christ Child. Prepare your heart. Prepare for Christmas. Let every heart prepare him room. “In the wilderness PREPARE the way of the Lord.”
But this Advent, with the help of the prophets, maybe we can hear it in a different way. Not just Isaiah but Micah and Malachi and Zephaniah and Jeremiah. This Advent as we look to the prophets that call may start to sound different. Those prophetic voices offer a shift in the emphasis, a different inflection. Instead of rushing to PREPARE, how about “In the WILDERNESS, prepare the way of the Lord.” When you hang with the Hebrew prophets in Advent other themes, different language, and other theological underpinnings rise up. Not just Advent preparation. But Advent wilderness. “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord.”
In the wilderness…
Our sermon text for the First Sunday of Advent comes from the prophet Jeremiah. Among the Old Testament prophets Jeremiah is sort of the “Debbie Downer.” That’s not a technical term among scholars but the long chapters in the long book that take the prophet’s name are full of harsh words for and the indictment of God’s people, descriptions of pending destruction, Jeremiah’s own lament and struggle with God, and a recounting of various challenges in his own life. In the history of the people of Israel this was the time of Babylonian rule, and some being hauled into exile, the city of Jerusalem being ravaged and the temple being destroyed, and the end of the reign of the lineage of David. No Jerusalem. No temple. No king. A wilderness of devastation, destruction, judgment, and the prophet’s wrath. And still, and yet, and of course, God’s promise.
The days are surely coming. A righteous branch to spring up from David. Justice and righteousness executed in the land. Jerusalem in safety. Our Christian ears are quick to hear a messianic reference to Jesus the Savior of the world born to the house of David. But notice how specific God’s promise is for a people whose city and temple and monarchy has been destroyed. The promise of righteousness returning to the lineage. The promise of righteousness in the land. The promise of righteousness in the city. Righteousness, as in the very righteousness of God. Not just God’s will and God’s way, but an attribute of God. Part of God. Part of God’s DNA. The promise is that God’s righteousness will rub off. From no city, no temple, no king to an abundance of righteousness. The days are surely coming when the land, the city, the king, when all of it just drips with the righteous of God. The name by which it will be called is “Yahweh is our righteousness.”
The name by which it will be called is “Yahweh is our righteousness.” I cannot for the life of me figure out exactly what is being named here. Is it the righteous branch that will be called “the Lord is our righteousness”? Or is it Jerusalem, the city living in safety, that will be called “the Lord is our righteousness”? In an earlier chapter Jeremiah makes it crystal clear that the reference is to the righteous branch, the king, “this is the name by which he will be called, ‘the Lord is our righteousness.’” (23:6). But commentators and translators are split on this reference in chapter 33. “This is the name wherewith she shall be called” (King James). But the Common English Bible sticks with “this is what he will be called.” And the New Jerusalem Bible states it this way: “And this is the name the city will be called: Yahweh is our saving justice.” So the Hebrew is vague. Translators seem to go about 50/50. So the answer to the question to what is being named “the Lord is our righteousness,” is it the righteous branch or Jerusalem, the answer must be a resounding “yes.” Righteous in the branch. Righteousness in the city. Righteousness. Righteousness in the king. Righteousness in the people. The Lord is our righteousness.
When our son Ben went to college his teammates on the soccer team quickly gave him the nickname, Bane. The name Bane comes from the Batman comic books and movies. Bane is one of Batman’s arch-rivals, a scary armored kind of villain complete with a mask. I am sure there was more to the story of Ben becoming Bane that I probably don’t want to know. But for four years now pretty much everyone on campus has called him Bane — players, coaches, trainers, friends. Bane. A few weeks ago Ben broke his nose in a game. A short time after the injury he was cleared to play but only if he wore this mask that protected his nose. So the one named Bane now wore a Bane-like mask. At one game some opposing fans were mocking the mask and started chanting “Bane.” Little did they know they were just calling Ben by his team name. As I said to many folks later, I never knew a nickname could be prophetic.
“The Lord is our righteousness”. A name given by God through the prophet Jeremiah. A name given to announce that things are going to get better. A name given when things really couldn’t get much worse. A name given to a future king and a future people. A name with a future where God’s righteousness rubs off on God’s people. A name that points to the righteousness of God becoming, showing forth, bearing witness, passing on in the righteousness of God’s people. A name that speaks of hope amid despair, life amid death, and salvation itself rising up from nothing else, nothing other than the everlasting mercy of God. “The Lord is our righteousness.” A name given that is prophetic.
Advent is a season to receive and to claim God’s promise and to yearn again for God’s future. Receiving God’s promise of an incomparable love revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Receiving God’s promise of a wordless comfort and an worldly peace and a divine wisdom that blows with the breath of the Holy Spirit. Receiving God’s promise of a coming kingdom full of the justice and the compassion and the beauty that the Creator intends.
Advent is not just a season, it’s an attitude. To have an Advent attitude is to claim God’s promise right when it seems things couldn’t get much worse. To lift up God’s promise of peace when the nations quake and violence rages and terror reigns. To cling to God’s promise when a diagnosis comes or a marriage ends or child is suffering or a parent is failing. To proclaim God’s promise with a forgiveness that stuns or a patience that unsettles or a hospitality that is increasingly counter-cultural. To live in God’s promise when it’s easier to give up altogether or it’s safer not to speak up for the kingdom way. To have an Advent attitude is to find yourself surrounded by the kind of darkness only the wilderness can bring and daring to believe that the light of God’s promise shines even in that darkness and the darkness will never overcome it.
I imagine that our family is not the only family that sits around the Thanksgiving table and remembers. It must have happened over and over again on Thursday. Every year the same stories are told of Thanksgivings past. Some from generations ago. Memories are shared of those who are no longer around the table and have gone on to glory. Laughter comes as more stories are told about when the children were young, when mom and dad were dating, when grandma forgot to take the giblets out of the bird, when the dog stole the turkey leg, and on and on and on. So much looking back.
A few hours after we finished eating and before we had dessert, we Facetimed family in Pittsburgh. My nephew and his wife were hosting. They have a two-year-old, The first of his generation, my brother’s grandson, the first great-grandchild to my parents, who are no longer alive. At one point the two-year-old stuck his whole face in the camera to wish us all a Happy Thanksgiving. The face of another generation. I miss my parents pretty much every day and yet that Davis Thanksgiving meal in Pittsburgh, a new location for the meal, a booster chair at the table, that meal has a future. In the grace and mercy of God, the Thanksgiving meal isn’t all about remembering; it has a future.
Just like this Table has a future. Of course it is a Table of remembering, remembering all that Christ has done. But this Table has a future. God’s future. It is the Table of God’s promise that in the fullness of time it will get better. It can all get better. Here where we proclaim his death until he comes again. The Lord is our righteousness. Who knew a meal could be prophetic.
Advent is not just a season. It’s not just an attitude. Advent is a faith statement about God’s future. That in the days to come our life is not in the hands of nations, or powers and principalities, or perpetrators of violence and terror, or Wall Street, or elected officials, or doctors, or college admissions committees, or staff at the Windrows or at Stonebridge. That our lives, your life and mine, rest firmly in the everlasting arms of the God of the prophets and the God of the Savior and the God of tomorrow.
Come, taste and see that the Lord is good. Today. Yesterday. And forever.
