We know Jesus by several names—Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus the Christ, Emmanuel. Each of these names proclaims something different about the nature and mission of Christ. But these are not the only biblical titles for Jesus. Throughout the seasons of Advent and Christmas at The Way, we will consider some of Jesus’ other names and what they reveal about his identity. Our hope is to deepen our understanding of who Jesus is, who he comes to be in our lives, and who we are as his disciples.
November 30 Alpha and Omega (Revelation 21:1-6)
December 7 Root of Jesse (Isaiah 11:1-5)
December 14 Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:2-7) Due to technical difficulties this sermon was not recorded.
December 21 Word of God (John 1:1-14)
December 24 The Babe in a Manger (Luke 2:1-20)
December 28 Bright Morning Star (Matthew 2:1-12, Revelation 22:16)
Monday, December 1, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
There Is a Season, November Worship Series:
Some of the loveliest words in the Old Testament are found in Ecclesiastes 3 beginning with, “To everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” The poem that follows paints a true picture of life complete with all its blessings and all its challenges. But it also proclaims the larger truth that through it all, God is. We live in God’s time. God is the One who was and is and is to be which means that all of life is under the providential care of God. In such uncertain times as these, it is important to remember that. No matter what we face, God is. During the month of November at The Way, we will consider:
A Time to Mourn, to Dance - November 2
A Time to Heal, a Time to Build Up - November 9
A Time to Reap, a Time to Sow - November 16
A Time to Live, a Time to Laugh - November 23
A Time to Mourn, to Dance - November 2
A Time to Heal, a Time to Build Up - November 9
A Time to Reap, a Time to Sow - November 16
A Time to Live, a Time to Laugh - November 23
Monday, October 20, 2008
Eucharist, October Sermon Series
Beginning on October 12, The Way will turn our attention to the Lord’s Table with this worship series called “Eucharist.” We share communion each week; it is the spiritual heart of our worship and the hallmark of our identity as the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Using biblical and global stories of table fellowship, we will explore how the Eucharist invites us to Remember, Reconcile, and Revive. This will be a meaningful and multi-sensory experience of worship and the Lord’s Supper.
October 12: Eucharist - Remember
October 19: Eucharist - Reconcile
October 26: Eucharist - Revive
October 12: Eucharist - Remember
October 19: Eucharist - Reconcile
October 26: Eucharist - Revive
World Communion Sunday, October 5
On Sunday, October 5, The Way will celebrate World Communion Sunday with a special worship service and community feast. World Communion Sunday was first celebrated in 1936 to highlight the unity of the Church around the Lord’s Table. While the Christian community is indeed separated by tradition, language, culture, and geography, we are still one body; we are the Body of Christ. And on this one special Sunday, we live out that truth at the Table all around the world. For our World Communion Sunday celebration, please bring food to share that is either a family meal tradition in your home or a dish that has special meaning for you. We will share some of these food stories as part of our worship service and then share the food itself at a fellowship dinner following the service. All are welcome; childcare is provided.
Sunday, October 5
Sunday, October 5
Monday, September 8, 2008
Amos: Get Uncomfortable Worship Series
We often talk of going to church as “meeting our needs” or “recharging us for the week to come.” While it is true that participating in church life does indeed meet our needs and prepare us for our Christian work out in the world, it is also true that going to church is not just about our comfort. In fact, the biblical prophets would argue that their job is to make people of faith uncomfortable. This September at The Way, we will consider Amos’ prophetic message. It is not easy to hear. It is not easy to take. And it will make us uncomfortable. So why put ourselves through it? Because Amos has words to say to us today; his message is as relevant now as it was when he first proclaimed it. Come, get uncomfortable this September with the prophet Amos!
September 7 God’s Call to a Prophet
September 14 God’s Call to Responsibility
September 21 God’s Call to Compassion
September 28 God’s Call to Hope
September 7 God’s Call to a Prophet
September 14 God’s Call to Responsibility
September 21 God’s Call to Compassion
September 28 God’s Call to Hope
Being a Stranger: By Jennie Churchman
I recently had the privilege of spending a Saturday volunteering with one of Tarrant County’s community organizations. It was a great day of putting my beliefs into action, and I’m glad I did it. But I also experienced what it is like to be an outsider, and I must say that it is not an easy role for me to play. I’m accustomed to leading volunteer groups, not joining one incognito. Worse than incognito, actually…more like awkward fifth wheel.
Walking into the gathering place alone was a little intimidating, but I tend to be an out-going person so I didn’t let it bother me that much. Because the room was already crowded with volunteers, I staked out a portion of the wall near the door to lean against as I waited with the others to receive our day’s work assignments. One older man came into the room, looked all around, sighed exasperatedly and said, “It’s the same group of people it always is.” I immediately felt defensive. What was I, chopped liver? We couldn’t have been standing any closer together without touching. I mean, I could see his pores! Could he not see me? What a way to make me feel valued and welcomed. I thought about letting it pass but instead said as cheerily as I could, “I’ve never been here before.”
At the lunch break, I had another moment of feeling like a true outsider, or rather, another moment of being put on the defensive for seeming like an outsider. Lunch was blackened pork chops with all the trimmings. It was excellent. I was happily eating my pork chop making small talk with the man next to me when a woman across the way interrupted me to say, “This is Texas. We don’t eat it like that. We pick it up and use our fingers.” First of all, I had been doing dirty, sweaty work all morning, and while I had washed my hands, I still didn’t feel like eating with them. A knife and fork suited me just fine. Second of all, I don’t like to gnaw on bones. I don’t eat ribs for the same reason. It grosses me out—that’s a little too close to the truth for me. I’d rather pretend that tasty bit of meat I’ve just eaten came off my fork, not off some animal’s bone. Gnawing on bones makes me feel like a wild dog, and believe me, no woman wants to feel like a dog.
And that’s not even including the fact that I’m about as Texan as they come these days. My grandfather’s grandparents—both sets—immigrated into Texas from Germany back in the 1850s and 60s. My grandmother’s grandfather was a nineteenth-century frontier Disciples preacher serving several Texas country churches including North Texas’ own Pilot Point Christian Church. On my father’s side, my grandfather’s grandfather relocated the family to Texas after shooting a man in Alabama. Family lore also tells it that as the wagons made their way into West Texas, Native American scouts watched my family from the bluffs above the trail. Shoot-outs and Native Americans…does it get any more Texan than that? I don’t know anything about my paternal grandmother’s side of the family, but haven’t I proved my point? Please don’t try to argue I’m not Texan simply because I choose not to gnaw on a bone. I just ignored the woman and kept eating.
I share all of this with you not to complain—well, maybe I’m complaining a little bit. But the message I really want to convey is how very hard it is to be a stranger. How very hard it is to walk into a room full of other people who seem to know each other and who don’t seem all that interested in getting to know me. This experience has made me realize how visitors to our church must sometimes feel—like true outsiders or true strangers rather than honored guests or, more accurately, brothers and sisters in Christ.
It is not easy to find that right balance between warm welcome and off-putting forwardness. I recognize that. And I also recognize that maybe I was a little too defensive in both cases. But I consider this experience to be a significant lesson in hospitality. I now know what it’s like to be on the other side of hospitality, and I want to make sure no one I come in contact with on a Sunday morning or a Sunday evening feels the way I felt that day.
We’re going to be hearing a lot about hospitality in the next few weeks at Northway, and I’m grateful for that. I consider hospitality to be one of the most important spiritual disciplines we can share together as a community. I hope every member of Northway and The Way takes advantage of this time—with its sermons, seminars, and studies—to focus on the true meaning of hospitality and how we can live it out every single day. But I also wish every member of Northway and The Way could have the same experience I had that Saturday in Fort Worth. In my opinion, there is no better way to learn about hospitality. Become a stranger, and then you’ll know how important hospitality really is.
Copyright 2008
Walking into the gathering place alone was a little intimidating, but I tend to be an out-going person so I didn’t let it bother me that much. Because the room was already crowded with volunteers, I staked out a portion of the wall near the door to lean against as I waited with the others to receive our day’s work assignments. One older man came into the room, looked all around, sighed exasperatedly and said, “It’s the same group of people it always is.” I immediately felt defensive. What was I, chopped liver? We couldn’t have been standing any closer together without touching. I mean, I could see his pores! Could he not see me? What a way to make me feel valued and welcomed. I thought about letting it pass but instead said as cheerily as I could, “I’ve never been here before.”
At the lunch break, I had another moment of feeling like a true outsider, or rather, another moment of being put on the defensive for seeming like an outsider. Lunch was blackened pork chops with all the trimmings. It was excellent. I was happily eating my pork chop making small talk with the man next to me when a woman across the way interrupted me to say, “This is Texas. We don’t eat it like that. We pick it up and use our fingers.” First of all, I had been doing dirty, sweaty work all morning, and while I had washed my hands, I still didn’t feel like eating with them. A knife and fork suited me just fine. Second of all, I don’t like to gnaw on bones. I don’t eat ribs for the same reason. It grosses me out—that’s a little too close to the truth for me. I’d rather pretend that tasty bit of meat I’ve just eaten came off my fork, not off some animal’s bone. Gnawing on bones makes me feel like a wild dog, and believe me, no woman wants to feel like a dog.
And that’s not even including the fact that I’m about as Texan as they come these days. My grandfather’s grandparents—both sets—immigrated into Texas from Germany back in the 1850s and 60s. My grandmother’s grandfather was a nineteenth-century frontier Disciples preacher serving several Texas country churches including North Texas’ own Pilot Point Christian Church. On my father’s side, my grandfather’s grandfather relocated the family to Texas after shooting a man in Alabama. Family lore also tells it that as the wagons made their way into West Texas, Native American scouts watched my family from the bluffs above the trail. Shoot-outs and Native Americans…does it get any more Texan than that? I don’t know anything about my paternal grandmother’s side of the family, but haven’t I proved my point? Please don’t try to argue I’m not Texan simply because I choose not to gnaw on a bone. I just ignored the woman and kept eating.
I share all of this with you not to complain—well, maybe I’m complaining a little bit. But the message I really want to convey is how very hard it is to be a stranger. How very hard it is to walk into a room full of other people who seem to know each other and who don’t seem all that interested in getting to know me. This experience has made me realize how visitors to our church must sometimes feel—like true outsiders or true strangers rather than honored guests or, more accurately, brothers and sisters in Christ.
It is not easy to find that right balance between warm welcome and off-putting forwardness. I recognize that. And I also recognize that maybe I was a little too defensive in both cases. But I consider this experience to be a significant lesson in hospitality. I now know what it’s like to be on the other side of hospitality, and I want to make sure no one I come in contact with on a Sunday morning or a Sunday evening feels the way I felt that day.
We’re going to be hearing a lot about hospitality in the next few weeks at Northway, and I’m grateful for that. I consider hospitality to be one of the most important spiritual disciplines we can share together as a community. I hope every member of Northway and The Way takes advantage of this time—with its sermons, seminars, and studies—to focus on the true meaning of hospitality and how we can live it out every single day. But I also wish every member of Northway and The Way could have the same experience I had that Saturday in Fort Worth. In my opinion, there is no better way to learn about hospitality. Become a stranger, and then you’ll know how important hospitality really is.
Copyright 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
The Association of Disciples Musicians Meets The Way
By Greg Nunn and Chrissy Bird
The Way was privileged to be part of this year’s gathering of the Association of Disciples Musicians (ADM) in Tulsa. Our experience there was fantastic—inspiring, life-giving, challenging, reinvigorating—as we taught several workshops and led one worship service. Below are two reflections on The Way’s participation at ADM. Greg Nunn, ADM’s current president, wrote the first one about the worship service we led. Our own Chrissy Bird wrote the second.
By Greg Nunn
Using a guitar acoustical accompaniment to “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” brought the congregation easily into the spirit of the worship service. Then, I stood to share in the several unique worship experiences offered to us. I had a lump in my throat wondering if these diverse, respectable, educated, veteran worship planners would embrace the opportunities provided. Lighting candles? Certainly. Meditation while prostrate on a pillow? Possibly. Creating art? Maybe.
I decided I would be the lone dancer leaping with streamer sticks across the narthex. I slowly cracked the door to accept my fate and had to dodge a leaping ADM'er and felt streamers gracefully brushing across my forehead. Then another dancer twirled passed with joy painted on her face. I had to pirouette while grabbing for my streamers to keep myself—and several others—on our feet! I found myself actually rejoicing in dance! Soon I returned to the sanctuary where people were in worship; quietly moving between stations, sitting in reflection and prayer with crayons in hand, building stained glass, lighting candles, all sharing a smile and a nod as they passed.
I had comments from several people about how nice the worship experience was that Tuesday. I had several friends come to me and tell my they were surprised by how personally moving Tuesday's Emerging Worship experiences were. It surprised me too. The evaluation sheets have circles around 'emerging worship' with short phrases applauding the experience—lots of nice responses. One person expressed concern that ADM will continue to address contemporary music. There was however, one critique: the person liked the emerging worship, but said the crayons had to go. Personally, I was too busy dancing to notice.
By Chrissy Bird
Question or Statement: How Great Is Our God
“How Great Is Our God” was one of the songs that we sang as we led Tuesday’s worship for the Association of Disciples Musicians Convention. Wow – a room full of musicians praising God with their gift of song. The Way was honored to receive an invitation by the ADM to come join them to teach and lead this amazing group in a style new to most of them. The weekend was filled with incredible workshops teaching about Choral singing and music, Handbell ringing, Organ playing, leading youth in music, and also about the new comers – those of us bringing “Emerging” Worship.
Our own, Jennie Churchman and Kristal Seid, led many workshops covering the gamut of, what we prefer to call, Experiential Worship. Bringing Back the Easter Vigil, Special Liturgical Worship, Enhancing Worship with Technology – these are some of the 17 workshops that Jennie and Kristal prepared and presented during the weekend. I watched them in action as I participated in their classes – I cannot adequately express with words how proud I am to be associated with people of their caliber. It was truly a blessing to be able to say, “Yes, I am with them.”
After learning about Emerging Worship, 150 music and worship leaders came together to experience worship and as Jennie did what Jennie does best, the Holy Spirit was clearly present in that room. Some of the attendees were apprehensive, as the majority had never experienced this type worship before, and we weren’t sure exactly how it would be received. But we gave them a full-on The Way worship experience. Wow – did I say wow, ‘cause I meant WOW!!! IT WAS AMAZING!!! We sang songs – traditional, contemporary, and blended, we had a sermon on Getting Lost in Worship and then we did just that – with 6 prayer stations to get Lost in God’s Wonder, God’s Love, and in Praise.
We prayed by watching images of His creation and creating for Him a graffiti wall of images and words that came to us to thank Him for this gift. We prayed with Acrostics – writing a prayer to thank God for his Grace. We prayed with joyous music and dance. We prayed with traditional candles and silence. We prayed with the scents of anointing oil, reading the story of Mary washing his feet, preparing him for what was to come and thanking God for His willingness to give the ultimate sacrifice so that we could be forgiven. We prayed with mandalas, an ancient form of worship where a circle representing our whole self is colored and designed as we were by our creator.
The sanctuary was covered by grown men and women draped on the chancel and sitting on the floor – coloring! Opening themselves to God in ways they may not have done since they were children! But one of the most incredible experiences of all was the joint formation of our community mandala. When we planned out our service of senses and experiences, none of us could have imagined how beautiful this creation would turn out. Together we designed a tangible symbol of our community – a circle representing all of us, separately and collectively.
Traditional vs. Emerging Worship – Mindy Cunningham said it best when addressing our Christian Women’s Fellowship – neither is better… they’re just different. Both offer an experience with our Lord and I am so thankful that we were given the chance to offer an additional approach to enhance each one’s journey to the heart of God.
So, the answer is yes. How Great is Our God… it is both a question and a statement.
It is a question that we are asked by a world of believers and non-believers and a statement that we must show the world everyday.
The Way was privileged to be part of this year’s gathering of the Association of Disciples Musicians (ADM) in Tulsa. Our experience there was fantastic—inspiring, life-giving, challenging, reinvigorating—as we taught several workshops and led one worship service. Below are two reflections on The Way’s participation at ADM. Greg Nunn, ADM’s current president, wrote the first one about the worship service we led. Our own Chrissy Bird wrote the second.
By Greg Nunn
Using a guitar acoustical accompaniment to “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” brought the congregation easily into the spirit of the worship service. Then, I stood to share in the several unique worship experiences offered to us. I had a lump in my throat wondering if these diverse, respectable, educated, veteran worship planners would embrace the opportunities provided. Lighting candles? Certainly. Meditation while prostrate on a pillow? Possibly. Creating art? Maybe.
I decided I would be the lone dancer leaping with streamer sticks across the narthex. I slowly cracked the door to accept my fate and had to dodge a leaping ADM'er and felt streamers gracefully brushing across my forehead. Then another dancer twirled passed with joy painted on her face. I had to pirouette while grabbing for my streamers to keep myself—and several others—on our feet! I found myself actually rejoicing in dance! Soon I returned to the sanctuary where people were in worship; quietly moving between stations, sitting in reflection and prayer with crayons in hand, building stained glass, lighting candles, all sharing a smile and a nod as they passed.
I had comments from several people about how nice the worship experience was that Tuesday. I had several friends come to me and tell my they were surprised by how personally moving Tuesday's Emerging Worship experiences were. It surprised me too. The evaluation sheets have circles around 'emerging worship' with short phrases applauding the experience—lots of nice responses. One person expressed concern that ADM will continue to address contemporary music. There was however, one critique: the person liked the emerging worship, but said the crayons had to go. Personally, I was too busy dancing to notice.
By Chrissy Bird
Question or Statement: How Great Is Our God
“How Great Is Our God” was one of the songs that we sang as we led Tuesday’s worship for the Association of Disciples Musicians Convention. Wow – a room full of musicians praising God with their gift of song. The Way was honored to receive an invitation by the ADM to come join them to teach and lead this amazing group in a style new to most of them. The weekend was filled with incredible workshops teaching about Choral singing and music, Handbell ringing, Organ playing, leading youth in music, and also about the new comers – those of us bringing “Emerging” Worship.
Our own, Jennie Churchman and Kristal Seid, led many workshops covering the gamut of, what we prefer to call, Experiential Worship. Bringing Back the Easter Vigil, Special Liturgical Worship, Enhancing Worship with Technology – these are some of the 17 workshops that Jennie and Kristal prepared and presented during the weekend. I watched them in action as I participated in their classes – I cannot adequately express with words how proud I am to be associated with people of their caliber. It was truly a blessing to be able to say, “Yes, I am with them.”
After learning about Emerging Worship, 150 music and worship leaders came together to experience worship and as Jennie did what Jennie does best, the Holy Spirit was clearly present in that room. Some of the attendees were apprehensive, as the majority had never experienced this type worship before, and we weren’t sure exactly how it would be received. But we gave them a full-on The Way worship experience. Wow – did I say wow, ‘cause I meant WOW!!! IT WAS AMAZING!!! We sang songs – traditional, contemporary, and blended, we had a sermon on Getting Lost in Worship and then we did just that – with 6 prayer stations to get Lost in God’s Wonder, God’s Love, and in Praise.
We prayed by watching images of His creation and creating for Him a graffiti wall of images and words that came to us to thank Him for this gift. We prayed with Acrostics – writing a prayer to thank God for his Grace. We prayed with joyous music and dance. We prayed with traditional candles and silence. We prayed with the scents of anointing oil, reading the story of Mary washing his feet, preparing him for what was to come and thanking God for His willingness to give the ultimate sacrifice so that we could be forgiven. We prayed with mandalas, an ancient form of worship where a circle representing our whole self is colored and designed as we were by our creator.
The sanctuary was covered by grown men and women draped on the chancel and sitting on the floor – coloring! Opening themselves to God in ways they may not have done since they were children! But one of the most incredible experiences of all was the joint formation of our community mandala. When we planned out our service of senses and experiences, none of us could have imagined how beautiful this creation would turn out. Together we designed a tangible symbol of our community – a circle representing all of us, separately and collectively.
Traditional vs. Emerging Worship – Mindy Cunningham said it best when addressing our Christian Women’s Fellowship – neither is better… they’re just different. Both offer an experience with our Lord and I am so thankful that we were given the chance to offer an additional approach to enhance each one’s journey to the heart of God.
So, the answer is yes. How Great is Our God… it is both a question and a statement.
It is a question that we are asked by a world of believers and non-believers and a statement that we must show the world everyday.
Monday, July 14, 2008
All Things Considered Sermon Series
All Things Considered Series: Every summer at The Way, we take time to consider your requests—those unanswered faith questions, those difficult scriptures, those spiritual musings and wonderings of yours. This is always one of the most varied and fun worship series of our year. Consider being a part of “All Things Considered” this summer!
July 20 The Psalms, Rev. Carolyn Bullard preaching
July 27 The Psalms, Rev. Carolyn Bullard preaching
August 3 What’s the Story? Contradictions and Challenges in Scripture
August 10 What about Sin? If God made us, then why do we sin?
(due to unforseen complications the previous 4 sermons are unavailable for download...sorry!)
August 17 How Beautiful (Is the Body of Christ): Diversity and Community
August 24 Wake Up! An Open Letter to the Church at Sardis (and in America)
August 31 Sacrificial Atonement and Salvation
July 20 The Psalms, Rev. Carolyn Bullard preaching
July 27 The Psalms, Rev. Carolyn Bullard preaching
August 3 What’s the Story? Contradictions and Challenges in Scripture
August 10 What about Sin? If God made us, then why do we sin?
(due to unforseen complications the previous 4 sermons are unavailable for download...sorry!)
August 17 How Beautiful (Is the Body of Christ): Diversity and Community
August 24 Wake Up! An Open Letter to the Church at Sardis (and in America)
August 31 Sacrificial Atonement and Salvation
Monday, July 7, 2008
Take a Risk
Well, Mama Duck died. Of all the potential disaster scenarios with these ducks that I obsessed about over the past two months, I never once considered the possibility that she might die. This is not how I wanted my Great Duck Adventure of 2008 to turn out. One day I noticed she was behaving strangely, and by that night she was dead.
I had to bury her by myself the next afternoon because Lindsay was out of town again. I’ve never buried an animal before. I had no idea how hard it is to dig a grave. It took me two hours. (Clearly I need to work on my upper body strength. Or maybe I just need better tools. I’m going with the tools—it’s easier on the ego.)
By the time I finished digging, I was hot, sweaty, tired, and emotionally drained. And I felt like a fool. Why was I so upset over a duck? She wasn’t even a pet, but here I was, a blubbering fool. The answer came to me fairly quickly: I was so upset because I allowed myself to get involved. I took a risk—gave of my time, my energy, my resources, my heart. I took a risk to care, and that means I took a risk to feel.
It is much easier to go through life without caring, without feeling. It is much easier to stay aloof, distant, detached. It is much easier, but it is not what we are called to be. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called to be like Christ. “Christian,” after all, means “little Christ.” Jesus wasn’t aloof. He wasn’t distant. He wasn’t detached. He was one of us; he was one with us. That is incarnation.
When Jesus interacted with others, he took time to see them, to hear them, to be with them. We, on the other hand, tend to rush through our days with barely a glance at those around us—even those closest to us. Well, it’s past time to change that. We’ve got to slow down and take the time to see, hear, and be with those God has put in our lives. That’s what it means to be the Body of Christ.
My neighbors and I have bonded over these ducks. Before, I knew their names but that was only because I was careful to write them down when we first moved into the neighborhood. I knew their names, but I would not have recognized their faces. That all changed with the ducks. Now we have been in each other’s homes, we have shared food, we have shared time—and we’ve even shared a few tears over Mama Duck. (At least I’m not the only emotional one on the street!) We have created community, and dare I say it, we have started to care about each other.
Lindsay and I moved into this neighborhood almost exactly one year ago. Two pastors who should have known better remained aloof, distant, and detached from our next-door neighbors. Only now have we become connected. Only now have we gotten involved. Only now have we taken the risk to let someone new into our lives. And maybe now, with God’s help, we can finally be a true reflection of Jesus Christ to our neighbors. All because of one family of ducks. Thanks be to God!
Copywright 2008 J. Churchman
I had to bury her by myself the next afternoon because Lindsay was out of town again. I’ve never buried an animal before. I had no idea how hard it is to dig a grave. It took me two hours. (Clearly I need to work on my upper body strength. Or maybe I just need better tools. I’m going with the tools—it’s easier on the ego.)
By the time I finished digging, I was hot, sweaty, tired, and emotionally drained. And I felt like a fool. Why was I so upset over a duck? She wasn’t even a pet, but here I was, a blubbering fool. The answer came to me fairly quickly: I was so upset because I allowed myself to get involved. I took a risk—gave of my time, my energy, my resources, my heart. I took a risk to care, and that means I took a risk to feel.
It is much easier to go through life without caring, without feeling. It is much easier to stay aloof, distant, detached. It is much easier, but it is not what we are called to be. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called to be like Christ. “Christian,” after all, means “little Christ.” Jesus wasn’t aloof. He wasn’t distant. He wasn’t detached. He was one of us; he was one with us. That is incarnation.
When Jesus interacted with others, he took time to see them, to hear them, to be with them. We, on the other hand, tend to rush through our days with barely a glance at those around us—even those closest to us. Well, it’s past time to change that. We’ve got to slow down and take the time to see, hear, and be with those God has put in our lives. That’s what it means to be the Body of Christ.
My neighbors and I have bonded over these ducks. Before, I knew their names but that was only because I was careful to write them down when we first moved into the neighborhood. I knew their names, but I would not have recognized their faces. That all changed with the ducks. Now we have been in each other’s homes, we have shared food, we have shared time—and we’ve even shared a few tears over Mama Duck. (At least I’m not the only emotional one on the street!) We have created community, and dare I say it, we have started to care about each other.
Lindsay and I moved into this neighborhood almost exactly one year ago. Two pastors who should have known better remained aloof, distant, and detached from our next-door neighbors. Only now have we become connected. Only now have we gotten involved. Only now have we taken the risk to let someone new into our lives. And maybe now, with God’s help, we can finally be a true reflection of Jesus Christ to our neighbors. All because of one family of ducks. Thanks be to God!
Copywright 2008 J. Churchman
Monday, June 16, 2008
Revelation Worship Series
Revelation has intrigued Christians for centuries. Its mystery captivates us; its imagery frightens us. Indeed, Revelation is a compelling biblical book. This summer at The Way, we will focus on the Book of Revelation. Our aim is to become more familiar with its content and to experience some of its sensory nature. We also hope to discover what Revelation has to say to us today. While each Sunday of this worship series will have a specific focus text, you may wish to read the entire book according to the following schedule:
June 15 Revelation (Chapters 1-3)
June 22 Intervention (Chapters 4-7) Do to a technical problem this sermon was not recorded
June 29 Judgment (Chapters 8-14)
July 6 Question (Chapters 15-18)
July 13 Redemption (Chapters 19-22)
June 15 Revelation (Chapters 1-3)
June 22 Intervention (Chapters 4-7) Do to a technical problem this sermon was not recorded
June 29 Judgment (Chapters 8-14)
July 6 Question (Chapters 15-18)
July 13 Redemption (Chapters 19-22)
Monday, June 9, 2008
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms
I sure am glad that God is God and I am not. I just couldn’t take the pressure. How does God stand it? Anxiously watching as we muddle our way through life? We make mistakes. We expose ourselves—sometimes completely obliviously—to untold dangers. We are just so vulnerable. Oh the stress! Oh the anxiety! Oh the absolute emotional torture! Whew. It’s a good thing that God is God and I am not.
Let me explain why this is coming to the fore at this moment in my life. You see, I am now responsible for a precious family of ducks. Twelve darling tiny yellow ducklings hatched in my front yard just over three weeks ago. Not wanting to interfere too much with their natural instincts, I left them in the front. But that was torture for me. In between dogs, hawks, cats, over-zealous children, and one creepy guy in a black Ford, I hardly got any rest that first week. My husband finally took pity on me and moved them into the backyard. Finally I could relax! They were safe. They were fed. They were happy. And Mama Duck could fly over the fence any time she wanted a break. It was a perfect solution.
Until one Saturday morning we awoke to find one of the ducklings missing. It was just gone. No trace. Was it a cat? Very likely, but it also could have been any number of other predators. I fretted all day about whether or not it was wise to keep them locked in the back. Perhaps Mama would feel safer—and actually be safer—in her original nest out front. After vacillating repeatedly all day—second-guessing myself and then second-guessing my second guesses—I let them out about 7:15 that evening. I thought for sure that Mama would head straight for her old nest. It was bedtime, after all, for the ducklings and dinnertime for Rachel and me. (Unfortunately, Lindsay was out of town, which becomes a very crucial detail later in this story.)
Mama went to the nest. Babies followed. Rachel and I turned to go inside. But then Mama got back out of the nest and proceeded to cross the street, waddling toward the park. Mama! What are you doing? It’s bedtime! Evidently, it was swim time because into the pond they all went. They swam around awhile, tried to get out once, got chased around by a mean goose, and eventually settled on the opposite side of the pond from our house. And it gets worse. With the goose in hot pursuit, Mama had no other option than to sit on the six-inch wide ledge of the water overflow pit. (I’m sure it has a technical name, but as I’m not an engineer, “water overflow pit” is as good as you’re going to get.) It’s a giant open concrete pit in the middle of the pond where excess water can go. And all the babies were perched on the six-inch wide ledge along with Mama.
By this time it was getting dark. Rachel and I decided to walk around the pond and try to coax Mama back to shore and to the safety of our house. As we got close, we understood why Mama decided to spend the night in such a precarious place. One of the babies had fallen down into the pit—an approximately eighteen-foot drop. I could hear its pitiful chirp echoing up into the night air. My heart sank. They were all doomed. In my mind’s eye I could see each duckling slipping down into that pit as the night wore on. After everything we had gone through to keep them alive, we were going to lose them all in one fell swoop just because I gave in to my second guesses. I could hardly stand to be inside my own skin. I felt like crying and wailing and hyperventilating all at the same time. Rachel saw the insanity in my face and said, “I wish Mama had never had her babies in our yard.”
I staggered home and placed a panicked call to Lindsay. I got his voicemail. I placed a panicked call to my brother. “I thought we decided that you would keep them in the yard tonight.” Not helpful. I called the Fire Department. “We don’t do that.” I called Animal Control. “It is after hours. If you are having an animal emergency, call 911.” I called 911. “I’m having an animal emergency.” “What kind of animal emergency?” “Well, you see, I’ve been taking care of this family of ducks and now they’re stuck on the other side of the pond.” I sounded stupid even to my own ears. “They won’t come out for that,” she said.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “If they won’t come out for a stranded family of ducks, then maybe they’ll come out for a stranded crazy lady.” By now it was after 11:00 PM. I grabbed my laundry basket, a yardstick, my cell phone and Rachel’s hand and said, “Come on Rachel. This may be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m going to do it anyway.” When we got to the other side of the pond, I left Rachel on the sidewalk, taught her how to call 911 on the cell phone, and made my way down to the shore. I tested the depth with the yardstick, prepared to go in with anything below the neck. I was willing to do a lot for those ducks, but I wasn’t going to tread water in a lake filled with who-knows-what in the middle of the night.
To my great relief, the water was less than three feet deep. Piece of cake! In I went. And into the laundry basket went ten befuddled ducklings. Giddy with the success of our rescue mission, Rachel and I carried the ducklings home and put them in her bathroom. Then we rearmed with a flashlight, my neighbors’ pool net, the trusty laundry basket, and the cell phone, of course. My plan was to shine the light down into the pit and scoop up the last duckling with the pool net. Mama would surely follow. But when I got over to the pit, there was no duckling—only one dead turtle. And yet, I could still hear the chirp. Could there be another way down there? I decided to check it out.
Dodging what I am fairly sure was a water moccasin, I made my way through the creek and into the drainage tunnel. And there was Mama with the last duckling! We rescued the duckling first and then went back with the kitty carrier for Mama. Finally at 12:15 AM, Mama and the Eleven were reunited in Rachel’s bathroom, and Rachel and I sat down to supper. Twenty minutes and a shower later, I sank into bed—exhausted but exhilarated—and very grateful to spend the night safe in the everlasting arms of God.
Copywrite 2008 J Churchman
Let me explain why this is coming to the fore at this moment in my life. You see, I am now responsible for a precious family of ducks. Twelve darling tiny yellow ducklings hatched in my front yard just over three weeks ago. Not wanting to interfere too much with their natural instincts, I left them in the front. But that was torture for me. In between dogs, hawks, cats, over-zealous children, and one creepy guy in a black Ford, I hardly got any rest that first week. My husband finally took pity on me and moved them into the backyard. Finally I could relax! They were safe. They were fed. They were happy. And Mama Duck could fly over the fence any time she wanted a break. It was a perfect solution.
Until one Saturday morning we awoke to find one of the ducklings missing. It was just gone. No trace. Was it a cat? Very likely, but it also could have been any number of other predators. I fretted all day about whether or not it was wise to keep them locked in the back. Perhaps Mama would feel safer—and actually be safer—in her original nest out front. After vacillating repeatedly all day—second-guessing myself and then second-guessing my second guesses—I let them out about 7:15 that evening. I thought for sure that Mama would head straight for her old nest. It was bedtime, after all, for the ducklings and dinnertime for Rachel and me. (Unfortunately, Lindsay was out of town, which becomes a very crucial detail later in this story.)
Mama went to the nest. Babies followed. Rachel and I turned to go inside. But then Mama got back out of the nest and proceeded to cross the street, waddling toward the park. Mama! What are you doing? It’s bedtime! Evidently, it was swim time because into the pond they all went. They swam around awhile, tried to get out once, got chased around by a mean goose, and eventually settled on the opposite side of the pond from our house. And it gets worse. With the goose in hot pursuit, Mama had no other option than to sit on the six-inch wide ledge of the water overflow pit. (I’m sure it has a technical name, but as I’m not an engineer, “water overflow pit” is as good as you’re going to get.) It’s a giant open concrete pit in the middle of the pond where excess water can go. And all the babies were perched on the six-inch wide ledge along with Mama.
By this time it was getting dark. Rachel and I decided to walk around the pond and try to coax Mama back to shore and to the safety of our house. As we got close, we understood why Mama decided to spend the night in such a precarious place. One of the babies had fallen down into the pit—an approximately eighteen-foot drop. I could hear its pitiful chirp echoing up into the night air. My heart sank. They were all doomed. In my mind’s eye I could see each duckling slipping down into that pit as the night wore on. After everything we had gone through to keep them alive, we were going to lose them all in one fell swoop just because I gave in to my second guesses. I could hardly stand to be inside my own skin. I felt like crying and wailing and hyperventilating all at the same time. Rachel saw the insanity in my face and said, “I wish Mama had never had her babies in our yard.”
I staggered home and placed a panicked call to Lindsay. I got his voicemail. I placed a panicked call to my brother. “I thought we decided that you would keep them in the yard tonight.” Not helpful. I called the Fire Department. “We don’t do that.” I called Animal Control. “It is after hours. If you are having an animal emergency, call 911.” I called 911. “I’m having an animal emergency.” “What kind of animal emergency?” “Well, you see, I’ve been taking care of this family of ducks and now they’re stuck on the other side of the pond.” I sounded stupid even to my own ears. “They won’t come out for that,” she said.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “If they won’t come out for a stranded family of ducks, then maybe they’ll come out for a stranded crazy lady.” By now it was after 11:00 PM. I grabbed my laundry basket, a yardstick, my cell phone and Rachel’s hand and said, “Come on Rachel. This may be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m going to do it anyway.” When we got to the other side of the pond, I left Rachel on the sidewalk, taught her how to call 911 on the cell phone, and made my way down to the shore. I tested the depth with the yardstick, prepared to go in with anything below the neck. I was willing to do a lot for those ducks, but I wasn’t going to tread water in a lake filled with who-knows-what in the middle of the night.
To my great relief, the water was less than three feet deep. Piece of cake! In I went. And into the laundry basket went ten befuddled ducklings. Giddy with the success of our rescue mission, Rachel and I carried the ducklings home and put them in her bathroom. Then we rearmed with a flashlight, my neighbors’ pool net, the trusty laundry basket, and the cell phone, of course. My plan was to shine the light down into the pit and scoop up the last duckling with the pool net. Mama would surely follow. But when I got over to the pit, there was no duckling—only one dead turtle. And yet, I could still hear the chirp. Could there be another way down there? I decided to check it out.
Dodging what I am fairly sure was a water moccasin, I made my way through the creek and into the drainage tunnel. And there was Mama with the last duckling! We rescued the duckling first and then went back with the kitty carrier for Mama. Finally at 12:15 AM, Mama and the Eleven were reunited in Rachel’s bathroom, and Rachel and I sat down to supper. Twenty minutes and a shower later, I sank into bed—exhausted but exhilarated—and very grateful to spend the night safe in the everlasting arms of God.
Copywrite 2008 J Churchman
Gina Biddle, Guest Preacher
On Sunday, June 8, The Way welcomes Gina Biddle as she leads our worship service and brings us the word while Jennie concludes her Walk to Emmaus. Gina is a member of Northway Christian Church and a hospital chaplain. She will preach on the Emmaus story from Luke 24.
Sunday, June 8
Sunday, June 8
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Mission Possible Sermon Series
Our vision for The Way is to be an authentic community of faith committed to Christian discipleship and spiritual formation through experiential worship, challenging Bible study, and hands-on mission. As we begin our fourth year of ministry together, we have been taking a closer look at the three basic elements of our vision statement for "The Way". In April and May we considered the worship life of our community and study. For the next three weeks we will focus on mission.
May 18 Mission Possible: Tell the Story (Evangelism)
Do to a technical problem this sermon was not recorded.
May 25 Mission Possible: Be the Story (Service)
June 1 Mission Possible: Live the Story (Discipleship)
May 18 Mission Possible: Tell the Story (Evangelism)
Do to a technical problem this sermon was not recorded.
May 25 Mission Possible: Be the Story (Service)
June 1 Mission Possible: Live the Story (Discipleship)
Monday, May 5, 2008
Worth It: By Jennie Churchman
“This is crazy,” I thought when my alarm went off. “This is crazy,” I said to myself as I pulled on my work out clothes. “This is crazy,” backing out of the garage into the darkness. “This is crazy,” driving down a completely abandoned neighborhood street. “This is crazy,” walking into the room where about 35 others were gathered. “We are all crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.” Boot Camp began at my neighborhood YMCA on Monday, April 7. Boot Camp, as in led by an honest to goodness member of our Armed Forces, three days a week for a month, from 5:30 until 6:30 AM. Crazy. But I did it.
I kind of had to do it. After I convinced my husband Lindsay that February’s Boot Camp would be good for him, I was sort of locked in. “You are going to sign up for that, aren’t you?” he asked in late March. I tried to play dumb, but it didn’t work. Instead I worked. Hard. I was sore all over. I was zombie tired most of the month from getting up so early (and staying up so late). I don’t think I’ll ever do it again, unless they move the class to, say 7:30-8:30 AM—a much more reasonable hour of the day.
I am glad I did it, and I’m proud of myself for finishing it. Full disclosure: I did sleep in one Monday; I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed. (Sundays are hard, you know.) But still, I did it. And I relearned an important life lesson: The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get. Physical fitness? Improved cardio-vascular health? Less-flabby triceps? Worth it.
My fledgling garden isn’t doing so well. I had such high hopes. In February I ordered a truckload of compost and tilled it in with my existing soil and a few other recommended amendments. I was so hopeful. I planted asparagus, lettuce, spinach, carrots, onions, and potatoes. Everything sprouted, and I was proud of myself. But the lettuce and the spinach sprouts stopped developing. The carrots and onions are just barely hanging on. The potatoes looked pretty good until this morning when I noticed a few yellow leaves with black spots.
I am so discouraged. In fact, it’s hard for me even to think about my garden without tearing up. On the other hand, deep down I knew I would have a steep learning curve. I’ve never gardened at all; I just had high hopes. And I have high hopes that I’ll do better next year. My soil will be a little healthier, and my knowledge will be a little deeper. It’s going to be hard work, and I may get more discouraged still. But it will be worth it. The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.
I had the great joy of meeting United Methodist Bishop Hee-Soo Jung and his wife Rev. Im Jung at a retreat in early April. They are both so peaceful, so anchored, so full of radiant Christian love. When I listened to either of them speak about the spiritual life, I felt like I was living out Psalm 23. They took me to the good green grass where I rested and feasted. They led me beside living streams where I was renewed and restored. Their words and insights—spoken with their gentle Korean-accented tones—flooded over me rich as anointing oil, covering me with God’s grace. They became guides and mentors for me on how to live spirit-filled lives.
But the truth is their lives have been hard. They have endured much pain and much sacrifice. They radiate joy now not because they have known no heartache but because they have chosen to lift their hearts up to the Lord. They have chosen joy. They have chosen peace. They have chosen life. These may have been hard choices, but they were all worth it. The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.
We too can radiate Christian love. We can radiate joy. We can radiate life. We can radiate peace. But that means hard work. It means not allowing ourselves to get pulled into petty arguments or pointless pursuits. It means giving our time, our hearts, our wills to God. It means fully engaging in the spiritual disciplines of prayer, study, silence, service, and worship.
Do you want a deeper connection to God? Do you want a more fulfilling Christian life? Do you want your faith to make a difference? The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.
copyright 2008 J Churchman
I kind of had to do it. After I convinced my husband Lindsay that February’s Boot Camp would be good for him, I was sort of locked in. “You are going to sign up for that, aren’t you?” he asked in late March. I tried to play dumb, but it didn’t work. Instead I worked. Hard. I was sore all over. I was zombie tired most of the month from getting up so early (and staying up so late). I don’t think I’ll ever do it again, unless they move the class to, say 7:30-8:30 AM—a much more reasonable hour of the day.
I am glad I did it, and I’m proud of myself for finishing it. Full disclosure: I did sleep in one Monday; I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed. (Sundays are hard, you know.) But still, I did it. And I relearned an important life lesson: The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get. Physical fitness? Improved cardio-vascular health? Less-flabby triceps? Worth it.
My fledgling garden isn’t doing so well. I had such high hopes. In February I ordered a truckload of compost and tilled it in with my existing soil and a few other recommended amendments. I was so hopeful. I planted asparagus, lettuce, spinach, carrots, onions, and potatoes. Everything sprouted, and I was proud of myself. But the lettuce and the spinach sprouts stopped developing. The carrots and onions are just barely hanging on. The potatoes looked pretty good until this morning when I noticed a few yellow leaves with black spots.
I am so discouraged. In fact, it’s hard for me even to think about my garden without tearing up. On the other hand, deep down I knew I would have a steep learning curve. I’ve never gardened at all; I just had high hopes. And I have high hopes that I’ll do better next year. My soil will be a little healthier, and my knowledge will be a little deeper. It’s going to be hard work, and I may get more discouraged still. But it will be worth it. The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.
I had the great joy of meeting United Methodist Bishop Hee-Soo Jung and his wife Rev. Im Jung at a retreat in early April. They are both so peaceful, so anchored, so full of radiant Christian love. When I listened to either of them speak about the spiritual life, I felt like I was living out Psalm 23. They took me to the good green grass where I rested and feasted. They led me beside living streams where I was renewed and restored. Their words and insights—spoken with their gentle Korean-accented tones—flooded over me rich as anointing oil, covering me with God’s grace. They became guides and mentors for me on how to live spirit-filled lives.
But the truth is their lives have been hard. They have endured much pain and much sacrifice. They radiate joy now not because they have known no heartache but because they have chosen to lift their hearts up to the Lord. They have chosen joy. They have chosen peace. They have chosen life. These may have been hard choices, but they were all worth it. The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.
We too can radiate Christian love. We can radiate joy. We can radiate life. We can radiate peace. But that means hard work. It means not allowing ourselves to get pulled into petty arguments or pointless pursuits. It means giving our time, our hearts, our wills to God. It means fully engaging in the spiritual disciplines of prayer, study, silence, service, and worship.
Do you want a deeper connection to God? Do you want a more fulfilling Christian life? Do you want your faith to make a difference? The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.
copyright 2008 J Churchman
Thy Word Worship Series
“Our Vision” Worship Series Our vision for The Way is to be an authentic community of faith committed to Christian discipleship and spiritual formation through experiential worship, challenging Bible study, and hands-on mission. As we begin our fourth year of ministry together, we have been taking a closer look at the three basic elements of our vision statement for "The Way". In April we considered the worship life of our community. For the next five weeks we will focus on study and mission.
May 4 Thy Word: Knowing the Bible Intellectually
May 11 Thy Word: Knowing the Bible Intuitively
May 4 Thy Word: Knowing the Bible Intellectually
May 11 Thy Word: Knowing the Bible Intuitively
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Lost in Worship
“Lost in Worship” Series begins April 13Our vision for The Way is to be an authentic community of faith committed to Christian discipleship and spiritual formation through experiential worship, challenging Bible study, and hands-on mission. As we begin our fourth year of ministry together, we will take a close look at each of these elements of our vision. “Lost in Worship” is the first of these mini-series. We will focus on how and why we worship, using the Psalms as our guide. The title for this series, “Lost in Worship,” refers to that marvelous closing line in the hymn “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”: “Changed from glory into glory, till in heaven we take our place, till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love, and praise.” That’s worship! Come, get lost with us—April at The Way!
Just click on the sermon you are interested in to listen.
April 13 Lost in Wonder (Psalm 8)
April 20 Lost in Love (Psalm 84)
April 27 Lost in Praise (Psalms 145 and 150)
Just click on the sermon you are interested in to listen.
April 13 Lost in Wonder (Psalm 8)
April 20 Lost in Love (Psalm 84)
April 27 Lost in Praise (Psalms 145 and 150)
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