Among the books I’d just piled onto the bookshelf in my office was a slim volume with Tutu’s name inscribed in the spine. Fetching it from the shelf, I held in my hands a book entitled “Crying In the Wilderness: The Struggle for Justice in South Africa.”
When I opened the book, something fell from the pages onto the floor of my office.
I picked it up and examined it.
The great poet, translator, and pastor of 29 years, Reverend Eugene Peterson was once asked if he had any advice for people trying to choose a church to go to. He replied: “…go to the closest church where you live, and the smallest. And if after six months it’s just not working, go to the next smallest.”…
Sean told me that the splits that I saw in the post and beam were called “checking.” He said it was totally normal and nothing to worry about… The wood changes as it dries, but not sufficiently to undermine structural integrity of a house.
And then he told me something else – something quite amazing…
Stick the word “gospel” in front of the word “truth” and you get something that is undeniably true.
The gospel truth.
But I maintain that gospel truth is not the truth of fact. It is not the truth of law.
The Gospel, DOES arrive at a real and powerful truth – I affirm this. But I suggest that the gospel arrives at this truth by way of description, not prescription.
Hearty winter soups Hamburger and Tuna Helper Hot Cocoa (individual serving size) Deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste and toothbrushes THANK YOU!
I’m afraid I forgot, in the heat of the moment, to push “record” on my device, so this sermon only exists in text form and no audio. This is sad because we all sang so nicely together! Oh well. I hope you enjoy it anyway… Rev. Mark When I was a kid – about the […]
A reed shaken by the wind.
This morning’s reading from eleventh chapter of Matthew contains a curious image.
It is curious… But I love it!
I suppose I might as well simply admit to you that I love it because it is curious!
By Ralph Waldo Emerson Thousand minstrels woke within me, “Our music’s in the hills;”— Gayest pictures rose to win me, Leopard-colored rills. Up!—If thou knew’st who calls To twilight parks of beech and pine, High over the river intervals, Above the ploughman’s highest line, Over the owner’s farthest walls! Up! where the airy citadel O’erlooks […]
