June 29, 2025

John 12:27-36

“Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But for this purpose I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven: “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd that stood there and heard it said that it had thundered. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now will the ruler of this world be cast out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to show by what kind of death he was going to die. So the crowd answered him, “We have heard from the Law that the Christ remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?” So Jesus said to them, “The light is among you for a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. The one who walks in the darkness does not know where he is going. While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may become sons of light.” When Jesus had said these things, he departed and hid himself from them.

June 22, 2025

Numbers 23:18-24

And Balaam took up his discourse and said, “Rise, Balak, and hear; give ear to me, O son of Zippor: God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind. Has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not fulfill it? Behold, I received a command to bless: he has blessed, and I cannot revoke it. He has not beheld misfortune in Jacob, nor has he seen trouble in Israel. The Lord their God is with them, and the shout of a king is among them. God brings them out of Egypt and is for them like the horns of the wild ox. For there is no enchantment against Jacob, no divination against Israel; now it shall be said of Jacob and Israel, ‘What has God wrought!’ Behold, a people! As a lioness it rises up and as a lion it lifts itself; it does not lie down until it has devoured the prey and drunk the blood of the slain.”

Good morning church family,

Human beings are born with great capacity but little proficiency. Any toddler, for instance, is up and dancing the minute the DJ spins a tune. But that doesn’t mean you’d want to have that little kid take the lead. From the first second their born, babies are engaging their vocal cords and communicating; but they’ll make their parents wait for years before they hear a single, grammatically-correct sentence come out of any of their little mouths. As soon as an infant has enough core strength to roll over onto his stomach, he’s instantly on the move; but it will be many moons before all the baby gates in the house can come down. And if I observed anything during my time as a parent of newborns, it was that babies are extremely gifted at going to the bathroom; but it took the better part of forever for them to be able to relieve themselves at the proper time, in the proper place, and in the proper manner. Yes; humans are born with lots of ability but precious little competency.

While parents are quick to correct their children’s grammar, get them potty trained, and help them to their feet; I see little of the same urgency on the part of the Evangelical Church to encourage similar growth in the spiritual newborns living under its roof.

Any convert to Christianity, for instance, is instantly able to pray. In fact, prayer was probably something he was doing long before he even came to Christ. But simply being able to pray cannot be the goal. Instead, Jesus would see His followers be able to pray both powerfully and effectively.

Every new believer with an elementary school education should be able to read his Bible. But there’s an ocean of difference between someone who can successfully read a chapter a day in the Bible and someone who can read that chapter for comprehension; understanding and applying the insights to his life and situation.

Any Christian who makes it to church on time is able to participate in worship; standing, singing, and lifting holy hands. But there’s so much more to worship than learning melodies and following stage directions.

And, from the first moment they come into the fold, every Christian has a testimony. Everybody can say something about his faith. But the believer’s defense of his faith and the articulation of the hope he has in his heart is something that should get more and more compelling, convincing, and quickening as the years go by.

But isn’t it a shame that so many Christians are living off the same level of spiritual proficiency they had when they first accepted Christ decades before. Indeed, the Evangelical church in the West is the most babied bunch of Christians the Faith has ever seen. The modern American church is filled with many converts but precious few disciples.

When I was pastoring in Augusta, Georgia, there was a man in the church there named David. He was a quiet, soft-spoken, and hardworking man who loved his little church; never missing a Sunday. His wife had died not long before I started pastoring there and he was doing his best then to raise their kids without her. David painted houses for a living and the sunbaked hand that I shook every Sunday always had splatters of paint on it. David sat in the second row with his family and always listened intently to everything that was said and sung. He loved dirt track racing and was successful one Saturday night in getting me out to one of the local tracks. I remember sitting there drinking Mountain Dew, eating boiled peanuts, and grinning through the cloud of dust. But the most time I spent with David was at my house. David’s youngest son, Cody, was in the youth group that I led at the parsonage on Sunday nights and David started hanging out and helping me in whatever way he could during the meetings. I was glad to have him there and he was a kind and loving toward the other kids.

It was during these youth group meetings at my house that I started to pick up on something about David that saddened and surprised me. I began taking note of the fact that David never offered to read the Scripture we were studying and always shyly declined if asked to. We sang songs out of the hymnal during our meetings (very unorthodox for a youth group but the kids loved it) and I observed that David never looked at the words even though the selection wasn’t well-known and the book was open on his lap. Reflecting further, I realized that David didn’t text message or email, didn’t fill out any of the forms for ski trips or camps, and never took a bulletin on Sunday. It wasn’t that David didn’t read – I came to understand that David couldn’t read.

One night I ended up driving Cody home from some youth event we’d had and David happened to be sitting out on his front deck when I pulled into the yard. David and his family lived in a humble backwoods home that was situated quite a ways down a lonesome dirt road. David was enjoying a cold drink at the end of his day and his enthusiastic wave encouraged me to park the car for a minute and chat a while. I sat down on one of the plastic patio chairs on the deck and declined the offer of an in-kind cold drink. I don’t remember now how the conversation turned personal but I do remember seeing an opening for broaching the question of whether or not he could read.

“Say, David,” I said; speaking casually and wishing I had one of those cold drinks to sit back and sip on, “you don’t read very well, huh?”

“No, sir,” David said without hesitation while staring into his lap. Then looking up at me briefly, he continued, “I don’t suppose I rightly read at all. Never have.”

Even though I had suspected it, I was still surprised to hear it. But I tried not to betray my wonder at the confession. I was amazed that this man who owned a home, had a business, was raising a family, and serving in the church; wasn’t able to read a lick. I was instantly both humbled by David’s pluck and determination in life and burdened to help him finally learn. I asked him that night if he’d like some help in trying to read and he said that he would. We arranged to meet one evening a week at the church and I’d try and teach him his ABC’s.

Those first few meetings were pretty comical. I learned pretty quickly that teaching someone how to read is no easy task. I, of course, took being able to read for granted and believed anybody could just “pick it up”. Well, I was wrong about that. So, as David was learning how to read, I was learning how to teach reading. Like I said, it was pretty comical. But in fits and starts, we started making a little progress. David humbled himself and I, with homemade flashcards in hand, stopped trying to get this grown man to be able to read in a single day and began patiently working with him.

As David got better at being able to sound out words and fitting them into the orders of the sentences he was given, he suddenly seemed more comfortable in sharing about his efforts with others in the church. And as the open secret of David’s illiteracy became a rooting interest of everyone in the church – a better and more able teacher was found for David and I was relieved of my duties. As time went by, I was glad to see David begin picking his way through passages on Sunday morning and seeing his eyes crossing the page of the hymnal as he sang out the lyric. He never said much about it but I knew he was grateful for that front porch conversation we’d had years before.

I think about that episode often when I reflect on the lack of spiritual proficiency I see among the faithful folks I’m walking with. There are so many of us that ought to humble ourselves as David did and confess some of our incompetencies in the realm of Christian disciplines – myself included.

So, let this email be an invitation to a front porch – yours or mine – and a confession that I’d like to try and do a little more teaching if you’re up for trying to do a little more learning. Then maybe, just maybe, the Lord might let the American church out of the nursery!

We’re looking forward to gathering together in the morning to spend some blessed time in the Lord’s house with God and His people. Praise the Lord for His Kingdom! These times together are so good for the soul. May the Lord, mighty God, bless and continue to keep us!

  • Pastor Tate

June 15, 2025

1 Corinthians 16:13

Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong.

Good morning church family,

All during our growing up years, my father was very patient with us kids. Should we happen to break a window while playing baseball in the backyard, he’d just say, “Wow. A second-story one, huh? Nice hit.” If he caught us blowing all our money on penny candy from the dry cleaners, he’d smile and say, “I bet not ten seconds after you finished that Tootsie Roll, the taste was out of your mouth. Wouldn’t it be nice to use your money on something that lasts a little longer?” Or when our report cards sported a crescent moon or two, he’d slowly remove his glasses, lay the sad report down on the dining room table, and wrinkle up his mouth. “Well,” he’d say; solemn encouragement visible in the corners of his eyes, “I’m sure those marks can be improved upon. Can’t they, son?”

Yes, my dad was undyingly patient. Whether it was us kids bending mower blades on the roots of the backyard maple, dimpling the rear quarter panel of the family station wagon with errant Frisbie tosses, or bloodying his nose with a barrage of frozen snowballs as he trudged defenseless up the walk at the end of a long day; bags of groceries under each arm – my dad bore it all with grace. But there was one thing that would instantly exhaust our father’s vast reserve of patience. There was one bit of sloppy carelessness that he could never brook. There was one sin he simply wouldn’t suffer. Yes, my dad was a different man when any of us took the Lord’s name in vain. Should the irreverent utterance slip any of our lips, the fork and knife would instantly be laid down on the plate, the car pulled over, the TV turned off, the needle taken off the groove, or the board game put on pause. And this wasn’t just for the most egregious of offenses, such as uttering, “Good God!”, or “Oh my God,” or “Jesus Christ!”. No, this was also for any various and sundry offenses which my father called “minced oaths”. A minced oath might be anything from a “gosh” or a “golly” to a “gee-whiz”, “jeez”, or “jeezum crow”. Exclamations like these, which lived in phonetic proximity to the forbidden terms, had only been invented to skirt the prohibition and keep the commandment on a technicality. (My father had a similar dislike for words like “darn”, “heck”, and “shoot”) And my father was having none of it.

I remember feeling pretty small whenever my dad would confront me with violating the third commandment. He always made it so personal. “I’m disappointed in you, son,” he’d say; speaking with a graveness I was unaccustomed to hearing from him.

“I’m sorry,” I’d say; with my chin on my chest.

“Don’t apologize to me,” he’d quickly reply. “It’s God you’ve offended and from Him you’ll need to find forgiveness.”

Dad always made it so personal, you see. And today I’m awfully glad for that. I remember, long ago, escaping to the backyard after one such very public and embarrassing confrontation. I retreated back there to be alone and to lick my wounds. I remember picking up a tennis ball and playing catch with the brick wall at the rear of our house. As I stood there kicking the dirt and bouncing the ball against the house, my dad’s admonition to make an apology to God kept playing over and over again in my mind. Throw, bounce, bounce; catch. “I broke one of the ten commandments.” Throw, bounce, bounce; catch. “I’ve sinned against God.” Throw, bounce, bounce; catch. “My dad practically yelled at me; and in front of everybody.” Throw, bounce, bounce; catch. “I’m a terrible Christian.”

At that, I caught the ball but didn’t throw it back. Instead, I paused for a moment and exhaled a sigh of surrender. “I’m sorry, God,” I said in a whisper only Heaven could hear.

“I forgive you,” was the sum of the Lord’s blessed reply.

As my faith grew, so did the amount of time I spent praying. And the more I prayed, the more personal my faith became. And the more personal my walk with my Lord, vanities vanished off my lips.

So, if the third commandment is a problem for any of you today, take this Father’s Day to take up the practice of genuine prayer in your life. Start by placing a simple Father’s Day call to Heaven. “Good morning, God,” you might begin. “Happy Heavenly Father’s Day!”

It will be so good to gather together tomorrow for worship. With war in the Middle East once again organizing the ire and alliances of the entire world, what a profound blessing it will be to muster under the banner of Christ and His Kingdom. Maranatha! Let us pray for the peace of Jerusalem. May the Lord, mighty God, bless and continue to keep us.

  • Pastor Tate