Come back in time with me to first-century Jericho. Jesus has just entered the town, and there’s this short guy named Zach trying to see him through the crowd. Zach is a tax collector—and not just any tax collector. He’s the chief, and he’s rich. And he got that wealth via corruption.  

Now imagine you’re one of the people this mob boss ripped off. It happened twenty years ago. And let’s assume that it went like this: you once owned property inherited from your parents. And they got it from their parents. Every good childhood memory you have rests on that precious property.  

Judah, my middle child, is a rocks, sticks, leaves, tree-climbing kind of boy. On one of our Fall walks a couple years ago, He picked up an acorn and with an excited smile, said, “Look!” As he handed them to me for safe keeping.

What I thought were simple, brown acorns, the kind with tops that look like hats, he thought were beautiful seeds of possibility.

A Simple Seed

I began to think about how I felt like that acorn.

Tossed. Un-noticed. Set-aside from the hustle of busy, important people, going to busy, important places, doing busy, important things.

Did my holding a fist full of acorns matter?

But then, I looked up.

And I saw this huge, green oak tree full of life. Squirrels dancing on the branches. Birds singing on its limbs. Life made possible by an acorn tucked under the earth where no one saw it, except the creator who formed it. Watered by God’s rains. Unnoticed by busy, important people doing busy, important things.

An acorn—offering its whole existence to service so that something might grow after its death—grander and more life-giving and beautiful than it could ever see, or ever be.

To me, this is parenthood.

And the scriptures show us, it is also the way of the kingdom of God.

Fall is finally here and with it the harvest.  There are many kinds of harvests. One of them happens, not in the fall, but because of the fall, the fall of man into sin. Words are like seeds. Once spoken they are planted in the hearts of the hearer. They too produce a harvest. Words can be a harvest of blessing but unloving words produce a harvest of hurt.

Title: Daniel, an elder statesman
Aim: To recognize that God is building a kingdom that is everlasting.
Scripture: Daniel 7:9–14
 
Daniel, the man, Daniel 1–6
 
The book of Daniel contains historical accounts known and loved by generations of believers and unbelievers alike. What child who has spent any time in Sunday school cannot tell the episode of Daniel in the lion’s den? 
 

Happy November, yall! The holidays are approaching! And, for many of us, that means more than trimming the turkey or tossing tinsel; it means painful reminders and interactions. To cope, we may adopt one of the following strategies:

Gameday

Pre-game: scramble to get everyone dressed and everything packed

1^st quarter: brunch at grandma’s and the annual forced-feeding of that iffy congealed salad. Somebody throw a flag on that!

2^nd quarter: lunch at Aunt Lorraine’s and another of Uncle Jim’s political gabfests

Halftime: strapping everyone back into the car, managing a toddler meltdown, and finding an operable gas station

            Two years ago I took an Evangelism class—a seminary graduation requirement I had put off. Rehearsing for disaster, I envisioned a mandatory assignment that would leave me covered in eggs and tomatoes. Although my hair would have shone like the sun, I would have preferred a night of thumb-hammering over having to share the gospel with strangers at a grocery store.    

All Saint’s Day, November 1, observed by Christians in many countries around the world, is traditionally a celebration of all Christian Saints. In some countries cemeteries are crowded with people who come to clean and decorate the family graves and bring flowers and light candles on the graves of their loved ones to remember them. Having experienced this first hand living in Austria, a Catholic country, I was struck by how honoring this was of the families whose loved ones had died.

On Saturday, October 27, 2019, a mass shooting took place at the “Tree of Life” Jewish synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. According to the BuzzFeed News service, the suspected “gunman” perpetrating the “hate crime”—Robert Bowers—is said to have murdered “eleven people,” along with wounding “four police officers” and “at least two other civilians.”[1]
 

Have you not read this scripture: 'The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This is from the Lord, and it is marvelous in our eyes'?" (Mark 12:10-11 NET)

I remember the first time my step-mother, standing beside my father, introduced me to her friend, by saying, “This is our daughter.” She didn’t say, “This is his daughter.” By choosing that one specific pronoun ”our” she was telling me that I now belonged, that I was part of the relationship between her and my dad, that she had claimed me as her own, that we were family.  

Jesus begins the prayer he taught the multitudes (as recorded in Matthew 6) and his disciples (Luke 11) by telling them to start their conversations with God by saying “Our” Father. This little word, “our,” holds big implications for the entire prayer.