Today’s message was written by guest pastor, Rev. Tasha Blackburn.

When I was a child I thought adults were never afraid. In fact, it was one of the things I thought made you an adult: to stop being afraid equals becoming an adult. Of course, I learned that this is not true. Some fears fade but new and bigger ones take their place. Fear is not all bad. At times it alerts us to harm or keeps us from a poor decision. But fear, allowed to run rampant, can hurt us far more than it helps. It can even keep us from God’s love. It reminds me of a passage C.S. Lewis writes in the final book of his Narnia series, The Last Battle. He describes this scene: 

“A group of dwarves are sitting huddled together in a tight little knot thinking that they are in a pitch-black, malodorous stable when the truth of it is that they are out in the midst of an endless grassy countryside as green as Vermont with the sun shining and blue sky overhead. The huge golden lion, Aslan himself, stands nearby with all the other dwarves ‘kneeling in a circle around his forepaws’ as Lewis writes, ‘and burying their hands and faces in his mane as he stooped his great head to touch them with his tongue.’ When Aslan offers the dwarves food, they think it is offal [rotting meat]. When he offers them wine, they take it for ditch water.”

What a powerful image. It calls me to examine where in my own life I let fear bind me in a dark stable when, in reality, I am in a green field with my Lord. Love surrounds me if only my fear will let me see it. The writer of 1 John puts it this way: “Perfect love casts out fear” but its opposite is also true: great fear casts out love, even God’s love.

Whatever you are facing today, please do not allow fear to hold sway. Do not give it the power of keeping you from God’s love. 

Prayer: Lord of love and hope, I am so often filled with fear. Please never let that fear cast out the love I have for you and the love I know you have for me. Take me out of whatever dark place I am and open my eyes to your presence that is right next to me, feeding me and sustaining me even now. In your holy name, I pray. Amen.

Today’s message was written by guest pastor, Rev. Tasha Blackburn.

When John the Baptist began preaching, he described himself as “a voice crying in the wilderness.” Which sounds like desperation. That’s how we use the phrase now. We say that kind of thing when we don’t think anyone will listen when we think nothing will change: I’m a voice crying in the wilderness! Remembering how John was introduced, we only feel even more desperate. Here is that introduction: “In the 15th year of Emperor Tiberius’ reign, when Pontius Pilate was governor, and Herod was ruler, and his brother Philip also ruled, during the priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John.”

All these powerful rulers are listed, representatives of an empire of oppression, and, opposite them, there is John. Just John, all on his own: desperation. Except for two things. First, we are told that the Word of the Lord came to John. It didn’t come to Pilate or Tiberius, or any of the powers that be. The Lord chose to send his word to John, this ordinary and powerless guy.

The second reason this isn’t desperation: the fact that the Word of the Lord came at all. The last time God’s word had been given was to the prophet Malachi. That was 500 years before. 500 years the people had waited and wondered and even given up hope. They were voices crying in the wilderness. But then came John, ordinary John. The Lord sent his word to him to show he had not forgotten his people. That voice crying in the wilderness is a message of hope and a promise fulfilled: that God both keeps his word and continues to send his word.

I don’t know about you but it feels like God has been pretty quiet lately. We can even wonder if he has stopped talking to us for good. I hope today some of what could be desperation can become hope. Because God never gives up on us. He may be quiet for a while but he is always there and he will work through his people again. And again and again.

Let’s pray: Almighty God, we can feel so alone. We can feel separated from others and even from you. Speak to us again; speak through us. Send us your word that is more powerful than all other powers. In your name, we pray. Amen.

There’s a legend about the great artist Michelangelo pushing a huge piece of rock down a street. A curious neighbor, sitting lazily on the porch of her house, called to him and inquired why he labored so over an old piece of stone. Michelangelo is reported to have answered, “Because there is an angel in that rock that wants to come out.” 

Friend of Dial Hope, think imaginatively. Color outside of the lines. Think of rocks as those challenges which you have met. Think of rocks as those things you have tamed, or those times when you brought order out of chaos. Whenever you find angels in rocks you are being creative. It is our creative potential that puts us in the image of God, for it is our charge in life to be creators. Some of you will be creative with pen or brush, others with touch or thought. Be you a teacher or a veterinarian, a parent or a chef, an engineer or a musician you will fulfill your post through creativity. 

Vincent Van Gogh used to say that “many painters are afraid of the blank canvas, but the blank canvas is afraid of the passionate painter who is daring and who has broken that spell of “you, cannot!”‘ The creative person paints. In Genesis 1:26 we read, Then God Said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness.”  

Let us pray: Loving God, whom we see in every summer flower and flowering stream, teach us to see you as well in the haggard faces of the old, the gaunt or bloated bodies of the poor, and the imploring eyes of children. Help us who are called by your name to have your vision of the world of the future, as a place where the lion lies down with the lamb, the person with two coats shares with the person who has none, and everyone takes care of children and the aged. Release us from our bondage to self-interest. Grant today your amazing grace to those who are ill in body or spirit. Through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen. 

Today’s message was written by guest pastor, Rev. Tasha Blackburn.

One of my heroes died a few years back. Fred Craddock was a pastor as well as being world-famous for his preaching. As we face a new year together, one of his stories keeps coming to my mind. Craddock told it, saying, “Glenn Adsit, a schoolmate from years ago, ministered mostly in China. He was under house arrest in China when the soldiers came one day and said, ‘You can return to America.’ They were celebrating, and the soldiers said, ‘You can take 200 pounds with you.’ Well, they’d been there for years. 

200 pounds. 

They got the scales out and started the arguments: two children, wife, husband. You know how it would go… I just must have this vase. And I need the computer. Well, what about my books? What about this? What about that? They weighed the stuff. Then they took this off, then that, and then weighed again. Finally, they got things right on the dot. 

200 pounds.

The soldiers returned and asked, ‘Ready to go?’ 
‘Yes,’ Glen said. 
‘You weigh the kids?’
‘No, we didn’t,’ he replied. ‘Weigh the kids.’
And in a moment, the vase and books and everything became trash. Trash. It happens.”

 When we fret and worry and weigh, we need to remember: have I weighed the kids yet? Have I focused on what really matters or am I just worrying around the edges of what truly counts? Jesus reminds us not to worry about things that–to us–may sound imperative and necessary but, to him, are not what really matters. He promises that if we will focus on God’s kingdom (if we will weigh the kids first) then everything else we need will come to us.

What trust and faith this takes! Let us pray for that trust and faith to carry us through this day.

Prayer: Lord Jesus, help me to seek your kingdom. Help me to focus on what really matters in this life you’ve given me and help me let go of all else that would concern me. I cannot do this without your help so do not leave me, I pray. Amen.

Today’s message was written by guest pastor, Rev. Tasha Blackburn.

The shortest song we have in the Bible is often labeled a “song of quiet trust” or something like that. It is Psalm 131 and the first half goes like this: “O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.” That’s it. That’s the first half of this very short song. And, yes, there are elements here that seem like “quiet trust” but there also may be elements of a terrible sin here as well.

We spend a lot of time talking about the sin of pride. Which makes sense. Many of us struggle with that particular problem. But we rarely, if ever, spend time talking about its opposite: the sin of humiliation. Please notice, I did not say “humility.” Humility is a good thing. It is a heart that is in the right place with God and with neighbor. But humiliation is something different. It is a sin and, sadly, some of us suffer under its weight.

Humiliation is the sin of believing you are worthless, that you do not deserve love, that your heart doesn’t deserve to be lifted up, your head does not deserve to be raised, that you are not worthy of any great or marvelous thing. It is a terrible thing to live under and it is a sin because each of us is created by God, you are created by God. Which means you are worthy of the space you take up. You are worthy of joy. You are worthy of great and marvelous things. 

If you don’t believe you are, that is not wisdom whispering in your ear; it is sin. It needs to be turned away from, disbelieved. Because God in Jesus Christ promises you can become a new creation. That old life, that old self who lived with humiliation, can be gone. A new life is waiting for you. Perhaps this shortest of songs can be your first step toward that promise.

Let’s pray: Lord, sin clings to me so closely. It is tricky and likes to pretend it is not sin. Help me to recognize the sin I live under, whether it be pride or humiliation. And help me to lay it before you, to let you carry it, so I can live the abundant life you offer. Amen.