One of my favorite baseball stories is about three umpires who were discussing how they did their jobs, especially when they were working behind the plate, calling balls and strikes. The first umpire said, "Some of 'em are balls; some of 'em are strikes. But I calls 'em as I sees 'em." The second one said, "Some of 'em are balls; some of 'em are strikes. But I calls 'em as they are." The third one said, "Some of 'em are balls; some of 'em are strikes. But they ain't nothin' until I calls 'em." 

A sermon is in that story because it's a parable about life. Each of those umpires tells us something about our relationship to the truth. (Read Matthew 16:13-16, 21-25; John 8:32). The third umpire is my favorite. Here is a man who creates truth by his word. When we create truth or meaning or relationships, we are sharing in God's creative activity. Made in God's image and likeness, we are all artists and creators. The Bible uses the metaphor or speech to describe God's creation: "God said, 'Let there be light;’ and there was light." (Genesis 1:3) The parable of the umpires teaches us to never be afraid to call life as we see it, to express our love for God and our fellow human beings.

Let us pray: How great thou art, O God, without whose spirit nothing grows, without 

whose love, we wither and fall away. We thank you for Jesus of Nazareth who leads us 

in this way...  where to be great, one has to be humble,  where to be exalted, one has to serve,  and where to find life, one has to lose it.  Teach us that great truths are great simplicities. Awaken us today that we hear the singing of trees and watch morning and night changing guard. Through the grace of Jesus. Amen. 

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Back in the late 1800s, Julia Gilbert, a single woman crippled by a childhood disease, challenged a common communion practice. In those days, in what was then a very patriarchal church, the German Baptist Brethren would only allow men to break bread with each other while insisting sisters have the bread broken for them by an elder. Time and again she tried to get her church to appeal to the annual denominational meeting. But for 50 years she was ignored. Finally, in 1910, she spoke on the floor of their annual meeting and explained why she wanted the practice changed. She said: “We women want to be in touch with Jesus.” Of course, Julia won the day.

We’ve come a long way in our culture and in our churches. Most of us have come to realize that we all have this in common—men and women, young and old, people of different backgrounds and races—we all have a deep desire to be in touch with the Holy. We long for the same healing, the same grace.

Nearly 2000 years ago, in his letter to the church in Galatia, the apostle Paul made this claim: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”

Today, where there are still divisions, where there is still inequality, where there is still prejudice, let us pray for God’s healing. And may our prayers become our actions, as we each do our part to work towards that wholeness.

Let us pray: All-Loving, Merciful God, we join countless women and men from across this globe over the millennia who have sought your peace, your presence. We long for the day when you will heal all brokenness; all broken relationships, all broken promises, all broken people. We surrender ourselves to your grace again this day—wash over us with your love, mercy, and hope. Now use us, we humbly ask, to be instruments of your reconciliation; through Jesus Christ. Amen.

A friend reminded me recently that even more important than “going to church” is “being the church.” After all, Jesus said we are to be the “salt and light” of the world.

Theologian George McCleod once wrote: “I am for recovering the claim that Jesus was not crucified in a cathedral between two candles, but on a cross between two thieves, on the town garbage heap, at a place so cosmopolitan they had to write his title in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek; at the kind of place where cynics talk smut, soldiers gamble, and thieves curse; because that is where Christ died, and that is what Christ died about, and that is where church people ought to be, and what church people should be about.”

Salt and light not just in the church, but in the world.

As I read that, I thought about a group from our Presbytery that for a while offered a theology discussion class that met in a bar. They called it “Theology on Tap.”

I also thought about my friend Robert McCary. Robert was the full-time youth director at Community Presbyterian Church out in Atlantic Beach. He now does much of their pastoral care. He still spends at least a portion of his time each week out surfing at the break behind the church. He claims it is in his job description.

Years ago, when I worked there, I learned pretty quickly that he knows every lifeguard. He knows most of the surfers in the water—young and old—many of whom do not go to his church or any church. And I have seen that often he’ll have people want to talk to him, to share their problems with him, even ask him for advice—not only because he is a leader in their community—but also because Robert has a reputation for being a good father, a good husband, and a man of deep faith. It is clear that he truly loves and cares for people.

I also thought about some in my congregation who have been mentoring high school students in need. And others who go out in the elementary schools to pack backpacks full of food; others still who visit the elderly, or who sing or play bells in nursing homes at Christmas. I could go on.

Today, I pray that you would reflect for just a few moments on the ways in which you are the salt and light—not just in the church but out in the world.

Let us pray: Draw us closer to you, O God, that we would commit our very lives to walk in your ways; that our actions and our very lives would make a difference— that they would indeed bring light and hope; in Jesus’ name. Amen.

During World War II, when allied armies marched into Germany on their way to Berlin, retreating German soldiers would switch road signs and destroy landmarks in an effort to confuse their enemy. To an extent, it worked. I understand that many followed false markers only to end up in the wrong place.

I remember when Hurricane Andrew hit south Florida, I was in Costa Rica on a surf trip. When we flew back into Miami, there were no street signs, no stop lights—nothing. It took us forever to find the interstate! I’m told that even people who lived there all their lives had trouble finding their way around. Buildings, homes, and bridges were gone. All the landmarks that helped them get their bearings had been washed away.

Today, to say we live in a day and age of monumental change is a huge understatement. Just think about technology. And on top of that, our cultural values and norms have also shifted tremendously. Sometimes it is hard for us to get our bearings.

We need landmarks. We need reliable signposts.

In our tradition, we hold that worship, scripture, and a community of faith can all help us navigate the complexity of life. The truth is, there are signposts all around us. Some of them were handed down to us, others we must seek out.

My prayer is that you would return again and again to the ones that become significant to you. And as you do, may you find yourself rooted in a tried and true path.

Let us pray: God of Hope, I pray especially today for those who feel lost or lonely in life. I ask for them the right people to surround them. I ask for healing and grace. And for all of us, may we continue to turn to and trust the landmarks that have guided people of faith from generation to generation. Amen.

There’s a story about a father and son who went to lunch together one day. When the waiter brought the food, the father said, “Son, we’ll just have a silent prayer.” Dad got through praying first and waited for the boy to finish his prayer. His son sat with his head bowed for an unusually long time, and when he finally looked up, his father asked him, “What in the world were you praying about all that time?” With the innocence and honesty of a child, he replied, “How do I know? It was a silent prayer.”

The truth is, sometimes, silent prayers are the best ones.

I once heard a pastor ask the question: Have you spent the same amount of time worrying and talking about your difficult, confusing situations as you have spent in silence listening to what God might have to say?

A friend once told me his spiritual discipline is to turn off the radio when he’s in the car alone. Another friend with small children shared that she would climb into the closet to hide first thing in the morning so she could have 10 minutes of prayer. However it looks for you, I hope you can find a few minutes each day to sit and listen.

In Habakkuk, we read, “...the Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him!”

Luke tells us in chapter 5: But now more than ever the word about Jesus spread abroad; many crowds would gather to hear him and to be cured of their diseases. But he would withdraw to deserted places and pray. (Luke 5:15–16)

Let us pray: Grant us your grace and strength, O God, that we would be able to carve some quiet into our lives. In that space, heal us, guide us, lead us, and grant us the fullness of your peace. Amen.