The shock of a sudden death. Last minute back-to-school preparations. Troubled marriages. Dog slobber. Major surgery. Laughing at a text thread between old friends. Exhausting home renovations. 20-foot waterslides. Baptism preparations. Another cancelled party. Facebook pregnancy announcement. Translating ancient languages. Cooking dinner.
If you’re thinking, “Wow that seems like a jarringly random juxtaposition of events,” you’d be right – it does read a bit like a Billy Joel or REM song from the last century. But actually, it’s just a sample of this past Wednesday – a genuine emotional rollercoaster. And that wasn’t even the most extreme ride I went on in the past couple of weeks! As a mentor of mine often tells me, “This world is a difficult place to live. But it’s also the only place to live.” I’ve taken to reminding my children of this, too, as we navigate the whiplash together. Everyone has a life like this.
Early in the television series The Chosen, a frustrated young Simon finds himself in a lonely boat with empty nets, railing at the sky, and demanding whether this fickle God who leads his people into and out of slavery, (and wilderness… and exile… and foreign occupations…) has even decided whether his people really are chosen or not. Simon’s pain has put him on a path to nihilism, a view articulated well by Shakespeare: “Life,” the grieving Macbeth laments, “is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.” Man, you can just hear the hurt and fear in his voice. “Fate” has dealt him horrific blows and he is somewhere between resignation and raging against it all.
God’s answer to Simon’s (and my) tantrum comes, not in the form of a verbal reply, but in the form of a man who, though he was equal with God, did not grasp for control of this world. No, instead He humbled himself and strapped into the carnival ride with us. And he is no idiot – He gave us things like broken bread and poured out wine, which He tells us signify everything: His life for ours. What appears random and unbearable to us is in fact designed and borne for us. All the things we’ve labeled as distractions and derailments may actually be the gracious provision of God to us. Indeed, they are. The answer to the chaos of life has always been this: God with us.
This week we’re looking at a few verses I paraphrase in prayer every time I preach: Isaiah’s words of comfort about flesh and flowers, grass and glory, and the enduring Word of an everlasting God. I can’t wait to share him with you!
- josh
All Flesh Is Grass
August 8, 2021 • Rev. Joshua Smith • Isaiah 40:6–8
The Everlasting God
September 5, 2021 • Rev. Joshua Smith • Isaiah 40:27–31
St. Patrick Family, We find ourselves 18 months into a strange and terrible providence, surrounded by a frenzy of hurt and worry. Now, our own senior pastor and his wife are battling COVID-19. As the Session of Elders called to shepherd the flock of St. Patrick, we understand the unique and urgent anxiety of this moment requires a direct and compassionate pastoral response from us, urging members to draw near to Christ and move toward one another through concrete acts of grace. We hope humbly to model this posture for you. Therefore, the Session of St. Patrick would like to extend an invitation for a season of special services of prayer and communion, beginning this Sunday, September 5, at 8am in the sanctuary. These services will be a mask-only event, and we want to take a moment to explain why. First, we still believe that a universal mask mandate is not something we can require from our congregation, as long as it is left up to us. This flows from our commitment to limit the extent to which we exercise our own God-given authority over the congregation to the sphere for which it was given – namely, the purity of the gospel in the hearts and lives of our congregation. Mandating masks for all people would unreasonably bind the consciences of our membership and disallow them the freedom of expression for the love they have toward their neighbors, even when those expressions might appear obvious to us. However, we also acknowledge with profound sadness that the exercise of this conviction reveals a terrible cost, which some of the more vulnerable members of our congregation have been living with for a year and a half. Many of our people are longing to return to the assembly and to receive communion together: essential elements of worship that are made impossible for those watching our live-streamed services from afar. But they are unable to receive these means of grace, due to a variety of vulnerabilities. It is for this reason that we are, for a season, opening up an opportunity for those members to augment their livestream participation by also partaking in this service of prayer and communion. Any and all members are welcome to attend, but masks will be required in order to set the table well for these precious family members. We are starting with six weeks, simply because we don’t know what the future holds. We of course hope and pray for a miraculous and immediate end to this pandemic and a return to the robust fellowship of all our members in one service. We also know that in the meantime, we do not want to dishonor the unity of Christ’s body. Hence, our extraordinary reticence to start an entire second service with different requirements, or to place a specific mandate beyond that of Christ upon all our people. But we also know that a natural diversity of needs always exists among us, and to ignore this reality is unkind. We hope that by mitigating the loss of fellowship and communion for those who choose to livestream we can communicate to them our earnest desire to welcome them back when providence permits. For years, the St. Patrick Maundy Thursday service has included a brief word on the origin of its name: it’s from the Latin, “mandatum,” meaning command. It refers to Jesus’ directive on the night in which he was betrayed, even as he took on the role of servant to wash their feet, that his followers would love one another. Then he broke bread and blessed the cup, signaling to them that the full extent of this mandate is, “my life for yours.” We do therefore mandate that all of our members find tangible, meaningful, self-sacrificial ways to express their love and commitment to one another, despite differences on significant, yet secondary, issues. Because Grace is Everything. Community Is Family. Feasting Is Kingdom Work. And Heaven Is Local. May the Peace of Christ be upon you, The Session of St. Patrick Presbyterian Church
Not One Is Missing
August 29, 2021 • Rev. Joshua Smith • Isaiah 40:21–26
I’m sure many of you are concerned for Jim. Coronavirus is no joke, and he’s a priceless treasure to us. But I’ve been on several hours of phone and zoom calls with the boss this week and I’ve gotta tell you, he’s fine – aside from looking like a caged animal. The man is extroverted with a capital EXTRA, and the ultimate go-getter, so for him to be quarantined at the beginning of the season (especially when he feels so good) is just torturous. Still, he’s being a good and conscientious patient, so I’m up to bat for the team again this week and you can rest assured he’s cheering from the digital bench. He’s also getting to feel what it’s been like for some of you to experience Sunday worship from afar for going on 18 months now. I’m sure that will bring a whole new level of sympathy to his already fervent prayers for you all. Though his intensity may be more robust than others, Jim Holland is by no means alone in his need to be in community and to have a sense of urgent purpose in life. We’re all made for these things in God’s image. One of the reasons we emphasize Community Groups so singularly at St. Patrick is because it is simply the most effective vehicle we’ve ever seen for getting us to the places where God addresses those human needs. I’ve been telling our group leaders that the whole goal of Community Groups is that we’re “families on mission to set tables of God’s grace for the lonely.” And man, is there loneliness to go around. As I study this week’s passage in Isaiah 40, I keep being reminded of Luke 15, where the Shepherd leaves the 99 to seek out the one lost sheep, and then He throws a party when it is found. That’s just one of the many ways that Grace is Everything, and Feasting is Kingdom Work, and Community Is Family, and Heaven is Local. If you’re not in one of these families on that mission yet, I would encourage you to consider taking a step in that direction, and I would be so honored to personally help you there. Maybe you’re one of the lonely! (I know I am). And if you are already in a group, take another look at that definition and ask your leaders how you can help embody that vision in the everyday together. Hint: it’s probably going to look like a renewed fervor toward one or more of our core values. Also, don’t forget this weekend is our Sunday School Open House. We can’t wait to see you! - josh
The Image Is Moved
August 22, 2021 • Rev. Joshua Smith • Isaiah 40:12–20
One of the interesting things about people who suffer in the Bible is that God stops, listens, and patiently addresses their deepest distress. I am so glad he does. Everywhere you look, there is bad news and things we plead with God to deliver us from—Covid, Afghanistan, poor health, prodigal children—need I go on? We have a similar thing in Isaiah 40. As God pours out his overtures of love to his wayward people, they can’t hear it and wonder—do you care? Can you deliver us? Typically, God’s answer to his hurting people to have them step back so they can see the bigger picture. Suffering has a way of narrowing our focus to the moment. As someone wisely once said, “Pain makes cowards out of all of us.” So, I hope you will join us Sunday as we again look at words of comfort from Isaiah 40 and consider the question of the ages. It is a question that Israel asked in the exile, the question folk asked when they saw Jesus crucified, and the question that we still ask today. Join us Sunday and we will talk. Blessings, Jim