Peace & Strength 11am

Peace & Strength 9am

August 6, 2023 • Curt McFarland • Philippians 4:1–14

“12 I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. 13 I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” This is an incredible passage … one I find hard to fully grasp. Paul (the writer) lived in a much different world than I have ever lived. I’ve never known real hunger. Sure, there have been times I’ve been hungry. I’ve skipped a meal or two. I’ve deprived myself for spiritual purposes. I’ve “gone hungry” in an attempt to lose weight, or to understand what others experience daily, not by choice. I’ve been in countries (Cambodia and Cuba) where hunger was present. That hunger, to a degree, exists in Seattle, Spokane, Yakima. Surveys indicate panhandling in the U.S. earns $4-$15 an hour. In our cities, here in Yakima, public and private agencies offer meals, housing, healthcare, and other assistance. More is needed. The closest I’ve been to hunger, real hunger, real want, honest poverty that stuck to my clothes, was in Haiti. It wasn’t occasional. It wasn’t the exception. In some areas of Port Au Prince, and in other large cities, NGOs (Non-Government Organizations) tried to help. Their attempts, honestly, seem to have little positive effect. Christians in Haiti know what Paul means in this passage. They understand what it means to depend on God in times of hunger and need. I’m at the other end. I know plenty and abundance. Does that drive me to rely on God for the strength I need? According to this passage it should.

"Perfect" 9am

July 30, 2023 • Curt McFarland • Philippians 3:12–21

Why are my expectations so high? When I go out to a nice restaurant, I expect everything to be “perfect”: the meal cooked just right, the presentation of the food beautiful, the service without defect. If the food is cold, if the plate doesn’t look great, if the service isn’t stellar, I can be critical. I may not send the food back, or voice my discontent to the manager, but I’m making mental notes on whether I’ll return. Conversations with those I’ve shared the experience with often focus on deficiencies, or on how close to “perfect” my, our, experience was. I have the same expectation when I stay overnight in a hotel, when I select vegetables at the store, when I shop at the hardware store. I’m looking for “perfection.” Where did I, and I know I share this with many others, get this expectation? Sadly, sometimes this leaks into my relationships: my relationship with others, with myself. I acknowledge intellectually that no one (God is the exception) is “perfect”, that I’m not perfect, but there is something in me that wants perfection. I want to be a perfect father, a perfect friend. And, when my friends aren’t perfect, even in small ways, my unreal expectations wrestle with what I know of reality. I’m hard on myself. I want to be perfect, or close to it. Not physically, my defects are reflected to me daily. But morally, spiritually, character-wise, work-wise, the expectation persists. If I come up short in my relationship with God, I feel I’ve failed. This is foolish but my struggle remains. Why do I expect I will live out my faith in Jesus perfectly? What room does that expectation leave for a healthy understanding of human sin and weakness, and God’s undeserved love and grace. There is a destructive temptation to expect an all-in, all the time, unwavering, sold-out, devotion to Jesus.

"Perfect" 11am

July 30, 2023 • Curt McFarland • Philippians 3:12–21

Why are my expectations so high? When I go out to a nice restaurant, I expect everything to be “perfect”: the meal cooked just right, the presentation of the food beautiful, the service without defect. If the food is cold, if the plate doesn’t look great, if the service isn’t stellar, I can be critical. I may not send the food back, or voice my discontent to the manager, but I’m making mental notes on whether I’ll return. Conversations with those I’ve shared the experience with often focus on deficiencies, or on how close to “perfect” my, our, experience was. I have the same expectation when I stay overnight in a hotel, when I select vegetables at the store, when I shop at the hardware store. I’m looking for “perfection.” Where did I, and I know I share this with many others, get this expectation? Sadly, sometimes this leaks into my relationships: my relationship with others, with myself. I acknowledge intellectually that no one (God is the exception) is “perfect”, that I’m not perfect, but there is something in me that wants perfection. I want to be a perfect father, a perfect friend. And, when my friends aren’t perfect, even in small ways, my unreal expectations wrestle with what I know of reality. I’m hard on myself. I want to be perfect, or close to it. Not physically, my defects are reflected to me daily. But morally, spiritually, character-wise, work-wise, the expectation persists. If I come up short in my relationship with God, I feel I’ve failed. This is foolish but my struggle remains. Why do I expect I will live out my faith in Jesus perfectly? What room does that expectation leave for a healthy understanding of human sin and weakness, and God’s undeserved love and grace. There is a destructive temptation to expect an all-in, all the time, unwavering, sold-out, devotion to Jesus.

Grace of Christ