Full to the Brim: Even in the Desert (Luke 4:1-13)

Welcome/Call to Worship

Good morning! I’m Pastor Ashley Dargai To those here in the sanctuary and those joining us online: we are so glad you’re here! 

This morning, we will sing songs of worship, pray together, hear from scripture and one another, as we move toward the pinnacle of our service: the table of our Lord, where we will take the bread and drink the cup in remembrance of our most Gracious Host, Jesus. The purpose of our time together each Sunday is to bring our hearts closer to the heart of God, so I invite you to participate in as much or as little in our prepared liturgy as your spirit is willing. 

We welcome all sounds and smells from the youngest to the oldest among us. For our young ones, there is a coloring page and crayons for children to participate in worship as well as a designated area with toys in the back for families of little ones who need to move around and play to worship God. We believe that every age offers a unique perspective of the image of God, and we know that the energy and spirit of children can be different than adults and we consider that reality a gift.

There are visitor cards in the pew in front of you—if you arrived during the pandemic or later, of if you have moved and have not updated your info with the church, please fill it out and drop it in the offering plate when it goes by later in worship. 

A couple of announcements before we begin: 

We invite you to Sunday School at 10 AM every week. There’s classes that meet in the Seekers room and the Fellowship Hall. There is also a children and youth class that meets in the parlor.

Our nursery opened today and is available from 9 AM until the end of service for any little ones.

To keep up with all the life we live together here at Azle Christian Church, make sure you follow us on Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok. Subscribe to our weekly e-blast and monthly newsletter on our website. 

We begin a new worship series this morning: Full to the Brim: An Expansive Lent. It’s an invitation to be authentically who you are, to counter scarcity and injustice at every turn, to pour out even more grace wherever it is needed. When we allow ourselves to be filled to the brim with God’s lavish love, that love spills over. It reaches beyond ourselves; like water, it rushes and flows, touching everything in its path. This morning, we begin our expansive Lent in an unlikely place: the wilderness.

Let’s pray to turn our hearts toward God for this hour.

Spirit of truth, open to us the scriptures, speaking your holy word through song, through the bread and cup, and through offering ourselves, and meet us here today in the living Christ. Amen.

Litany of Faith

One: You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the LORD, 

All: “My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust."

One:  Because you have made the LORD your refuge, the Most High your dwelling place, 

All: no evil shall befall you, no scourge come near your tent.

One: For God will command God’s angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.

All: On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.

(From Psalm 91)

Pastoral Prayer

The Lord be with you.

Since it is the first Sunday of the month, we will sing the Lord’s Prayer at the end of our prayer time. It’s #410 in our Chalice Hymnal.

Join me in prayer…

God of the wilderness places in our lives,

It can be hard to hear you in the desert.

It can be hard to you in the city,

In the midst of our calendar reminders,

Rush-hour traffic, and notification alerts.

It can be hard to hear you, so we ask:

Make everything quiet.

Pause the chaos.

Still the rushing.

Ease our rushing thoughts.

Give us the ears to hear your Word for us today

Which promises that even in the desert

You are full to the brim.

We are listening.

We ache for your good news.

Holy God, as we wait, help us learn what expansive, abundant life means.

When we think that expansive life is about power—

Teach us a new way.

When we think that expansive life is about material wealth—

Teach us a new way.

When we think that expansive life is about control—

Teach us a new way.

Teach us to live as you live.

Teach us to love as you love.

We ask it in the name of our brother and redeemer Jesus, who taught to pray…

(Sing Lord’s prayer)

Sermon

Luke 4:1-13

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, 2 where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. 3 The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” 4 Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’”

5 Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. 6 And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. 7 If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” 8 Jesus answered him, “It is written,

‘You will worship the Most High God;

God alone will you adore.’”

9 Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, 10 for it is written,

‘God will tell the angels to take care of you,’

11 and ‘On their hands they will bear you up,

    so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’”

12 Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 13 When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God.

We began Lent this past Wednesday as we brushed our foreheads with ashes and turned our hearts toward a posture of repentance.  This holy season is marked by repentance and humility—each Lent, we empty ourselves of pride, of neglect, of apathy, of hostility, of all the things that keep us from God, as we move toward the cross. Traditionally, this is done by clearing out space in our lives either by giving something up or adopting a spiritual practice. Each year, through this practice, we consider what it means that we are small, mortal, vulnerable, and defenseless.

Our series for Lent is called Full to Brim: An Expansive Lent, and it’s meant to be a subversive shift of what we usually think of Lent. The premise is that our emptying out is not for emptiness’ sake, not for us to be hollowed out bowls with nothing but cobwebs inside. But rather the point is that we empty ourselves so that we may be filled with God’s lavish love, God’s ineffable grace, God’s own self. 

Lent is a different holy season than Advent in that rather than anticipating an arrival, we are preparing for a death. Rather than lighting candles to fill the room with warmth, we extinguish them to allow for shadows. Rather than preparing gifts and songs for our coming King, we are preparing spices and oils for his body for burial. 

We clear away all that keeps us from facing the reality that is the cross. Like shoveling snow out of our driveway or clearing brush off the road, we are making the path clear for us to return to God. 

And because of the themes of Lent, it seems rather appropriate that we begin today with Jesus’ time in the desert. 

This is classic spiritual formation stuff. 40 days, being led into the desert, temptation. These are literary signals to people familiar with the Hebrew scriptures. Just as we hear, “Once upon a time” and know what kind of story we’re getting, the people who received this temptation story would know what to expect based on the way this story is set-up. 

So for example, 40 days does not necessarily mean 40 days. It simply means a long time. We see 40 show up in other places in scripture: it rained for 40 days and 40 nights. The Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years. Was this an exact calculation? Probably not—but the point is made: it was a long time. 

And then we have the wilderness: a place of temptation, of questioning, of isolation. 

If you’re thinking about the Israelites wandering in the desert eating manna and complaining when you think wilderness, then your brain is going to the right place. 

The Gospel writers are trying to show that Jesus was not forming some new, disruptive religious cult, but that what he’s doing is very old and has ancient roots. What God did out in the desert all those years ago—shaping a people, kneading out the muscle memory of enslavement to Pharaoh, and establishing a new, covenant-based identity—that has something to do with what God is doing in the wilderness right here with Jesus. 

Except, well, God doesn’t show up in this story. The devil does.

And that’s another literary clue: rather than thinking about the devil as some red-tailed arch nemesis of God, we can see him function as a confronter in this story. Someone offering an alternative way of life.  

And like the devil so often does, he makes some good points. 

Hear me out. This first temptation: turning a stone to bread. Is that so bad? Like for a guy who turns water to wine, wouldn’t it be handy to make stones, which are everywhere, into loaves of bread for the impoverished multitude around him? If Jesus can turn stone into sourdough for himself, surely he can make it happen for others. 

What about the second temptation? Considering that we understand Jesus to have some idea about his coming fate and what he is trying to do in the world, wouldn’t it be helpful to have the command of all the kingdoms in the world? He will be killed by one such kingdom in the not so distant future. And with this option from the devil, he can just bypass bureaucratic choreography and get everybody on the same page in an instant. 

And this third temptation, that God will keep Jesus safe because God loves him. Without raising your hand, how many of us believe this on some level? Or if we don’t believe it now, then at some point we believed a version of it? Or someone we love believes it? That if we are beloved by God, which we supposedly are, then God will keep us safe. Safe from physical and emotional harm, safe from frailty and disease. Safe from accident and incident. Safe from death. If we just have faith, then things will turn out alright. That sounds really great. I’d love it if that were true. 

But I think we all understand it’s not. Given what we’ve seen in the past two years, in the past two weeks—we know that being beloved by God has nothing to do with safety. 

So in a lot of ways, the devil is proposing a more enticing religion than Jesus. I’m not worried about being smited, smote?, but I do feel a little prickly saying that. At a very primal level, I like what the devil is selling better. It makes me feel strong and secure.

But there’s another part of me that finds Jesus’ response intriguing. He had just spent a long time in the desert. He was hungry. He was lonely. He was grimy. He had sand in his loins and blisters on his feet. 

The desert is not a place one goes to be entertained or empowered. It’s not even a place one goes to hear from God because the desert says nothing. It just lies there like a bare skeleton: sparse, austere, and utterly worthless. It is motionless and silent. 

You can only be satisfied in the desert by giving up what you’re trying to comprehend. 

Becoming disoriented is the point. Losing control is the point.

That doesn’t sound like a fun time. 

And I’m not trying to be flippant here or paint the devil as a mischievous being trying to get Jesus to eat some ice cream and max out his screen time. 

What I mean is that in the devil’s economy, unmet desire is an unnecessary mistake. Rather than part of being human, not getting what you want is unacceptable and must be fixed immediately. The devil points at a part of creation, a stone, and immediately turns it into an object he can exploit, possess, and consume. By denying the hunger Jesus feels as a part of being human, he denies incarnation—the most miraculous gift of all.

The devil also shows Jesus “in an instant” all the kingdoms he could possess—unfettered power if he just buys into the life of exploitation. But the fact that he can show the kingdoms “in an instant” gives us a clue at how temporal kingdoms can be. Empires rise and empires fall. Jesus will be lifted up one day, that’s true. But it won’t be on a throne, it will be on a cross.

And then of course, the promise of safety. That somehow Jesus can leverage his own belovedness into an impenetrable shield. But we know that God’s precious ones still bleed, still ache, still die. Because being loved by God means we are loved in our vulnerability, not out of it. 

This life the devil offers sounds so good. I can’t imagine how it sounds when the world around feels desolate.

Except, well, maybe I can. 

Wars and rumors of wars, pestilence and famine—it sounds like it’s out of the ancient scripture, but it’s actually right out of our headlines. 

Maybe we know a little about wilderness in our lives, in our congregation, in our community. 

We know what it feels like to be lonely, to be hungry for the comforts of yesterday, to feel like the whole landscape has changed underneath our feet. 

I have to imagine that on some level, we are all itching to get out of this wilderness. That we feel like it’s a mistake or a judgment or an anomaly. This is not how the world is supposed to work, we might think. This is not what life is supposed to be like. And we are told by the devil, by our culture, capitalism, even some of our political and religious leaders—that the only way for us to proceed is to not be in the wilderness any more. 

Whether that means pillaging creation for our production and consumption, or aligning ourselves with power at any cost, or buying into the lie that immortality and invincibility can be ours with just one more purchase. These ethical dilemmas Jesus is offered are evergreen. They are offered to us every day. Because we have somehow been persuaded that the wilderness is no place for life, for God, for hope. That it’s unnatural to flourish in a desolate place. 

But did you know that one-fifth of the earth’s land mass is desert? Over a billion people—that’s one-seventh of the world’s population—live in desert lands. Communities have existed in deserts for as long as communities have existed. People have made their home in the wilderness and found life and love and meaning not as a temporary place to stay, but as home. 

The wilderness may lack babbling brooks and thick forests and forms of habitation that we have come to expect. But people who trust the desert as their home delight in its quality of simplicity. The desert imagination thrives on the absence of what others consider essential. It revels in negation, attending to what is unseen and what can’t be proved, and thought it provides few comforting assurances, it is still a place where one can flourish. It is still a place where hope can be found and meaning can be cultivated. It can even provide a home to those who have found themselves displaced. 

I wonder if our own wilderness journey is not about getting out of the desert. I wonder if our call in this desolate time, in a world that feels uninhabitable in every way, is to make ourselves at home. 

Rather than trying to find a way out, or to bring things back that once brought us comfort, or to worship what we consider “normal,” what if our call here today is to learn from those who know what’s it like to live here in the wilderness? What if we are meant to adjust our vision so that as we look at an endless geography of sand, we don’t see a barren landscape, but an invitation to find God here, too? 

Our ways of living will be different. The things that sustain us will require new rhythms. Our daily habits will adjust to respond to the harshness of the elements. Even the way we clothe ourselves and make our places of rest and work will change to accommodate this new terrain. But we can make a home here. We can find hope. We can find meaning. We can find God. We can flourish here, too. 

Amen. 

Table

As we prepare to take communion together in just a moment, I invite you to prepare your communion now. 

Join me in prayer:

Most Gracious Host, bless this bread given to us generously and indiscriminately. Bless this cup that overflows with the hope of a new covenant, the coming reign of God. We ask it in the name of Jesus, amen.  

As we look for God in this new landscape, adjusting our eyes to the blazing sun and arid horizon, we remember that God can be found everywhere. Where can I go from Your Spirit? If I make my bed in the depths of the sea, you are there, the Psalmist wrote.

But what I like about communion is that it’s like a standing appointment with God. Sometimes it’s mundane, and we sip our juice in dutiful silence and munch on our wafer with a hymn in our heart. 

And other days, it’s like the stars have aligned, all creation sings, and our heart feels as though it will burst. 

What matters most is that we keep our appointment. It’s the practice, the rhythm, that creates a path for the Holy One to catch our eye over bread and wine. And once the Holy One has our attention, our ears perk up, our attention narrows, and for a moment, nothing else matters. 

And so, we keep our appointment today, and tell the story that on the night he was betrayed, Jesus broke the bread and said, “This is my body, given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 

And then he took the cup also and said, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Drink it in remembrance of me.

For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” All are welcome at the Table of Christ.

Stewardship Moment

There are many ways to support and resource the ministries of Azle Christian Church: Venmo, giving online, or the offering plate. I also invite you to bring nonperishable items for our Little Free Pantry. The collection shelves for the pantry are in the Fellowship Hall right outside the kitchen. 

The deacons are going to hand these plates over during our final song, starting at the front row and they just to need make their way to the back where a deacon will collect them. You can drop your offering, an “I gave online card,” or an information card.

Invitation 

If you’d like to become a member of this faith community, or if you’d like to become a disciple of Jesus, please talk with me after service or sometime this week.
Benediction:

Please rise in body or spirit for our benediction, the final song, and the Doxology.

No matter how lost we feel,

May we remember that God’s grace is full to the brim.

It overflows in the desert places.

It finds us where we are and covers us in mercy.

Amen. 

Holy, Wholly, Holey - Behold: The Holy! (Luke 9:28-36)

Welcome/Call to Worship

Good morning! I’m Pastor Ashley Dargai To those here in the sanctuary and those joining us online: we are so glad you’re here! 

This morning, we will sing songs of worship, pray together, hear from scripture and one another, as we move toward the pinnacle of our service: the table of our Lord, where we will take the bread and drink the cup in remembrance of our most Gracious Host, Jesus. The purpose of our time together each Sunday is to bring our hearts closer to the heart of God, so I invite you to participate in as much or as little in our prepared liturgy as your spirit is willing. 

We welcome all sounds and smells from the youngest to the oldest among us. For our young ones, there is a coloring page and crayons for children to participate in worship as well as a designated area with toys in the back for families of little ones who need to move around and play to worship God. We believe that every age offers a unique perspective of the image of God, and we know that the energy and spirit of children can be different than adults and we consider that reality a gift.

There are visitor cards in the pew in front of you—if you arrived during the pandemic or later, of if you have moved and have not updated your info with the church, please fill it out and drop it in the offering plate when it goes by later in worship. 

A couple of announcements before we begin: 

If you’d like to join us for Sunday School at 10 AM on Sundays, you have a couple of options. There is an adult group meeting right now in the Seekers room that is reading Max Lucado’s Anxious for Nothing. There is another adult group beginning that will meet in the Heritage Chapel that will be studying Rachel Held Evans’ book, Wholehearted Faith. There is also a combined youth and children’s class that meets in the Parlor that is studying the big stories of the Bible. 

This Wednesday, we will have our Ash Wednesday service in the sanctuary at 7 pm. Pancakes will be served outside at 6 pm preceding the service.

If you haven’t already, make sure to pick up a Lent kit for home at either entry table. If you need one mailed to you, please comment on the livestream feed or contact the church office.

If you’re interested in joining a team from ACC to partner with Refugee Services of Texas, please let email the church office or let Nancy know.

To keep up with all the life we live together here at Azle Christian Church, make sure you follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our weekly e-blast and monthly newsletter. To sign up for the eblast and newsletter, go to our website, azlechristianchurch.org, and subscribe. There is also a live calendar on our website where you can see what we have going on each month. You can also find us on Instagram and TikTok, both at @azlechristianchurch.

We conclude our Epiphany series today. Transfiguration Sunday is the apex of Epiphany. For weeks, we’ve caught hints and glimpses of the holy in Jesus’ early ministry. A dove descending. Water to wine. A fishing next bursting from a miraculous catch. But today, we see Jesus in unveiled glory. We see the view from the mountaintop. 

Let’s pray to turn our hearts toward God for this hour.

Spirit of truth, open to us the scriptures, speaking your holy word through song, through the bread and cup, and through offering ourselves, and meet us here today in the living Christ. Amen.

Litany of Faith

One: The LORD is Sovereign; let the people tremble; the LORD is enthroned upon the cherubim; let the earth shake.

All: The LORD is great in Zion and is high above the peoples.

One: Let them confess the name of the LORD, the Great and Awesome One. The LORD is holy. 

All: O Mighty Sovereign, lover of justice, you have established equity; you have executed justice and righteousness in Israel!

One: Proclaim the greatness of the LORD our God.

All: Fall down before the footstool of the Holy One. 

(From Psalm 99)

Pastoral Prayer

The Lord be with you.

We add our prayers to the many across the world aching for peace and justice. This morning especially, we pray for Ukraine.

This week, we have seen unthinkable, unprovoked violence spread across Ukraine at the hands of Russian forces. We have looked helplessly on as individuals and as a country, sputtering in disbelief at a violence we have not seen in decades. One journalist called the invasion “anachronistic”—a literary term meaning that something belongs in a time period different than when is being portrayed. Not only might this invasion feel far away geographically, but it also feels detached from today’s reality of warfare. On the ground occupation? Bombing civilians? An dictator invading a peaceful sovereign country to usurp power? Our minds struggle to grasp the truth of it.

In my house this week, I have processed the news with two Eastern Europeans, my husband and my mother-in-law. My husband was born in 1985, just 4 years before the Soviet Union fell in Hungary. He grew up in a country trying to rebuild its identity and reestablish democracy. My mother-in-law grew up in Soviet-occupied Hungary. She tells stories of when Russian soldiers would come to town and she would dress as a boy to protect herself. You might remember in the 1950s when Hungarian Freedom Fighters attempted to overthrow Russia’s occupation only to be squashed down swiftly and violently. My husband’s family has Freedom Fighters in it, who had to flee the country in order to save their lives. And both of my husband’s grandfathers spent time as prisoners in Siberian work camps—forever altered by the torture and inhumane treatment they endured there. 

This week, Hungarian news outlets played in our house constantly. We heard from friends and family in Miskolc, my husband’s hometown, which is about an hour outside of Ukraine, who said goodbye to Ukrainian friends, colleagues, and teammates as they left Hungary for Ukraine for military service. We heard from friends who worked in hospitals preparing for the overflow of war injuries from Ukraine. We were sent videos of military helicopters flying over his cousin’s house. We processed how generational trauma—the kind that gets embedded in DNA, in fight or flight responses, and in family dynamics—might be bubbling to the surface in his family, in other Hungarian families, in Ukrainian families, in families all across Eastern Europe—all who know what it means to be occupied by the Russian military. 

I share all of this with my husband’s permission to say that the war unfolding may feel far away in a lot of ways, but it’s not. Even if my husband were from Detroit or Phoenix, what is happening over there is pertinent to us right here.  Because we are people of the table of Christ. An essential belief of our entire faith is that there is no us and them. There is only us—we are all together. We are inextricably connected. Our fates are bound up in each other. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr.: “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.” The Ukrainian people, the Russian people—we are all at the table together. 

And in addition to the unthinkable violence, we have also seen incredible courage rise up in the Ukrainian people and leaders. We have a seen an unflinching resolve in the face of a brutal dictator. We have seen unwavering commitment—the kind that later generations will read about it history books. 

And we pray for courage of the same stuff so that we may live into our calling to be people of both justice and peace, of solidarity with the suffering, of lovers of what is good. 

One of the most powerful disciplines we are called to as Christians is to bear witness. To not look away. To keep watch and to listen. To remember what we have seen and heard in front of God. 

There have been a lot of meaningful prayers written for Ukraine this week. 

But today, for our prayer together, I want to return to scripture. The Chief Rabbi of Ukraine has invited Christians and Jews alike to pray together Psalm 31.

I had initially planned a prayer from Howard Thurman, a black liberation theologian from the 20th century. I will begin with a few lines from that prayer because it is incredibly appropriate for this time. And then we will go on to pray parts of Psalm 31, knowing we add our prayers to Christians and Jewish people alike. And then we will end with the Lord’s Prayer, like we always do. 

Join me in prayer.

“Our little lives, our big problems—these we place upon Thy altar!

War and the threat of war has covered us with heavy shadows,

Making the days big with forebodings—

The nights crowded with frenzied dreams and restless churning.

We do not know how to do what we know to do.

We do not know how to be what we know to be.

Our little lives, our big problems—these we place upon Thy altar!” (from Howard Thurman)

From Psalm 31, we pray on behalf of the Ukrainian people:

In you, Lord, we have taken refuge;

    let us never be put to shame;

    deliver us in your righteousness.

2 Turn your ear to us,

    come quickly to our rescue;

be our rock of refuge,

    a strong fortress to save us.

3 Since you are our rock and our fortress,

    for the sake of your name lead and guide us.

4 Keep us free from the trap that is set for us,

    for you are our refuge.

5 Into your hands we commit our spirit;

    deliver us, Lord, faithful God.

6 We hate those who cling to worthless idols;

    as for us, we trust in the Lord.

7 We will be glad and rejoice in your love,

    for you saw our affliction

    and knew the anguish of our soul.

8 You have not given us into the hands of the enemy

    but have set our feet in a spacious place.

9 Be merciful to us, Lord, for we are in distress;

    our eyes grow weak with sorrow,

    our soul and body with grief.

10 Our life is consumed by anguish

    and our years by groaning;

our strength fails because of our affliction,

    and our bones grow weak.

11 Because of all our enemies,

    We are the utter contempt of our neighbors

and an object of dread to our closest friends—

    those who see us on the street flee from us.

12 We are forgotten as though we were dead;

    we have become like broken pottery.

13 For we hear many whispering,

    “Terror on every side!”

They conspire against us

    and plot to take our life.

14 But we trust in you, Lord;

    we say, “You are our God.”

15 Our times are in your hands;

    deliver us from the hands of our enemies,

    from those who pursue us.

We ask it in the name of our brother and redeemer Jesus, who taught to pray…

Our Father, who art in heaven

Hallowed be Thy name

Thy Kingdom come

Thy will be done

On earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever. 

Amen.

Sermon

Luke 9:28-36

28 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 

32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”—not knowing what he said. 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” 

36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God. 

There’s always more than one side to a story, or so the saying goes. Like the many sides of a mountain, with its curves and clefts, make up just one mountain, the many sides of a story, though different in its curves and secret places, make up just one story in the end. Maybe we should hear some of the sides out, for the sake of perspective.

Let’s start with the mountain. It was an ordinary day for the mountain that transfiguring day. Now, mountains don’t experience days the ways humans do. Time moves much more slowly for them. They learn to wait for what they need. That’s not to say they’re unchanging—it’s just that change takes thousands, hundreds of thousands of years to really display a discernible difference. Mountains don’t do anything in a hurry. 

And mountains communicate in a nonverbal, sensuous way. They may not shiver under a human’s touch, but they do register our steps, our stakes in the ground, our borrowing and stealing of its foliage. They may not speak words, but they do communicate. They may not have ears to hear, but they do know how to bear witness. The edges of their ridges, the grooves of their sides: they tell a story if we only learn to read it.

And the mountain had seen a lot in its time: wildfires, thunderstorms, devoted pilgrims and wily bandits. It had snuggled under a blanket of snow and been encased in a tomb of ice. It had soaked in the brilliant rays of the sun and withstood the unpredictable winds of high elevation. 

I give you the scope of the mountain’s experience because that day when four men trekked up it was not initially a day to remember. 

The mountain does not remember their names not because they were not memorable, but because mountains don’t identify humans by names, but by imprints.

The leader, who we know by the name of Jesus, tread reverently up the path, as if his feet were kissing the ground in salutations. 

The other three men, who we know by the names of Peter, James, and John, stomped up the mountain heavy-footed. Some mountains might feel like this heavy-footedness was disrespectful, but not this mountain. She thought the heavy-footedness communicated heavy-heartedness, a gait of someone carrying a difficult burden. 

When they arrived at the top, tickling the head of the mountain with their toes, she remembers their knees pressing into the soil. The mountain had always thought it was strange that humans differentiate communication with the Creator from the other parts of their lives. She simply was, and thus was in communion with the Great Holy Mountain. But humans seemed to have a more complicated relationship to the Great Holy Mountain. She had spent centuries, millennia even, trying to understand if this was the Great Holy Mountain’s doing or the humans’ doing. She is still contemplating it today.

Now she can’t fully explain what happened next. Suddenly, there were more feet on the ground than before. A cloud presided over the space. And then the mountain heard the voice of the Great Holy Mountain. It was unlike any way she had heard it before, except for that one time many years ago with the man we know as Moses, but she knew that resonance anywhere. 

A shift occurred in the world of humans soon after. The mountain has been paved in places since, has weathered countless more storms, and seen its landscape change in beautiful and terrifying ways. But that time during her life was distinct. She thinks about it often. 

But what about those humans? 

John’s version of the story is a little different than the mountain’s. He had been traveling with Jesus for awhile. He had recently seen Jesus feed five thousand people with just a few loaves of bread and a few fish. John had been sent out to drive out demons, heal the sick, and tell of the coming reign of God. 

Recently, Jesus had asked them what people were saying about him, which was surprising since Jesus didn’t really seem to care at all what people thought of him. But then he followed it up with a question that pierced John’s heart: who do you say that I am? Peter, ever the one to speak first, answered, “God’s Messiah.” And that was that.

John had stayed up late at night thinking about that. Messiah? I mean, he guessed he had been thinking along those lines, but if felt different to say the word out loud. 

And then about a week before, Jesus had started talking about his impending death. 

This was perplexing to John. Things had just gotten started. It felt like Jesus was finally getting some traction. But then. 

Jesus kept going and started talking about their death. Not just that he would die. But they would too. 

He wasn’t musing about the inevitability of mortality that falls on all, but rather, he was speaking of death as a way of life. That in order to save their life, they must lose it, whatever that means.

So needless to say, when Jesus invited a few of them to hike up the mountain with him, John agreed immediately. He planned to ask Jesus some follow-up questions on those Messiah and death conversations. That is, if he could get a word in around Peter.

But it turned out that John would have more obstacles to asking Jesus his questions than Peter’s relentlessness.  

Because just as they started to pray, Jesus’ face changed. It was like he was glowing from the inside out—the likes he had only heard about around the dinner table when his grandfather started talking about Moses. And almost as if John’s brain had manifested it, there was Moses standing in front of him! And the prophet Elijah, too! Surely he must be dreaming, he had thought in his grogginess. The men were standing with Jesus talking about an exodus, but not the one Moses was associated with. A new one. 

And then Peter, of course spoke up, and offered to build dwellings for all three of them. John rolled his eyes and tried to shush him, but secretly, John was just mad he didn’t think of it first.

But in the end, no one even acknowledged Peter. A cloud had come over them and John could have sworn he had heard someone speak from them. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but he knew it was about Jesus. And then when he turned his attention back to the ground, Moses and Elijah were gone. It was just Jesus there. 

Was this what always happened on mountain weekends with Jesus? Did mysterious, fantastical events always occur? Did one’s brain always get jumbled up in confusion only to find at the end Jesus standing there alone? 

John had spent a lot of time thinking about that day. Peter had offered to build those tents, but that clearly wasn’t the appropriate response for the moment. But why not? 

Were mountaintop experiences for validation or for clarification? Were they supposed to soothe the disciples’ concerns or challenge their notions about who Jesus was? John couldn’t figure it out.

He hadn’t told anyone about it. He hadn’t even talked with Peter and James about it. He could scarcely believe it himself.

The prophet Elijah remembers the day differently.

He had felt the cosmic rumbling of Jesus’ incarnation deep in his being, so it felt right that he would find Jesus and Moses on the mountain. Elijah remembered the stories his parents told around the dinner table about Moses and the deliverance from Egypt. How out in the wilderness, on the precipice of life anew for the Hebrew people, Moses had gone up a mountain himself, received a word from God and came down with his face aglow. 

Elijah wondered if the disciples remembered that story when they saw Jesus’ face aglow, too, up on that mountain. He hoped so. He really was rooting for them.

Now Elijah had interacted with all sorts of people during his life—the widow from Zarephath, who had needed help for her and her son to survive. King Ahab’s people—yeesh—with whom he had gotten in a Whose-God-Is-Bigger match on Mt. Carmel,. This wasn’t his first rodeo on a mountain.

But he had always felt a special connection with Moses and now Jesus. Maybe it was because he knew, in the way that time in God’s hands is both pinched and stretched out, that it was because they all had mysterious departures from earth. 

Moses, who died before entering the Promised Land, had the most normal death of them all, but no one could ever find his bones. Where had they gone? Where had he gone? 

And Jesus would go on to be crucified, a most heinous way to die, but then he would rise from the dead and ascend to the heavens. 

And of course, his own departure. In a fiery chariot into the sky, or so the story goes. He’ll never tell what really happened. 

He remembers that transfiguring day fondly, excitedly chatting with the others about the exodus—what the disciples would know as the coming reign of God. He wished he could have stayed a little longer to dream with Moses and Jesus. Based on Peter’s offer to build them all tents, the disciples wanted that, too. But he sensed as the clouds rolled in and he heard the Holy One’s voice that his time was up. 

He really had hoped the three disciples with Jesus that day would understand what was happening, the weight of glory in that moment. But he knew from what came after that they didn’t, at least not until it was too late. Peter denied Jesus. They all abandoned him at the cross and kept trying to make the kingdom a usurping militaristic government, which is never the way of God. None of them would talk about that mountain day again. Though the mountaintop experience is often glorified in faith, it didn’t seem to change any of them in the long run. 

And look, Elijah knows that seeing as how the details of his departure from earth are fuzzy at best, he understands he is not the best candidate to lecture others about the way of dying. He knew that the descent down the mountain was a fateful one for Jesus. Jesus would head to Jerusalem to face his death, and just a week or so after talking to the disciples about losing their lives to find them. 

How Elijah had wished that the men could see that unveiled faces and hear creation’s groaning—all of the things present in that moment on the mountain—were lights along the way into the valley of death. Lanterns they could carry. They were a vision of what was to come, of what was already becoming. 

He wished they could see that true faithfulness, the kind Jesus was trying to get at with his talk about death, was not freezing a moment or seeking to stay on the mountain forever away from real life. But it was carrying with them what they found on that mountain with Jesus as they go into the valley. 

It is time now for us to descend. We turn our faces toward Jerusalem this week, carrying what we have witnessed as a hope for what is to come. 

Amen.

Stewardship Moment

There are many ways to support and resource the ministries of Azle Christian Church: Venmo, giving online, or the offering plate. I also invite you to bring nonperishable items for our Little Free Pantry. The collection shelves for the pantry are in the Fellowship Hall right outside the kitchen. 

The deacons are going to hand these plates over during our final song, starting at the front row and they just to need make their way to the back where a deacon will collect them. You can drop your offering, an “I gave online card,” or an information card.

Invitation 

If you’d like to become a member of this faith community, or if you’d like to become a disciple of Jesus, please talk with me after service or sometime this week.

Benediction:

Please rise in body or spirit for our benediction, the final song, and the Doxology.

May we receive this gift of astonishment anew each day,

Trusting that the God who surprises us is the God who will sustain us. 

May our wonder turn into worship, and may our worship lead us down the mountain with Jesus, ready to continue his work here and now. 

Amen.

Holy, Wholly, Holey - Wholly Calling (Luke 6:27-38)

Welcome/Call to Worship

Good morning! I’m Pastor Ashley Dargai To those here in the sanctuary and those joining us online: we are so glad you’re here! 

This morning, we will sing songs of worship, pray together, hear from scripture and one another, as we move toward the pinnacle of our service: the table of our Lord, where we will take the bread and drink the cup in remembrance of our most Gracious Host, Jesus. The purpose of our time together each Sunday is to bring our hearts closer to the heart of God, so I invite you to participate in as much or as little in our prepared liturgy as your spirit is willing. 

We welcome all sounds and smells from the youngest to the oldest among us. For our young ones, there is a coloring page and crayons for children to participate in worship as well as a designated area with toys in the back for families of little ones who need to move around and play to worship God. We believe that every age offers a unique perspective of the image of God, and we know that the energy and spirit of children can be different than adults and we consider that reality a gift.

There are visitor cards in the pew in front of you—if you arrived during the pandemic or later, of if you have moved and have not updated your info with the church, please fill it out and drop it in the offering plate when it goes by later in worship. 

A couple of announcements before we begin: 

If you’d like to join us for Sunday School at 10 AM on Sundays, you have a couple of options. There is an adult group meeting right now in the Seekers room that is reading Max Lucado’s Anxious for Nothing. There is another adult group beginning that will meet in the Heritage Chapel that will be studying Rachel Held Evans’ book, Wholehearted Faith. There is also a combined youth and children’s class that meets in the Parlor that is studying the big stories of the Bible. 

If you’d like to volunteer at our next Food Hub, which is this Saturday, be sure to sign up online. The link can be found on Facebook or in our blast. You can also help with Food Hub by sponsoring a $15 dry good bag.

If you’re interested in joining a team from ACC to partner with Refugee Services of Texas, please let email the church office or let Nancy know.

To keep up with all the life we live together here at Azle Christian Church, make sure you follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our weekly e-blast and monthly newsletter. To sign up for the eblast and newsletter, go to our website, azlechristianchurch.org, and subscribe. There is also a live calendar on our website where you can see what we have going on each month. You can also find us on Instagram and TikTok, both at @azlechristianchurch.

We continue our Epiphany series today: Holy, Wholly, Holey, as we make ourselves comfortable on the plain as Jesus concludes his sermon. Today will be a little different—in lieu of a sermon, we will be participating in a scripture reading practice known as lectio divina. We’ll explain everything at that time. 

Let’s pray to turn our hearts toward God for this hour.

Spirit of truth, open to us the scriptures, speaking your holy word through song, through the bread and cup, and through offering ourselves, and meet us here today in the living Christ. Amen.

Litany of Faith

One: Commit your way to the Lord; trust in God, and God will act.

All: God will make your vindication shine like the light, and the justice of your cause like the noonday.

One: Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for God.

All: Do not fret over those who prosper in their way,over those who carry out evil devices.

(From Psalm 37)

Pastoral Prayer

The Lord be with you. 

For the month of February, which is Black History Month, we will be praying prayers from Black ministers and theologians. This morning, we borrow from the heart of Iyabo Onipede, a liberation educator and theology teacher in the Lee Arrendale State Prison for Women in Georgia. We will be praying an excerpt from one of her prayers.

Join me in prayer.

When the invisible “other,” obscured by the blinding mixture of power and privilege, asks to be seen as whole and human, to be heard as valuable and precious, to be received into the full fold of community, Lord, hear their prayers. 

As we enter into the awareness of what abuse of power does to the abuser, as we acknowledge how we’ve abandoned those over whom we wielded our power, as we become aware of the neglect and the stinging isolation that we have caused, Eternal Repairer of the breach, make us whole again. 

We recognize that though we may be afraid to trust one another and to move toward shared and mutual respect, we choose to dig deep and have faith. We yield to the Mystery that is at work. We each make the choice to share our newfound power within by reaching out to others, by showing love, by being empathic, by listening, by sharing wealth, by disclosing opportunities, by believing the best of one another. Waymaker, teach us how to relate to one another the way you intended. 

We acknowledge that the opposite of love is not hate; it is neglect. We acknowledge that we are incomplete without your healing. We acknowledge that we have not understood, and we release false knowledge. We accept the sacred gift of resilience that is present where there has been abuse and suffering. 

Eternal Peacemaker, we bow in awe before you. Stir in us compassion for one another. Counsel us to see one another as wholly human. Teach us to embrace the preciousness of all creation. Create in us empathy as we hear one another’s lived experiences. Plant in us a sustaining wisdom that brings healing and reconciliation. Seal in us that eternal hope that is rooted in you. In the Sacred Holiness that created us, redeems us, and sustain us, we humbly ask that you, Our Great Love, hear our prayer. 

We ask it in the name of our brother and redeemer Jesus, who taught to pray…

Our Father, who art in heaven

Hallowed be Thy name

Thy Kingdom come

Thy will be done

On earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever. 

Amen.

Sermon

This morning, we are doing something a little different for a sermon. We will be engaging in a  contemplative practice similar to a lectio divina practice. If you don’t know what lectio divina is, no worries. I will explain it. 

Lectio Divina is a practice of reading scripture not for learning something practical or theological, but rather to allow the Living Spirit of Christ to speak to us through a word, a phrase, a pause. It lets the text be the text as it speaks to our own hearts. 

We will begin by taking a moment of silence to invite the Holy Spirit into our encounter with the text. Then we will read the scripture in 3 different translations, pausing in between each one to sing in response to the word. For our fourth and final reading, we will do a responsive reading together and then conclude with song. Nicole, do you want to explain the music portion? 

(Nicole gives music plan)

The scripture and its various translations are an insert in your bulletin. For our readings, you can follow along or close your eyes. To begin, we will take a moment of silence to invite the Spirit into our reading. I will begin our first reading afterward, which is on the back of your bulletin. 

Luke 6:27-38 (NRSV)

27 “But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. 29 If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. 30 Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. 31 Do to others as you would have them do to you.

32 “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33 If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34 If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. 35 But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. 36 Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

37 “Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; 38 give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

“Brother” verse (brother)

Luke 6:27-39 (CEB)

27 “But I say to you who are willing to hear: Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. 28 Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who mistreat you. 29 If someone slaps you on the cheek, offer the other one as well. If someone takes your coat, don’t withhold your shirt either. 30 Give to everyone who asks and don’t demand your things back from those who take them. 31 Treat people in the same way that you want them to treat you.

32 “If you love those who love you, why should you be commended? Even sinners love those who love them. 33 If you do good to those who do good to you, why should you be commended? Even sinners do that. 34 If you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, why should you be commended? Even sinners lend to sinners expecting to be paid back in full. 35 Instead, love your enemies, do good, and lend expecting nothing in return. If you do, you will have a great reward. You will be acting the way children of the Most High act, for he is kind to ungrateful and wicked people. 36 Be compassionate just as your Father is compassionate.

37 “Don’t judge, and you won’t be judged. Don’t condemn, and you won’t be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. 38 Give, and it will be given to you. A good portion—packed down, firmly shaken, and overflowing—will fall into your lap. The portion you give will determine the portion you receive in return.”

“Brother” verse (sister)

Luke 6:27-38 (MSG)

To you who are ready for the truth, I say this: Love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the supple moves of prayer for that person. If someone slaps you in the face, stand there and take it. If someone grabs your shirt, giftwrap your best coat and make a present of it. If someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more payback. Live generously.

31-34 “Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them! If you only love the lovable, do you expect a pat on the back? Run-of-the-mill sinners do that. If you only help those who help you, do you expect a medal? Garden-variety sinners do that. If you only give for what you hope to get out of it, do you think that’s charity? The stingiest of pawnbrokers does that.

35-36 “I tell you, love your enemies. Help and give without expecting a return. You’ll never—I promise—regret it. Live out this God-created identity the way our Father lives toward us, generously and graciously, even when we’re at our worst. Our Father is kind; you be kind.

37-38 “Don’t pick on people, jump on their failures, criticize their faults—unless, of course, you want the same treatment. Don’t condemn those who are down; that hardness can boomerang. Be easy on people; you’ll find life a lot easier. Give away your life; you’ll find life given back, but not merely given back—given back with bonus and blessing. Giving, not getting, is the way. Generosity begets generosity.”

“Brother” bridge

Luke 6:27-38 (Responsive Reading)

One: But I say to you that listen: love your enemies. 

Right: Do good to those who hate you.

Left: Bless those who curse you.

All: Pray for those who mistreat you. 

Right: If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also. 

Left: From anyone who takes away your coat, do not withhold even your shirt. 

One: Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. 

All: Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Right: If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? 

Left: For even sinners love those who love them. 

Right: If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? 

Left: For even sinners do the same. 

Right: If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? 

Left: Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. 

All: But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. 

One: Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for God is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. 

All: Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

Right: Do not judge, and you will not be judged. 

Left: Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. 

Right: Forgive, and you will be forgiven. 

Left: Give, and it will be given to you. 

One: A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; 

All: for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.

One: I say to you that listen:

All: Love your enemies. 

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God.

“Brother” reprise (brother, sister, mother, father)

Stewardship Moment

There are many ways to support and resource the ministries of Azle Christian Church: Venmo, giving online, or the offering plate. I also invite you to bring nonperishable items for our Little Free Pantry. The collection shelves for the pantry are in the Fellowship Hall right outside the kitchen. 

The deacons are going to hand these plates over during our final song, starting at the front row and they just to need make their way to the back where a deacon will collect them. You can drop your offering, an “I gave online card,” or an information card.

Invitation 

If you’d like to become a member of this faith community, or if you’d like to become a disciple of Jesus, please talk with me after service or sometime this week.

Benediction:

Please rise in body or spirit for our benediction, the final song, and the Doxology.

We have sung the songs of faith.

We have heard the challenges of scripture.

Let us go now,

continuing our sacred journey

in an attitude of service and grace.

Let us love our enemies

and pray for those who do us harm.

And the presence of our God goes with us. Amen.

Holy, Wholly, Holey - ...Wholly His Own (Luke 4:21-30)

Welcome/Call to Worship

Good morning! I’m Pastor Ashley Dargai To those here in the chapel and those joining us online: we are so glad you’re here! 

This morning, we will sing songs of worship, pray together, hear from scripture and one another, as we move toward the pinnacle of our service: the table of our Lord, where we will take the bread and drink the cup in remembrance of our most Gracious Host, Jesus. The purpose of our time together each Sunday is to bring our hearts closer to the heart of God, so I invite you to participate in as much or as little in our prepared liturgy as your spirit is willing.

We welcome all sounds and smells from the youngest to the oldest among us. For our young ones, there is a coloring page and crayons for children to participate in worship as well as a designated area with toys in the back for families of little ones who need to move around and play to worship God. We believe that every age offers a unique perspective of the image of God, and we know that the energy and spirit of children can be different than adults and we consider that reality a gift.

There are visitor cards in the pew in front of you—if you arrived during the pandemic or later, of if you have moved and have not updated your info with the church, please fill it out and drop it in the offering plate when it goes by later in worship. 

A couple of announcements before we begin: 

If you’d like to join us for Sunday School at 10 AM on Sundays, you have a couple of options. There is an adult group meeting right now in the Seekers room that is reading Max Lucado’s Anxious for Nothing. There will be another adult group beginning on February 13 that will be studying Rachel Held Evans’ book, Wholehearted Faith. There is also a combine youth and children’s class that meets in the Parlor that is studying the big stories of the Bible. 

Many thanks to our Cabinet! We had a wonderful Cabinet Retreat yesterday!

On February 6th, we will have Community Care Sunday. One simple way to care for the transient neighbors who knock on our door is through small care packages that contain toiletries and snacks. On Community Care Sunday, we will assemble these care packs immediately following service to be available for distribution as needed. We invite you to bring travel size toiletries in the coming weeks leading up to that Sunday. A collection point is set-up by the sanctuary.

On February 13th, we will have a Super Bowl party—a Soup-er Bowl party. Come watch the game and bring a can of soup either to church or the game for our Little Free Pantry. Location TBD. 

To keep up with all the life we live together here at Azle Christian Church, make sure you follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our weekly e-blast and monthly newsletter. To sign up for the eblast and newsletter, go to our website, azlechristianchurch.org, and subscribe. There is also a live calendar on our website where you can see what we have going on each month. You can also find us on Instagram and TikTok, both at @azlechristianchurch.

We continue our Epiphany series today: Holy, Wholly, Holey, as we conclude our time with Jesus in his hometown synagogue. 

Let’s pray to turn our hearts toward God for this hour.

Spirit of truth, open to us the scriptures, speaking your holy word through song, through the bread and cup, and through offering ourselves, and meet us here today in the living Christ. Amen.

Litany of Faith

One: In you, O Lord, I take refuge; let me never be put to shame. In your righteousness deliver me and rescue me; incline your ear to me and save me.

All: Be to me a rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress.

One: Rescue me, O my God, from the hand of the wicked, from the grasp of the unjust and cruel.

All: For you, O Lord, are my hope, my trust, O Lord, from my youth.

(From Psalm 71:1-5)

Pastoral Prayer

The Lord be with you.

(From Calling on God)

O holy nurturing Dawn of life,

The quiet epiphanies of late winter are all around us,

And we respond with gratitude and thanks. 

Hear now the prayers we bring,

The words we share and the images that blossom in our hearts.

When all the world seems cold and foreboding,

It’s somehow easier to find the places where there doesn’t seem to be love enough to go around.

The holidays are long behind us now,

And we seem to miss their tinsel distractions

As we step out in the cold. 

We watch as little signs of hope are tossed aside,

Like Jesus in his own hometown,

A voice for change and healing,

Rejected because it came from someone too familiar.

We want to hear that voice of Christ today,

Those promises that prophecy will be fulfilled,

But somehow it is often easier for us

To see the problem, rather than the Gospel.

Frozen hearts are everywhere,

And miracles are hard to see,

And harder to believe.

But hopeful, invigorating Messenger of spring,

We bring our prayers for those in pain,

For those whose burdens keep them in the cold,

For those who sorrows flows like winter rain.

Hear now our prayers for faith, and hope, and love.

We lift our prayers as part of your body

Incarnate in this time and place,

The body of Christ, Emmanuel,

God among us.

We ask it in the name of our brother and redeemer Jesus, who taught to pray…

Our Father, who art in heaven

Hallowed be Thy name

Thy Kingdom come

Thy will be done

On earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever. 

Amen.

Sermon

Luke 4:21-30 (CEB)

21 He began to explain to them, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled just as you heard it.”

22 Everyone was raving about Jesus, so impressed were they by the gracious words flowing from his lips. They said, “This is Joseph’s son, isn’t it?”

23 Then Jesus said to them, “Undoubtedly, you will quote this saying to me: ‘Doctor, heal yourself. Do here in your hometown what we’ve heard you did in Capernaum.’” 24 He said, “I assure you that no prophet is welcome in the prophet’s hometown. 25 And I can assure you that there were many widows in Israel during Elijah’s time, when it didn’t rain for three and a half years and there was a great food shortage in the land. 26 Yet Elijah was sent to none of them but only to a widow in the city of Zarephath in the region of Sidon. 27 There were also many persons with skin diseases in Israel during the time of the prophet Elisha, but none of them were cleansed. Instead, Naaman the Syrian was cleansed.”

28 When they heard this, everyone in the synagogue was filled with anger. 29 They rose up and ran him out of town. They led him to the crest of the hill on which their town had been built so that they could throw him off the cliff. 30 But he passed through the crowd and went on his way.

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God.

I said last week that the text we read was only half the story. And today, we finish the story. So…

Previously, on Days of our Epiphany…

Long-lost beloved, Jesus, returns home after making a name for himself out on the open road. Was this the Jesus they remembered? Or had he become an enigma, a miracle worker and prophetic teacher? After a dramatic reading in the synagogue, he had the whole room captivated. Could the town be revived again with the hometown hero’s return? Or are things not as they seem? Will his return be full of emotional twists and turns, severing familial ties and resulting in his death? Will this story end on a cliffhanger? Find out on today’s episode of Days of Our Epiphany.

We pick up where we left off last week. Jesus has read the scroll of Isaiah: the Spirit of the Lord is upon him. His work is to preach good news to the poor, free the captives and the oppressed, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, which invokes the ancient concept of Jubilee, a blanket debt forgiveness and emancipation of the enslaved, essentially resetting society. He rolls the scroll up, hands it over, and sits down. And then, just as everyone thinks the Jesus they know and love is finished, Jesus pipes up, “Today, this Scripture has been fulfilled.” So far, so good. Sounds great. Looks like it will be a lovely Saturday morning at synagogue with this sweet reunion. The crowd beams with pride. They receive his words with graciousness. They whisper among themselves, “What a fine young man. Isn’t this Joseph’s son?” Think about Jesus’ origin story for a second here.

If Jesus would have just kept his mouth shut from this point forward, maybe this story, maybe his life story, would have ended differently. 

If only.

This next scene is often seen as the synagogue taking an abrupt change of tone. That somehow, their unbelief, their lack of buy-in to Jesus’ mission, is what makes them rage with murderous intent. 

But if we’re paying attention, it’s Jesus who changes the tone. Perhaps provoked by these whispers of claiming him as one of their own, of possessing him as any group does of the ones who grow up among them, Jesus turns around and confronts them. He anticipates their next step, of expecting him to perform the same miracles in his hometown that he did out on the road. If he will do it for all those on the outside, then surely, he will do it for the place from which he came. 

He assures them that this will not be the case. That never is a prophet welcome in their hometown. Just as Elijah reached outside of his group to feed a widow, and just as Elisha reached outside of his group to heal a Syrian man, so, too, will Jesus reach outside for his mission. 

I don’t know about you, but I certainly do not like for people to yell at me from a place of assumption out of seemingly nowhere, and this crowd of synagogue-attendees did not like it either. In fact, so the story goes, they ran Jesus out of town, to the edge of a cliff, so that the story does end on a cliffhanger of sorts. But Jesus somehow gets away. 

It’s like watching a scary movie, and in the beginning the family is so happy, and they have a trusty dog and plans for the future. And you just keep hoping that they will decide to not go into that abandoned building after all. Or their dog will not investigate that weird sound out in the woods. If they just minded their business, maybe they could continue living happily ever after, a nice normal family life in a cabin in Pennsylvania with their dog who will not become a conduit or target of whatever evil might be lurking out there.

But alas, the family goes into the building. The dog investigates the sound. Jesus opens his mouth.

We know of course that this is an intra-Jewish conflict, and we are not Jewish. We’re Christians in the 21st century trying to make sense of an argument that Jesus was having with the synagogue, that the writer of Luke was having with his fellow Jewish siblings at the time of writing. So we tread lightly, knowing the assumptions we bring are tainted by time, Western culture, and our native tongue of Christianity. We try hard to avoid stepping onto anti-Jewish sentiment as we wade through this story, because our beloved Savior was a Jew. His followers were Jews. The early church was Jewish. 

It seems strange to me that this story is split like it is in the lectionary. The first half that we read last week seems so hopeful. But the second half seems to steal all the sweetness away. 

Reverend Barbara Brown Taylor tells of a time when she was at a retreat and the beginning exercise was to share about an experience when someone was Christ to them. Perhaps you have a story that comes to mind. People told stories of a friend being there in time of need. A stranger helping them in the middle of the night. A community surrounding them when they lost everything. The stories were ones of comfort and rescue. But then they got to the last person in the circle, who had a weird look on her face. 

And she said, “Well, if I’m thinking of someone who was Christ to me, then I’m wondering who has told me the truth in such a way that I wanted to throw them off a cliff.”

Images of Jesus are all over this church. There are the figurines—his face indiscernible except for the recognizable contours of a nose or eyebrows. There’s the surplus of pictures in children’s books. There’s sweet baby Jesus in his mother’s arms in the painting in the hallway. There are a few historically inaccurate representations of Jesus with blue eyes, porcelain skin, and a 1970s mullet, that I like to call Disco Jesus. And then there’s a painting somewhere in this church, and I will not tell you which one, that I call the “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” Jesus. 

Obviously, all our renderings of Jesus either on a canvas or in our imaginations are inadequate. Jesus, the Cosmic Christ, who reigns with God and was with God in the beginning of time, transcends our best conjurings of him. Even if we were to make a mosaic with all of our individual understandings, we’d still not get him right because he has a way of slipping through our hands, slipping through the crowds, slipping out of our possession of him. 

And perhaps stories like today’s help give a more defined shape to the Jesus we know. He is not a mere gentle shepherd, who welcomes children and likes to go fishing with his friends. He is not just the devout boy who likes to spend all day studying the scriptures and being in the temple. 

He is also someone who cuts to the heart of our most protected assumptions of him. The disconcerting truth about this second part of the story is that we are likely the modern day equivalent of Jesus’ ancient townspeople. We’re the ones who think we know Jesus best. 

But what if this week’s gospel, the good news, is a call to disillusionment? What if it were a call to drop the scales from our eyes, to eat a meal with a familiar stranger, to open our door to a knock in the middle of the night, and suddenly see Jesus in a new light?

If we hear that knock in the middle of the night, the one in our hearts calling us to come and investigate what is out there, we might find that we are entertaining angels. Or, we might find that it’s a thief in the night. 

But Jesus, the Good Shepherd, the Son of God and Most Human One, is also known as a thief in the night. He’s wily and slippery—always evading our attempts to pin him down and domesticate him for our purposes. 

And I wonder if that’s what Jesus was getting at it with his abrupt change of attitude in the synagogue that morning. That in a way, he’s preemptively preparing them for what is to come. He is not Joseph’s son—it was a whole thing 30 something years before. He is God’s Son, and he has been anointed by the Spirit to effectively turn things upside down. And in the process of turning, everything gets jumbled up and dislodged and messy and out of place. 

And he’s saying, this is the way to God getting everything God wants! I promise this is good news! It just may feel like getting hit by something or losing the stability you had taken for granted or seeing the world in a different, frightening light. This good news might make you so mad that you want to chase me off a cliff!

I’d like to think that at hearing the words of Jesus: “Spirit of the Lord, good news, year of the Lord’s favor, etc.” that I would nod our head enthusiastically and say, “Sign me up, Jesus!” 

But in this presentation of a slippery, not-playing-it-safe Jesus, I’m afraid I’m more likely to be the one trying to grasp onto my previous iterations of him, of life before this upheaval. That I would demand constancy over curiosity, monotony over mystery, certainty over surrender. That I would even fail to recognize that it’s Jesus at all who is calling us out of our silos and our routines and our well-worn paths of faith. That suddenly, with my extinguished hopes, my suspicions, my fears, I might find the first cliff to shove them over in an attempt to ensure my own safety and survival.

But the good news is that always, always, Jesus will slip through our resistance, our facades, our denial, beckoning us toward the world-altering, soul-blooming, cosmos-expanding truth that will finally bring all of God’s children peace, comfort, and hope. 

May we pause when we feel ourselves hurtling toward the cliff. May we allow ourselves to be disillusioned with our tightly held images of Jesus so that we might see the Son of God right before us, in our midst, saying, “Today, the good news is true!.” Amen.

Stewardship Moment

There are many ways to support and resource the ministries of Azle Christian Church: Venmo, giving online, or the offering plate. I also invite you to bring nonperishable items for our Little Free Pantry. The collection shelves for the pantry are in the Fellowship Hall right outside the kitchen. 

The deacons are going to hand these plates over during our final song, starting at the front row and they just to need make their way to the back where a deacon will collect them. You can drop your offering, an “I gave online card,” or an information card.

Invitation 

If you’d like to become a member of this faith community, or if you’d like to become a disciple of Jesus, please talk with me after service or sometime this week.

Benediction:

Please rise in body or spirit for our benediction, the final song, and the Doxology.

Holy God, you gather the whole universe

into your radiant presence

and continually reveal your Son as our Savior.

Bring healing to all wounds,

make whole all that is broken,

speak truth to all illusion,

and shed light in every darkness,

that all creation will see your glory and know your Christ. Amen.

Holy, Wholly, Holey - Wholly Ours (Luke 4:14-21)

Welcome/Call to Worship

Good morning! I’m Pastor Ashley Dargai To those here in the chapel and those joining us online: we are so glad you’re here! 

This morning, we will sing songs of worship, pray together, hear from scripture and one another, as we move toward the pinnacle of our service: the table of our Lord, where we will take the bread and drink the cup in remembrance of our most Gracious Host, Jesus. The purpose of our time together each Sunday is to bring our hearts closer to the heart of God, so I invite you to participate in as much or as little in our prepared liturgy as your spirit is willing. 

We welcome all sounds and smells from the youngest to the oldest among us. For our young ones, there is a coloring page and crayons for children to participate in worship as well as a designated area with toys in the back for families of little ones who need to move around and play to worship God. We believe that every age offers a unique perspective of the image of God, and we know that the energy and spirit of children can be different than adults and we consider that reality a gift.

There are visitor cards in the pew in front of you—if you arrived during the pandemic or later, of if you have moved and have not updated your info with the church, please fill it out and drop it in the offering plate when it goes by later in worship. 

A couple of announcements before we begin: 

Sunday School offerings

Our Cabinet Retreat was rescheduled to January 29, from 9-12 on Zoom.

On February 6th, we will have Community Care Sunday. One of the unseen ministries of Azle Christian Church is caring for the transient neighbors who knock on our door. One simple way to care for them is through small care packages that contain toiletries and snacks. On Community Care Sunday, we will assemble these care packs immediately following service to be available for distribution as needed. We invite you to bring travel size toiletries in the coming weeks leading up to that Sunday. A collection point will be set-up by the sanctuary.

To keep up with all the life we live together here at Azle Christian Church, make sure you follow us on Facebook and subscribe to our weekly e-blast and monthly newsletter. To sign up for the eblast and newsletter, go to our website, azlechristianchurch.org, and subscribe. There is also a live calendar on our website where you can see what we have going on each month. You can also find us on Instagram and TikTok, both at @azlechristianchurch.

We continue our Epiphany series today: Holy, Wholly, Holey, as we return home to Nazareth with Jesus for a trip to the synagogue. 

Let’s pray to turn our hearts toward God for this hour.

Spirit of truth, open to us the scriptures, speaking your holy word through song, through the bread and cup, and through offering ourselves, and meet us here today in the living Christ. Amen.

Litany of Faith

One: The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul; the decrees of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple;

All: The precepts of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart; the commandment of the Lord is clear, enlightening the eyes;

One: The fear of the Lord is pure, enduring forever;

All: The ordinances of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.

One: More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey, and drippings of the honeycomb.

All: Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

(Psalm 19:7-10, 14)

Pastoral Prayer

The Lord be with you.

We hold in prayer Eugene Wadsworth and his family as he was put on hospice this past week.

Join me in prayer. 

(From Calling on God)

Wonderful Architect of culture and community,

Holy Lover of life,

We’ve come from near and far to share with those we love this special hour with you.

We marvel at your wisdom:

The way your commandments 

Enlighten the eyes of the faithful;

The way you help us make the holy day a day of celebration;

The way you call us to the joyful task

Of being one particular part of your vast creation.

We marvel at how you mold each one of us

Into a unique part of your body,

And how each part has its own important role to play

In our life together.

Holy Creator of all that we cannot imagine,

We offer now our prayers of praise and thanks,

Our prayers of wonder and hope,

For all that you are doing in these days

To nourish a hopeful future for our world.

We lift them in our hearts,

And share them together in this sacred space.

O Giver of perfect law that promises to revive the soul,

Maker of those true and righteous words,

We pray that you will fill us with that Holy Spirit,

For we gather as one tiny part of the body of the risen Christ,

A beacon of the hope and light and love we claim

For this day and the days to come. 

We ask it in the name of our brother and redeemer Jesus, who taught to pray…

Our Father, who art in heaven

Hallowed be Thy name

Thy Kingdom come

Thy will be done

On earth as it is in heaven

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors

And lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever. 

Amen.

Children’s Moment

In today’s story, Jesus returns home to his synagogue and reads a scripture for everyone. We don’t know if it was his favorite, but his life definitely reflects what the verses say: captives free, people healed, good news for the poor! And then he says, “Today, this is true!” 

What if we thought about scripture as “today! This is true!” Sometimes it’s hard for us to think about the future because it’s so big and unknown! And sometimes we have things from the past that are hard. But we can think about today! What we’re going to eat, what we’re going to play, if we’re gonna take a nap after church. And we can also think about what God is saying to and through us today! 

Let’s pray:

God, may your word come alive in us anew every day. Amen.

Sermon

Luke 4:14-21

14 Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country. 15 He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone.

16 When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, 17 and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:

18 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

    because he has anointed me

        to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

    and recovery of sight to the blind,

        to let the oppressed go free,

19 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

20 And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. 21 Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

This is the word of God for the people of God. Thanks be to God.

I have a hunger for history lessons about Azle Christian Church. When COVID first came into our collective consciousness, I immediately thought, “Hey, wait a second…this won’t be the first pandemic this church has weathered. They were kicking during the Flu Pandemic of 1918.” I have yet to find any stories or records on what the church did during that time, but for whatever reason, just knowing this was not the church’s first pandemic brought me comfort. 

Right now on TikTok, we’re doing a series of videos from Scottie, our unofficial church historian, where she tells all sorts of stories of life at ACC. How this church came to be, their hand in the first library in Azle, how we shared ministers with the Methodist church for awhile, how women were running the church long before a woman pastored here for the first time. 

Anytime one of you has the story behind a tree or a table or the chapel, I eat it up, savoring every bite, dreaming of its taste for days afterward. You all give voice to the stories that these walls would tell if they could. 

I think I love these stories so much because there’s a rootedness to them. It helps for my short life to find something to hold onto. Fun fact, not one member of this church today was alive when the church began. Some are related to founding members, but the fact remains that this dynamic entity known as Azle Christian Church has been around longer than anyone living on this earth. ACC turns 139 years old this year. Isn’t that something? Compared to some churches in the Northeast and especially in Europe and Africa, it’s a young church, I know. But still! There is a beautiful history whose ivy-like arms run down the generations saying, “Here is a place for you. What new life will you sprout up today?” 

If the walls could talk here, in this sanctuary, in the chapel, what might they say? What have they borne witness to? Do you think they have opinions about church music? Do you think they appreciate the candle-lighting on Christmas Eve or do they look warily upon all that fire? How many sermons have they listened to? How many times have they heard, “This is my body, given for you. This is my blood, a sign of the new covenant. Do this in remembrance of me.” How many people have leaned on them for support as they listened to a friend pour their heart out? Do you think they beam with pride when we hang greens and banners on them for Advent? Do they feel bare when they’re stripped down for Lent? What scriptures do these walls know by heart?

I wonder if the synagogue walls where Jesus read this scripture had stories like ours. Did those walls have memories of little boys running before service to get one more mad dash in before the readings began? Did they lean in a little closer as the prayers started, hoping to catch a little holy brilliance? How many times had they heard this scripture from Isaiah before? Was it like new every time? Did they know that this particular day when Jesus read it would be distinct?

This is a classic story of hometown boy grows up and makes his family proud. Jesus had been teaching and healing and had come home to visit. I’m sure all the men whose sons grew up with Jesus were excited to see him. His family members probably had big silly grins on their faces having Jesus home. 

On this day, he got up to read a scroll, leaning over a table to open it up completely and read an old passage, probably familiar to all: 

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

    because he has anointed me

        to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

    and recovery of sight to the blind,

        to let the oppressed go free,

19 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

We know that this would become the basis of his ministry—his mission statement, if you will. He rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and said, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” 

This not the end of the story, but it’s where we end it today. 

I wonder if these old words rolled off his tongue in the way half-memorized passages do. Did the assembly who had heard of his wonder-working power hear this text and think, “Yes, that is exactly what you’re doing, Jesus! Do it here now, too!”

Jesus’ ministry, what would decades later become known as Christianity, was an outgrowth of his devotion to Judaism. Everything he did was in the bosom of Judaism, and we see that here in the text he read. Isaiah is a convoluted book that details all the angst of what would become of Israel in the midst of Assyrian invasion and exile. In the face of inescapable terror and existential doom, the prophet Isaiah and his students penned these words. 

And instead of writing a shiny new mission statement with trendy language or flashy buzzwords, setting himself apart from the ancient tradition of his upbringing, Jesus made the old words of tradition his own. The Word became flesh and made his home among us, or as The Message translation says: The Word moved into the neighborhood. He does not produce a new garment, but makes a stitch into a well-worn, intricate tapestry of faith. 

Scholars are mixed on whether or not this really happened—is it Jesus shaping his mission or is the church through Luke writing their history retroactively? Either way, it is important for us to see how we owe our lives, our very faith to people of Jewish faith. It’s essential for us, especially in the hate-filled violent times we live in where synagogues are targets, to see that ours is not a triumphalist faith, a better, more sophisticated, more grace-filled version meant to replace or subvert Judaism, but rather a cousin who wears the hand-me-downs and has great familial affection for Judaism, for we all love the same God, we all have a shared commitment to grace and mercy, justice and scripture. 

For those of us who are Christians, we see in this story Jesus, the logos, the logic of God, embracing these words as if to say, “The Word lives here and now. Today. And it is organic and fresh. It breathes and moves in revolutionary ways. The Word of God is neither dead nor dull—it is alive!”

When I was an English teacher, I taught Macbeth each year. It’s a dark, dark play full of anguish and violence. Like many of Shakespeare’s tragedies, the main character slowly goes mad. He ahas assassinated the good King Duncan in an effort to claim the throne, but what he does not anticipate is the prophecies the three witches have put on Macbeth’s life. This is where “double, double, toil and trouble” comes from. They have prophesied that Macbeth will himself be killed. Amidst the closing in of his fate and the guilt he carries for murdering his friends, he starts to lose his grip on reality. 

Near the end of the play, Macbeth delivers a haunting monologue about the meaning of life. He says, 

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

In the face of his guilt and suffering, Macbeth concludes that life is futile. It has no point. Tomorrow keeps coming, creeping in until the end of time. And the past, all our yesterdays, have just made a way for more fools to come down this pointless path. To Macbeth, life is just a shadow. It’s just a brief performance that ends too soon. It’s a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, but ultimately signifying nothing. 

Of course, Macbeth has committed heinous crimes in this play. Murder, treason. He has brought most of this suffering on himself and on Scotland. He is not to be emulated or admired. That is clear from the very beginning. 

But I was amazed at how refreshing this monologue was to some of my students. They would write whole essays about it, wondering if Macbeth was right. If the past is guilt-ridden and horrifying, and the future is frightening and bleak, what else is there? Where could they look? If all the world’s a stage as the Bard himself said, then does anything we do matter? Teenagers asked these questions. 

I thank you for indulging this former English teacher on a trip down Shakespeare lane. Probably won’t be our last jaunt down here together. But I bring Macbeth up because this obsession with time and what it means has been around for a very long time. Today, the climate crisis is here, and it wasn’t a thing when Shakespeare walked the earth. But he had other worries. High mortality rates. Polluted water. The plague shut down his show for two seasons. Sounds familiar. 

And I appreciate this interrogation of what we’re supposed to do with our lives when the past feels intangible and the future is out of reach. 

These questions feel timeless even though this Scottish play has been performed many, many times over the centuries. We watched the newest version made for screen last night with Denzel Washington. It had the feel of an ancient Greek tragedy. My favorite version is still Patrick Stewart’s performance, which is set in an 1980s-esque autocracy. Alan Cummings has a creepy, tech-infused version. The Royal Shakespeare Company has put this on as a psychological thriller. And even the more classic interpretations of this play have all had their differences, playing on the subtleties of the day, the actors, the stage hands. 

There are times when Macbeth’s monologue feels dramatic and hyperbolic. But there are also times that I ask these questions with him. I think of a brief candle being blown out or a shadow walking on a stage. Or a shapeless tomorrow creeping in the door. 

The concept of “today” feels difficult some days. Because we hope for the past to return or we hope to return to the past, whichever it is. When things felt simpler and more straightforward. When our loved ones were still with us. When the rifts that are so pronounced now were easier to ignore then. 

And tomorrow? Well, it’s unknown and uncertain. Tomorrow has felt like a fool’s errand for literally years now. Waiting for things to get better, to return to “normal,” for “real life” to resume. Someday is a seductive promise, but it’s ultimately a siren song. 

In a way, our lives have felt like they’re on hold. Proverbs says that hope deferred makes the heart sick. I wonder if your heart feels sick, too. 

But if we’re talking about the way language gives form to our lives, then we should also note that the word “scripture” can also be understood as “script,” a drama of the Word made flesh, words on a page brought to life by what we say and do as a people. Each time these words are read, we get to interpret them for our time today. We are the cast, the crew, the orchestra. This is our setting. How will we bring these words to life today? 

Jesus says, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” as if to say, you do not have to defer your commitment to this mission for an easier time. You do not have to wait until things feel right or safe or normal. You do not have to to look back and think, “That version was the best one or the right one. If only we could go back.” 

Today, it is fulfilled. Be here now. Here are the lines. This is your scene. Reimagine this drama anew. 

If these walls could talk with all their knowledge of the church’s stories, I wonder if they might whisper, “This is it. This is all you have. Today.”

Amen.

Stewardship Moment

There are many ways to support and resource the ministries of Azle Christian Church: Venmo, giving online, or the offering plate. I also invite you to bring nonperishable items for our Little Free Pantry. The collection shelves for the pantry are in the Fellowship Hall right outside the kitchen. 

The deacons are going to hand these plates over during our final song, starting at the front row and they just to need make their way to the back where a deacon will collect them. You can drop your offering, an “I gave online card,” or an information card.

Invitation 

If you’d like to become a member of this faith community, or if you’d like to become a disciple of Jesus, please talk with me after service or sometime this week.

Benediction:

Please rise in body or spirit for our benediction, the final song, and the Doxology.

Our benediction this morning is our lines from the prophet Isaiah, reimagined by Jesus:

May the Spirit of the Lord rest upon us,

    because God has anointed us

        to bring good news to the poor.

May we proclaim release to the captives

    and recovery of sight to the blind,

        let the oppressed go free,

 and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

Amen.