Your Kingdom Come...

Everybody loves a good spy thriller. 

That's why James Bond is the longest running film series in history. We love secret agents. We love to live vicariously through their exploits, because they are like real-life superheroes. Whether they are defined by coolness, like Bond, or resourcefulness, like MacGiver, or leadership, like Ethan Hunt, or sheer animal determination, like Jason Bourne, secret agents capture our imaginations.

I think it is partly because we wish we were as cool or resourceful or charismatic or determined as them; but I think it is also because they are willing to put everything on the line for a mission. We especially see this with Hunt and his Impossible Mission Force, who receives this secret message about a mission, has to memorize the whole thing, then has to come up with a plan and throw together a team to make it all happen - usually within the next 48 hours or so. Crazy. Of course this is exciting.

An impossible mission comes down from on high, and our faithful agents have to accomplish the mission or die trying. And whoever ends up working with Bond or Hunt or Bourne knows that their leader will stop at nothing to accomplish the mission.

But do you know what’s even crazier? This is exactly what God asks US to do. We have a leader who gave his life for the mission of reconciling God with his creation, and we are God’s agents in that mission. We are his Impossible Mission Force. 

So maybe we’re not as qualified as a secret agent, but we’re teaming up with the guy who is, and he will absolutely stop at nothing to accomplish this mission. Will you join him? 

This Sunday, we'll be discussing how we talk to God about this very topic. So, join us December 6, 3:30 pm, to see what Jesus has to say about our mission.

This week’s message: PRAYER - Kingdom: Speaking for God (Matthew 6:10).

See you Sunday.

Our Father in Heaven...

“Who wants to say grace?”

When my kids were growing up, that question was asked before every meal. Someone was going to pray, it was just a matter of who. Then whomever drew the short straw, so to speak, said grace. Kim or I always enforced this, not because “grace” magically made our food taste better or easier to digest or full of more nutrients, but because it meant that at least twice a day (dinner and bed time) our kids would either hear Mom and Dad praying, or they would be praying themselves.

Christians are supposed to pray, right? We pray for everything. We pray to “bless” our food. We pray for “traveling mercies.” We pray “hedges of protection” (whatever those are). We pray for healing and provision, but we also pray for our favorite football team to win. We pray for missionaries and victims of disasters, but we also pray for all the lights to be green on the way to work. But why? Why do we do that?

Does the stuff we say between the words “Dear Heavenly Father” and the words “In Jesus name, amen” have more power than the stuff we say when we’re swearing out the guy who just cut us off on the interstate?

Do our words move God? Can we get him to change his mind if we pray hard enough? And if not, is prayer just a waste of time? 

Why do we pray? What’s it for? What does it accomplish? What’s the point?

These are really good questions. And for the next five weeks, we’re going to take a serious stab at answering them.

Join us this coming Sunday, November 29, 3:30 p.m., to learn more about prayer as we go verse by verse through “The Lord’s Prayer.” (See Matthew 5:8-13)

This week’s message: HEAVEN.

See you Sunday!

Pastor Ed

Not working...

The dream is always the same.

I'm faced with some opponent who is intent on beating me to a pulp, but when I engage them in hand-to-hand combat, it's like I'm trying to swing my arms through molasses. I'm putting everything I can into the punch, but by the time I make contact with their face, my hand is barely moving at all. There's no molasses, just a complete inability to actually throw a punch.

This goes on for awhile until I give up and run. But then it's like I'm running in a vat of pudding. I can barely move my legs. There's no pudding, it just feels like there is. 

At this point, the guy starts brandishing a chainsaw or an axe, and I can barely move. Fortunately, just as he's about to take me out, I wake up. I'm always shaken and agitated, but worse than that, I'm furious. How could my body fail me so profoundly? Why can't I even defend myself?

I've heard that this dream is pretty common and that it means something. I don't actually remember what the psychologists think it means, but here's my guess. I think there must be some task on my plate for which I feel wholly inadequate. I must have taken something on, but I know in my heart of hearts that I don't really know what I'm doing. Then my min
d tortures me with images of me failing to even protect myself from an attacker. It's terrible.

But regardless of the root of my dream, I wake feeling utterly useless and totally betrayed by my own body. If I am fit and whole, my body should work. If I mean to run, my legs should allow me to run. But if my body doesn't even do what it's designed for, where does that leave me? If something is supposed to do something, it should do something, right? 

Our faith is actually like this. If my faith is useful and real, it should lead to something. It should work. It should change the way I do things. This idea is a major theme in James' letter, and it's what I'm preaching on at The Anchor this week. Come learn how this works this Sunday, 10am, at The Anchor!

On a Mission

I’m a veteran. Nine years with the U.S.Army. But I’m not telling you that so I can get a pat on the back. I’m telling you that, so I can tell you this: I know a little something about mission.

It’s really hard to do something like serve in the military without a mission. And let me be totally honest with you; I didn’t join the military with the goal of saving the world or making the world safe for democracy or crushing the spread of communism or anything noble like that. I did have a mission though. And without it, I wouldn’t have even made it through BASIC training. 

My mission? Money for college. Yep. That was it. Not proud of it, but there it is.

However, no one stays in the military for nine years for the college money. At some point, my mission changed. Somewhere along the line, my mission shifted; my mission started to conform to their mission. The mission of the Army started to become important to me. I can’t really say that I ever loved being in the military, but at some point, serving my country and preparing others to do the same became my mission.

My spiritual walk has followed a similar path. I’m not sure what my mission was when I first started going to church regularly, but at some point, God’s mission started to become important to me. And now, serving the church and preparing others to do the same has become my mission.

You may not be sure why you’re coming to church, but without a mission, it probably won’t stick. It doesn’t have to look exactly like my mission in the church, but it needs to look like something. 

You may not know it, but you’re on a mission from God.