Forty-one years. One great adventure: to build the greatest caring network the world has ever seen. And what a journey it has been—side by side with lifelong friends who dared to be knights in shining armor, charging together into the Frey showing a love so that people could not resist.

And yes—it has been a party. A holy, joy-filled celebration of life, even in the valley of the shadow of death. We loved those who were dying and became their friends to the very end. We stood with families wrapped in grief, and we stood fast in the joy of living for Jesus Christ.

We were broken when Marcy Marquez, a favorite Sunday School teacher, was taken so young. When Jane Bishop, our very first secretary, passed. We wept when pastors and friends—Wayne Myers, Bill Holmes, Dr. Glen Warner, pastors Erskine Austin and David Gerszeyne—went home to the Lord. Each loss reminded us: the deeper the love, the greater the ache. And still, together, we pressed on. Even when setbacks came—like losing our property during the banking crisis—we leaned on God and one another.

And oh, the victories! One thousand and three in our first year, more than two thousand the next. Forty new believers at Christmas and Easter. Homeless men and women healed. AA groups finding sobriety and new life. The first Peacemakers Conference—where gang members, judges, pastors, educators, police officers, and prisoners sat together for three days to talk about God’s way out.

We celebrated every marriage and remarriage. Every child who grew into a scientist, a teacher, a nurse, a doctor, a pastor. We watched salt-of-the-earth kids grow up to carry God’s plan for the next generation.

Our church reached far beyond these walls: a school in Guatemala City, a campus on the edge of the Tegucigalpa city dump, schools for the poorest of the poor in Kenya. Tent City 4, Bridge Ministries, Echo Glen Christmas parties, Mercy Corps, World Vision, World Concern And of course the famous Santa Claus conspiracy, and the powerful family to family ministry touching countless lives. We launched the Health Resource Center, Excel Marketplace Ministries, the Family Center, and Washington Seminary. Each becoming pacesetters of creative innovation and state impacting ministries.

And still the victories poured in. Six thousand gathered for Christmas at Meydenbauer Center. Twenty-two Easter services in one week. Youth ministry, the Disciples program, Positive Christian Singles. The birth of the Coptic congregation, Spanish congregation, Korean, Brazilian, Native American, Pacific Islander, Indian, African American, Ukrainian, Armenian—and quarterly “mix services” where nations and cultures worshiped Christ as one. Thousands still worship today in those congregations, healthy bodies of Jesus Christ. And of course, thousands of lives coming to Jesus Christ each launching world changing dreams. 89 % of our church not being transfer growth but starting a new beginning right here as we were proudly a church for unchurched people.

We even had our trivial joys: invitations to the White House from both President Obama and President Trump—not for me, but in recognition of what you accomplished here at Washington Cathedral. Because together, we dared to try to build the greatest caring network the world has ever seen.

Yes, it’s been better than good, hasn't it?

Quite a party all the way through. Building closer friendships than any of us ever imagined.

And this Sunday, we will celebrate. Not only 41 years of Washington Cathedral, but 51 years of ordained ministry for Jackie and me. Every life touched. Every life changed. Every life given to Jesus Christ.

Won’t you join us this historic Sunday at 10:30 a.m.? It won’t be a complete party without you.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

When I accepted Jesus Christ into my life as my Lord and Savior, I was 10 years old. It was 1965 at summer camp in the Cascade mountains. In 1973 when I was 17 years old, I received the vision of building a church which was a great caring network while I was in the Wallowa Mountains.

Ever since that time God has been editing my script with his faithful presence in my life. He was walking with me even when I didn’t know he was there. I was so amazed at how he showed up through professors, pastors, noble friends, and precious family. It makes me cry to think about it now. And it makes me laugh a loud boisterous chuckle. Because it was fun and so very exciting. It was quite a party as the Texas Rangers said in Lonesome Dove.

The Road to Emmaus—and the Edit We All Need

In our text, two disciples were walking away from Jerusalem with heavy hearts. Their story felt like a tragedy. Jesus had been crucified. Their dreams were dashed. Their script seemed to have ended with death. But then Jesus walked with them—incognito at first. He explained the Scriptures, and their hearts burned within them. And when He broke the bread, suddenly they realized: This story isn’t over.

That’s what happens when Jesus edits your story. What looked like failure becomes hope. What felt like an ending becomes a beginning.

Now, let me lighten this up with a story: (because Jesus edits with joy, too)

A man went to the doctor and said, “Doc, every time I eat donuts, I feel terrible. What should I do?”

The doctor replied, “Well, the first thing you should do is… stop buying donuts!”

Sometimes the edits Jesus makes are just that simple. He doesn’t rewrite the whole book—He just crosses out the bad habits that are killing us and inserts something life-giving.

The writer G.K. Chesterton once said:

“I had always felt life first as a story: and if there is a story there is a Story-Teller.”

That’s what Emmaus reminds us. Our lives are not random. Jesus is the Storyteller, and when He edits, it’s always for glory, for joy, and for our eternal good. So here’s the question: Have you given Jesus the pen? Or are you still trying to write the story all by yourself?

This Sunday, Pastor Mark has a great sermon on this very text and subject of Jesus editing our lives. We are all going to be proud of his gospel presentation. Don’t miss it at 10:30 AM.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

About 10 months ago I was on a spiritual renewal retreat and at this retreat we had a day that we spent in silence and prayer. I was excited and a bit nervous about taking 24 hours of private, quiet time with my Savior. We were given some guidelines, and I remember sitting on the bed in my little private room and I started to write down all the things Jesus and I were going to accomplish in those 24 hours. I started telling Him my plan, and there was a voice in my head that very gently said, “Linda, do you want to hear what I think you should do?” It took me a few minutes to gather my thoughts. I remember thinking, “Yes, Lord, your servant is listening.” He gently planted two questions in my brain, totally not on my agenda. For 24 hours together we explored those questions. “The joy we shared as we tarried there was a joy I had never known.”

After the 24 hours, our group gathered to share with one another what we learned from our experience. My lesson I learned was, “Jesus is the smartest guy in the Universe, I need to start listening more and talking less.”

Sunday, we will be exploring one of Jesus’ parables. This parable in Luke 20:9-19 reminds us that Jesus is the guy we need to be listening to. After all, no matter where you are or who you are with, “He is the smartest guy in the room.”  Hope you are able to join us.

A man prayed every day: “Lord, please let me win the lottery.”

Years passed. Every day: “Lord, I’m faithful. I tithe. I volunteer. Please—just one win!”

Finally, the heavens opened, and a voice thundered:

“Meet Me halfway—buy a ticket.”

It’s funny because it’s true. We want God to do something big, but we don’t always want to risk something small. We cling to what we have, waiting for a miracle, when God is waiting for movement.

In Luke 19, Jesus tells a parable just before entering Jerusalem. A nobleman gives ten servants one mina each (a few months’ wages) and says, “Do business until I return.” When he comes back—now crowned king—he finds that one servant turned his single mina into ten. Another made five. But one didn’t even try. He wrapped his mina in a napkin and hid it. That servant didn’t fail because he lost something—he failed because he was afraid to try.

This parable isn’t about ROI. It’s about responsibility. It’s not about fear. It’s about faithfulness. WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN GIVEN? Maybe it’s a voice. A platform. A testimony. A skill. A scar. A relationship. A second chance. Jesus isn’t asking you to be a hero—just to be faithful. To do something with what you’ve got. Even if it’s one small mina.

QUOTE TO REMEMBER:

*“God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into the nest.”*

—J.G. Holland

At the end of the parable, the Master doesn’t say, “Well said” or “Well planned.” He says: “Well done.”  So don’t bury it. Don’t hoard it. Don’t wait for perfect conditions. Buy the ticket. Use the gift. Multiply the mina. Because when He comes back, He’s not grading potential. He’s looking for faith in motion.

Pastor Mark has been on a roll with great sermons this summer so don't miss this Sunday at 10:30 am.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”  Luke 18:16

STEAM Camp this year was a circus of joy. We focused on Dive Deep the science of the ocean. We had the whole building decorated like a giant Aquarium; we had an oceanographer there who did scuba diving in the waterfall. Science, Technology, Engineering, Art and Math. And the Bible. We all had a blast with so many different classes and play times, Bible Stories, music, and much much more.

Kids were bouncing off the walls, counselors were half-sprinting with name tags flying, and the parents—God bless them—looked like they were either about to cry or apply for sainthood.

But when those children came through the doors and saw last year’s counselors? They lit up like Christmas morning. They hugged each other like long-lost siblings. No shyness, no filters, no judgment. Just joy. Raw and loud and honest.

It made me think of Jesus. Not Jesus the stained-glass statue, solemn and glowing. Jesus the Real. The one who invited chaos. The one who welcomed sticky fingers and muddy sandals. The one who got rebuked by his own disciples because He didn’t have the “good sense” to keep the kids quiet.

I wonder if Jesus was hyperactive Himself. Maybe He couldn’t sit still at synagogue. Maybe He cracked jokes at the wrong time. Maybe He was always stirring things up, like a divine blender with the lid off. Because when He was around, there was movement. There was fun. There was hope. And yes—probably a little mess.

And He said: “To such belongs the Kingdom of God.”

Which means friends, that heaven might look more like Chuck E. Cheese than a cathedral. It might sound more like kids laughing than choirs chanting. It might feel more like Steam Camp than a solemn ceremony.

So yeah bring your Tylenol. The Kingdom isn’t built for quiet. It’s built for kids. And the kid-hearted.

“To be a child is to live with eyes wide open, heart unlocked, and arms ready to hug.”

– Dr. Dale Caleb White

Today’s Joke: Why don’t kids worry about heaven?

Because they already think slides and pizza are eternal.

Your Takeaway: Let the children come. Let their mess, their wonder, their noise come too. And let your own inner child rise—Because if you can’t receive the Kingdom like a kid, you’ll miss the party.

Join us this Sunday, Pastor Mark will be preaching on this passage, and the kids will be singing at 10:30 am.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

I believe Eliot Stone is a gift to Washington Cathedral. With a name fit for a rock star, he brings a thoughtful, youthful perspective to everything he touches. And here’s the great news—this fun, former rock-and-roll drummer is preaching this Sunday on one of the most majestic passages in the Bible: Psalm 15.

His message is entitled “Don’t Look Away!” It’s a call to courage, honesty, and faith.

Now, if you didn’t already know Eliot, you might imagine a long-haired, bearded artist hanging out at some avant-garde joint like Laughs Comedy Club in the U-District. And sure—he’d fit in. But to us, he’s the heavenly-voiced guitarist who leads us in authentic, soul-stirring worship week after week. His heart is anchored in Jesus, and his words ring with grace and depth.

“Don’t Look Away” is the perfect title for a message rooted in Psalm 15.

This ancient song of David is what scholars call a “spiritual entrance psalm”—likely used in the time of King David by worshipers as they approached the tabernacle (which would later become the Temple). In just five verses, it gives us a clear and powerful vision for living in God’s presence.

Psalm 15 speaks to three deep truths that couldn’t be more relevant today:

1. Wholeness (Holiness) in daily life

2. Authenticity in our walk with God

3. Living with the presence of God in every moment

It doesn’t shy away from tough issues—justice, integrity, truth-telling. In fact, many Christian teachers see Psalm 15 as an Old Testament companion to Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. It’s a spiritual mirror that challenges us: Are we living the kind of life that brings God close?

And that’s what Pastor Eliot will invite us into—a fresh, honest approach to faith. He’ll challenge us to not look away from the world God has placed us in. To not ignore pain, injustice, or truth. But to stay present, to live no lies, and to let our worship overflow into real life.

So don’t miss it this Sunday at 10:30 AM.

Come ready to be refreshed, inspired, and grounded in God’s presence.

 Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Jesus had just finished teaching the Lord’s Prayer when He told a story about a man who knocks on his neighbor’s door at midnight, urgently asking for bread. The neighbor is hesitant—but the man’s persistence, his shameless audacity, eventually gets results.

Then Jesus pivots to a striking invitation: “Ask… seek… knock…” These are not gentle suggestions; they are bold imperatives. In Luke 11:9, Jesus uses the present tense, active voice, and imperative mood. In other words, these are not one-time actions but ongoing commands. The grammar itself teaches us: Keep on asking. Keep on seeking. Keep on knocking. Prayer, Jesus insists, must be relentless, alive, and hopeful. God doesn’t need to be persuaded, but we need to be transformed in the process of praying.

Why? Because prayer is not about prying blessings from a reluctant God. Jesus makes this clear by comparing flawed human parents to our heavenly Father:

“If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts… how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (v. 13)

If even broken parents desire to bless their children, how much more will God—who is perfectly good—give us what we most deeply need, including the gift of His own Spirit?

This passage doesn’t just invite persistence in prayer—it urges it. Not because God is hard of hearing, but because God uses prayer to shape us. The asking forms us. The seeking awakens us. The knocking opens us up to the presence and purposes of God.

When I was 22, I traveled to Jerusalem to study at Jerusalem University College, a historic school perched on Mount Zion, near the Jaffa Gate of the Old City. The grounds were breathtaking—situated near the traditional sites of King David’s Tomb, the Upper Room of the Last Supper, and the place where Peter denied Christ. It remains one of my favorite places for prayer.

While there, I bunked with a group of basketball players from Liberty University. We played intense, competitive games every morning before class—games that sometimes got a little too heated. Eventually, some of the players explained to me that they could no longer associate with me because they believed in something called third-degree separation—a strict theological view that says Christians must not only avoid the world, but also avoid worldly Christians, and even those who associate with worldly Christians. Since I was friends with such people, I was now outside their circle.

But their dean, who roomed with us and played on my team, remained a friend. One day, I asked him why he didn’t follow the rule. Tears filled his eyes as he told me about his son—a standout baseball player at Liberty—who had died of leukemia. During his son’s illness, he had prayed day and night. He had asked, sought, and knocked with all his heart. Though his son was not healed in this life, he and his world were changed forever. He told me he simply couldn’t stop praying for people—not since that season of pain and prayer. Ever since, when God placed someone on his heart, he could never let them go. That’s why he rejected third-degree separation. He had been too transformed by prayer to ever give up on people again.

This Sunday, we have the opportunity not only to learn more about prayer—but also to learn more about the heart of God. And when we do, we won’t come away unchanged. I can’t wait to hear what God will say to us through Pastor Mark Nsimbi this Sunday.

Let’s not miss it.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

I think often when something becomes so familiar to you and you have it memorized, it begins to just become a bunch of words that you say without even thinking about what you are really saying.  Don’t get me wrong, I love praying those words.  I love singing the words.  I had a friend sing the Lord’s prayer at my wedding.  But it was like a poem that you recite to make you feel good, rather than a real prayer that you are speaking to your heavenly Father.

Some years ago, Pastor Tim was leading one of our “Day of Prayer” sessions and he had us pray using the Lord’s Prayer as a framework for our prayer. That was the day that the Lord’s Prayer for me took on a whole new meaning.  The disciples had been watching Jesus as he spent time in prayer with the Father.  I suspect they were seeing not only how important that time was for Jesus, but they probably also saw the amazing effect it had on Jesus.  It was most likely what led them to ask, “Lord, teach us to pray.” 

This Sunday I have the opportunity to explore with you the powerful words that Jesus gave us as students of the art of praying.  Now, every day and sometimes several times a day, I am amazed how much I need those words to open up my heart and my soul to my loving Father in heaven.  Jesus is teaching me, and I have so much to learn.

Hope you can join us as we explore together what Jesus has to teach us in His classroom this Sunday.

Blessings,

Pastor Linda Skinner

But in Luke 3, something even more astonishing happens. At the Jordan River, one man—John the Baptist—witnesses something no other human being has ever seen before or since. Heaven doesn’t just whisper. It opens. And God steps into view.

All at once, the Trinity comes into focus:

• The Son rises from the waters—Jesus, flesh and bone, soaked in our humanity

• The Spirit descends gently, visibly, like a dove gliding through sunlight.

• The Father speaks from above with thunderous tenderness: “You are my beloved Son; in you I am well pleased.”

It’s the closest we’ve ever come to seeing God with our eyes open. It was, as theologians later called it, the clearest glimpse of the mystery we call the Trinity—not three gods, but one God in three persons. Hard to grasp? Of course. But necessary. Because if we can’t imagine God loving, sending, dwelling, and delighting—then we’ve seen only a sliver of who He really is.

Jesus shows us what God looks like in skin and sandals. No wonder I’ve heard atheists say, “If God is anything like Jesus—I might believe in Him.”

C.S. Lewis once said, “If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.”

God doesn’t fit in our pockets. But sometimes, like He did at the Jordan, He shows up in a way that we cannot ignore.

I like the story:

A man said, “Pastor, I want to see God. Just one time. Face to face.”

The pastor said, “Well, are you really sure you are ready for such a divine encounter with a personal Epiphany?

The man replied, “Let me pray about it.”

Two minutes later, he peeked one eye open and whispered, “Okay, maybe just a strong feeling and a goosebump.”

This Sunday, I get to preach on this very moment. I’d love to have you join us—either in person or online—as we look at what it means to “see” God now. Not just in the skies, but in the pages of Scripture, in the face of Christ, and maybe even in each other.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Some of us have the same approach to prayer. We say we want intimacy with God, the kind of life that hears His voice and sees His hand—then we quit too soon because it rattles the ice in our comfort. It stirs us up. It takes too long. And we prefer microwave answers to crockpot wisdom.

But in Luke 18, Jesus tells a story about a woman who didn’t quit. She was a widow. No husband. No lawyer. No leverage. Just a cause, a complaint, and calluses on her knuckles from knocking.

She kept coming to a judge who “neither feared God nor cared what people thought.” In other words, the kind of man who wouldn’t open the door even if the house were on fire—unless it was his own.

And yet… she wore him down. She didn’t charm him, or bribe him, or flatter him. She just kept showing up. Not because she believed in the judge, but because she believed in justice.

Jesus tells us this parable “so that we ought always to pray and not lose heart.” He’s not saying God is like the judge—He’s saying He’s not. God doesn’t delay because He’s cruel, but because He’s crafting something holy in us while we wait.

“Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul…” — Emily Dickinson

Persistent prayer is feathered with hope. It perches in our soul and sings even when the windows are shut, and the winds howl, and no answer has arrived.

The widow’s faith wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t dignified. But it was real. She kept asking not because she was religious—but because she believed something true and refused to let it go.

So, you who are tired…

You who are still praying for the child to come home, the diagnosis to change, the silence to break—

Don’t lose heart.

The door will open.

 Prayer: Lord, help me pray like the widow—without giving up, without dressing up, without letting go. I trust You, even in the silence. Give me the kind of faith that knocks until grace answers. Amen.

Closing Thought: The persistent widow was not a hero because she was strong. She was a saint because she stayed.

Pastor Jonte’s sermon this Sunday is going to be insightful you don’t want to miss it!

Your friend for life,

Pastor Tim

“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’

Then Jesus told them this parable: ‘Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders…’”

There’s a kind of holiness that keeps its robes clean and its hands in its pockets — the kind that crosses the street when it sees trouble limping along the sidewalk. That was the religion of the Pharisees. They drew lines in the sand and dared sinners to cross them. But then came Jesus, wild-eyed with mercy, calling the unworthy to dinner, and kicking over the chalk lines of respectability.

Jesus didn’t just welcome sinners. He ate with them. In the ancient world, sharing a meal wasn’t just about food. It meant friendship. Acceptance. Solidarity. And to the pious onlookers, that was scandal enough to grind their teeth to dust.

So Jesus flipped the script.

He told a story. A shepherd — gritty, wind-chapped, tough as barbed wire — notices one sheep gone missing. He doesn’t sit there counting his losses or figuring percentages. He goes. Through thorns, over hills, across ravines. And when he finds the lost one, he doesn’t scold it. He lifts it. Joyfully. Slings it across his shoulders like a precious burden.

It was the same with the woman and the lost coin, and the father with the prodigal son. Same story, three times: God isn’t waiting for you to grovel your way back. He’s coming for you. With love that hunts. A joy that lifts. A grace that refuses to give up.

The world still hasn’t caught up. We keep drawing lines — between the holy and the broken, the worthy and the shamed. We act like we’ve earned our place at the table, when the truth is, not one of us got here by being good enough. As C.S. Lewis once said, “A cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute.”

I remember when I was a young seminary student, there was this heated debate about something called “second-degree separation.” It meant not only should Christians stay clear of the world, but they should also avoid other Christians who weren’t separate enough from the world.

I saw this play out firsthand when I was heading off to study at the University of Jerusalem. One of my closest friends — a man whose heart was cracked wide open by a brutal divorce — came with me. Some folks who believed in second-degree separation wouldn’t talk to me because I was still talking to him. As if grace had limits. As if mercy had conditions. At the time, I thought, This can’t be what Jesus meant by holiness.

This Sunday, Pastor Mark is leading us in flipping the script. Reclaiming a Jesus-shaped vision of love — the kind that doesn’t flinch at messiness, doesn’t pull away from the hurting, and doesn’t treat people like spiritual contagions.

So come. Bring your bruises, your doubts, your weariness — and maybe a friend or two who’s felt left out of church too long. Jesus has a seat at the table for them. For you. For us all.

And remember: even sheep who wander off still belong to the Shepherd.

Oh, and if you’re worried about being the one lost sheep, just know — you’re in good company. At least you’re not the guy who tried to baptize a cat. That didn’t go well. (Don’t ask. Trust me.)

See you Sunday at 10:30.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Out in the wild, when a wolf pup yelps, the pack turns. When a lion cub strays, the pride notices. In the animal kingdom, fathers defend, feed, and fight for their young. But here in the world of men? Sometimes sons cry out for blessing… and the silence echoes back.

Esau wasn’t a weak man. He was the kind of man who could break a yoke with his bare shoulders. But in this moment, he’s not in a wrestling game in the field—he’s weeping for his father’s words. A blessing. A single spoken affirmation of his worth. And what he hears is heartbreakingly close to nothing.

Men, we know the truth in our bones: God longs to bless all His children—it’s in His nature. And fathers? We’re called to echo that divine blessing. Not with perfection, but with courage and conviction. Every child deserves to hear, “You matter. I am behind you. I see something great in you.”

But some of us were never blessed. We grew up on scraps of approval and cold winds of criticism. Some of us still ache for what was never said.

Here’s the good news: it’s not too late. If you’re a dad, keep the blessing rolling. If you’re a father figure, step up. And if you’re carrying that old ache like Esau, come find healing. It can start this Sunday.

“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.” —Frederick Douglass

Join us this Father’s Day at 10:30 AM. Pastor Michael Fernandez will bring a message that could help you speak the words that change a life—and maybe even heal your own.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Ever tried to ride a dead horse? Of course not. But we’ve all been there—strapping on the saddle, digging in our heels, shouting “Giddy-up!” to something long past its expiration date.

You’re leading a class, and no one dreams anymore. They’re scrolling through life like ghosts with glowing thumbs. You’re steering a team, but instead of catching your fire, they’re quietly hoping you cool off. You’re trying to take your business to the next level, but the crew’s still polishing trophies from a decade ago.

That’s life without Spirit. And you can’t ride that horse.

You can’t make your kids love school when their hearts are unplugged. You try to build a better marriage, but it feels like learning to dance in a fog, with lead boots. You show up at church, and instead of Pentecost fire, you get lukewarm coffee and polite yawns.

The truth is, we don’t need more clever plans or motivational speeches. We need wind. Fire. Breath. We need Spirit.

Pentecost was no quiet moment. It was a wildfire of heaven breaking loose. And it’s not just a story from the past—it’s an invitation for now. Because when the Spirit comes, dry bones dance. Old dreams rise. Dead horses? Suddenly gallop.

Join us this Sunday at 10:30 a.m. Pastor Mark is bringing the match! Let’s stop dragging what’s dead and start living what’s alive.

Quote of the Day:

“Without the Spirit of God, we can do nothing. We are as ships without wind. We are useless.” — Charles Spurgeon

Joke of the Day:

What do you call a church with no Holy Spirit?

A Christian Book Club with snacks.

See you Sunday.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Jesus tells of a man who had everything — a booming harvest, barns full to bursting, and big plans to build even bigger ones. He had it all… except the one thing that mattered. A rich soul.

Jesus doesn’t condemn planning or productivity. He doesn’t criticize farmers or entrepreneurs. He warns against greed that forgets God, wealth that insulates us from wonder, and comfort that cancels our calling.

“Life is not measured by how much you own.” (Luke 12:15)

This parable hits home — especially for those of us living in relative wealth. Most of us have a roof, clean water, a fridge, a phone, a car — luxuries by global standards. But Jesus isn’t just talking to billionaires. He’s talking to all of us who are tempted to measure our lives by square footage, bank balances, or five-year plans instead of the depth of our trust and the generosity of our hearts.

As someone once said:  “You never see a U-Haul being buried next to a grave.

You can’t take it with you. And yet, how many of us live like we’re packing for the afterlife?

C.S. Lewis once wrote:  “He who has God and everything else has no more than he who has God only.” In other words, if you have God, you’re already rich.

Lord, teach us not to measure our lives by what we own, but by how well we know You. Keep our hearts soft, our hands open, and our faith rich. Amen.

We look forward to seeing you Sunday as Pastor Paul brings a word that promises to challenge, encourage, and re-center us around what really matters. Bring your Bible, bring a friend, and an expectation of blessing.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Years ago, two young men from our church were graduating high school and received a small inheritance—just enough for a quick three-day trip to Hawaii. They had never traveled before, and you can imagine their excitement!

Both were athletes. One was a runner, and the other, a basketball player. They each set off on their own to explore the island through exercise. The basketball player, ever committed, decided to run the stairs of their hotel for his workout. But when he finished, he realized something horrible—he had locked himself in the stairwell.

He pounded on the door. He yelled. People passed by, but no one stopped. Maybe they thought he was a troublemaker or just didn’t want to get involved. But he figured, “At least my best friend will notice I’m missing and come look for me.”

Hours passed. Finally, his friend emerged from their room—but walked right by the door without so much as a glance. The trapped young man screamed and pounded on the window. Still—nothing.

Eventually, at midnight, a hotel employee rescued him. But by then, the damage to their friendship was done. They didn’t speak for a year.

That’s the story of the Good Samaritan in reverse.

Jesus told us to love God with everything we’ve got—and to love our neighbor as ourselves. But how often do we walk by those in need, not out of cruelty, but out of distraction, discomfort, or convenience? Radical love flips the script. It listens when others walk by. It looks when others turn away. It stops. It helps. It pays the price.

As C.S. Lewis once said, “Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.”

And maybe this goes without saying—but if your best friend gets trapped in a stairwell, at least look!

Join us this Memorial Sunday as we remember not only those who’ve sacrificed for us, but also our calling to live out Jesus’ command—to love big, to love radically, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.

And yes, we’ll also be flipping the script on your appetite—with a chicken dinner potluck after service. Because love shows up with casseroles, too.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Jesus never played by the world’s rules. He flipped the script, over and over again—placing the crown not on the powerful but on the humble, not on the loud but on the faithful, not on the platform but in the dirt where seeds take root and grow.

In the Parable of the Sower, Jesus isn’t just talking about agriculture. He’s talking about us—about the condition of our hearts and the daily choices we make to let God’s Word grow deep and real within us. Life throws thorns—worry, wealth, comfort, fear—but Jesus calls us to cultivate something different: radical love, faithful service, and quiet perseverance.

And let me tell you, when I think of all the incredible knights in shining armor God has placed in our midst, I’m moved to tears. People like Toni Othieno, Tony Woods, Duff Simpson, Frank Eaton, Violet, Emily Boyce, Don James, Joanne Vath, Jane Bishop, Scott Nicholls and Marcy Marquez. None of them went looking for applause—they just lived the gospel. And in doing so, they surprised the heck out of everyone. That’s what good soil does, it bears unexpected, world-changing fruit.

Luke also reminds us of something quietly revolutionary: women—often overlooked and undervalued in Jesus’ time—were front and center in His ministry. Mary Magdalene, who had every reason to shrink into the shadows, instead becomes the first to witness and proclaim the risen Christ. That tells us something huge: Proclaiming the gospel isn’t just for preachers—it’s for everyone who dares to follow him.

So maybe the question today isn’t just, “What kind of soil am I?” Maybe it’s, “Who around me needs their story heard? Whose voice needs lifting? What love can I plant today?”

Quote of the Day:

“Do small things with great love.” —Mother Teresa

Joke of the Day:

Why did the seed go to church?

Because it needed a little spiritual growth! Okay, not funny but funny because it’s not funny 😄

Let’s be people who practice heaven now. Let’s listen closely, love deeply, and live like Jesus really meant it.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Isn’t it amazing that in this verse, God actually compares Himself to a mother? That’s one of the highest honors motherhood could receive. When you think of the very best qualities of a mother—her comfort, strength, patience, sacrifice—you’re getting a glimpse into the heart of God.

When I think of mothers, I think of my own mom and Jackie’s mom. I think of my grandmothers—Betty and Ione. Grandma Betty was so kind and gracious that, believe it or not, when Jackie Kennedy was in town and had a wardrobe malfunction, she came to my grandmother’s house to fix it! That’s just how welcoming and wonderful my grandma was. And Grandma Ione? She was one of the first female ordained pastors in the Methodist Church. Talk about trailblazers.

I think of Anne Nsimbi—what a role model. Jennifer Eaton—an amazing mom. Diana Smith and Jeanne Sutten—accomplished mothers who’ve raised incredible families. And Pastor Linda, who has mothered so many in our church through the years. She’s one of the secret superpowers of Washington Cathedral.

God says, “You want to understand Me? Think about mothers.” Long before society ever debated the role of women, God was already showing us that the nurturing strength of a mother reflects His own character.

So, this Sunday, let’s decide to make Mother’s Day truly inspirational. Join us at 10:30 AM as Anne Nsimbi, Jordan Hoover, and Kristy Dykes share their hearts in a powerful celebration of motherhood.

Here’s a quote to carry with you this week:

“God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.” —Rudyard Kipling

And just to leave you smiling:

Why did the baby strawberry cry?

Because his mom was in a jam.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

The seventh chapter of 1 Samuel gives us a look at an old war-scarred prophet named Samuel. A man who’d walked with God since boyhood and bore the weathered voice of someone who’d seen his share of broken covenants and bitter mornings.

“Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen. He named it Ebenezer, saying, ‘Thus far the Lord has helped us.’” —1 Samuel 7:12

Ebenezer means “stone of help.” Samuel raised it like a battle flag—half gratitude, half testimony. Life with God doesn’t mean fewer battles. It means you’re not swinging alone. And when you’ve got a mile of scars and a few victories behind you, sometimes you stop, stack a stone, and say, “Look here. We made it this far. By His help.”

God’s way doesn’t promise ease. It promises better. Families built on love, honesty, and sacrifice—better. Businesses run with integrity—better. Churches that love the least and walk humbly—better. And even when the storm hits—and it will—you’ll find you’re lashed to something unshakable.

There are always shortcuts. Dishonesty, betrayal, manipulation. The world hands out shovels and says, “Dig here, it’s faster.” But fast isn’t always wise. Or lasting. Or right.

God provides—when we work with Him.

This Sunday, we’re going to hear from someone who has stacked more than a few Ebenezers of her own. A woman whose boots have walked the back roads of children’s ministry in 40 countries. A pastor. A missionary. A leader with fire in her bones.

Rev. Alma Thompson, the ICCM Global Director of the Free Methodist Church, will be preaching with us. Since 2019, she’s led International Child Care Ministries—an organization that now supports over 50,000 children around the world through sponsorships, scholarships, and gospel-rooted community work. She doesn’t just believe in the next generation—she builds bridges for them with grit, grace, and a deep trust in God’s provision.

She and her husband, Rev. Brent Thompson (Ohio Conference Superintendent), serve together, lifting up the church both in the U.S. and abroad. From the dirt roads of mission fields to the boardrooms of strategy, she’s been a voice for the voiceless and a guide for those of us who still believe in God’s better way.

Come ready. Come open. And maybe bring a stone in your pocket—just in case you need to raise your own Ebenezer.

See you Sunday!

Your friend always,

Pastor Tim White

He could have crushed the world between His fingers. He spoke to storms like a man talks to his dog—Quiet now—and the seas went still. Demons? They scrambled for cover when He showed up. The sick were healed, the blind saw again, and even death had to back down when Jesus called a name.

He had more power in His whisper than all the empires combined, and yet—He washed feet. That’s not weakness; that’s wild, untamed strength restrained by love.

In a world that snarls and snaps for dominance, where men hoard power like wolves over a carcass, Jesus flipped the whole game upside down. He walked in, calm as dawn, and made it clear: Greatness isn’t grabbing the highest seat—it’s kneeling at the lowest one.

The Servant-King came not to take, but to give. Not to be served, but to serve. And that wasn’t a pose. It wasn’t PR. It was the very marrow of who He was.

And then He walked to the cross.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that servanthood is soft. It takes more guts to lay down your life than to take someone else’s. It takes more fire to lift the burdens of others than to carry your own pride like a badge.

So, when you walk into your day—into the chaos of home, the grind of work, the noise of the world—walk like Jesus. Carry towels, not titles. Look for the broken and the overlooked. Ask not what this place owes you, but what you can pour out of yourself for the glory of God. Because the Lion of Judah came wrapped in the humility of a lamb—and He calls you to do the same.

That’s not just a calling; that’s an adventure!

Pastor Mark’s sermon is going to be powerful this Sunday at 10:30 AM. Please join us.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Hope is a beautiful word—but at Easter, it becomes something more. It becomes sacred.  

This is the season of blessed hope—not wishful thinking or vague optimism, but a living, breathing force rooted in the greatest miracle of all time: the resurrection of Jesus Christ.  

Hope is not passive. It doesn’t sit quietly in the corner and whisper “maybe.” Hope rises up. It rolls away stones. It shouts into tombs. Hope is what tells us, “This is not how the story ends.” 

It is hope that keeps a grieving parent putting one foot in front of the other.

It is hope that stirs the addict to believe that tomorrow can be different.

It is hope that whispers to the lonely, “You are not forgotten.”

It is hope that declares to the world: Love has won. Death has lost. Jesus is alive. 

And here’s the extraordinary truth of Easter:

The same power that raised Christ from the dead now lives in you. Not a lesser power. Not a symbolic gesture. The same mighty strength. 

Which means…

You can rise from what tried to bury you.

You can love again after heartbreak.

You can believe again after disappointment.

You can breathe again—even when life has knocked the wind out of you. 

This Easter don’t just remember the resurrection—live in it. Walk in that power. Stand in that light. Hope with all your heart. 

Please join us this Easter Sunday as Pastor Mark speaks to the hope we were made for—the hope we desperately need. Let your soul be filled again. Let your spirit rise. 

Your friend for the rest of my life, 

Pastor Tim White