The Way

All Things Considered Sermon Series

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 12:00:14 -0500

All Things Considered Series: Every summer at The Way, we take time to consider your requests—those unanswered faith questions, those difficult scriptures, those spiritual musings and wonderings of yours. This is always one of the most varied and fun worship series of our year. Consider being a part of “All Things Considered” this summer!

July 20 The Psalms, Rev. Carolyn Bullard preaching
July 27 The Psalms, Rev. Carolyn Bullard preaching
August 3 What’s the Story? Contradictions and Challenges in Scripture
August 10 What about Sin? If God made us, then why do we sin?
August 17 How Beautiful (Is the Body of Christ): Diversity and Community
August 24 Wake Up! An Open Letter to the Church at Sardis (and in America)
August 31 Sacrificial Atonement and Salvation

Take a Risk

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 16:55:43 -0500

Well, Mama Duck died. Of all the potential disaster scenarios with these ducks that I obsessed about over the past two months, I never once considered the possibility that she might die. This is not how I wanted my Great Duck Adventure of 2008 to turn out. One day I noticed she was behaving strangely, and by that night she was dead.

I had to bury her by myself the next afternoon because Lindsay was out of town again. I’ve never buried an animal before. I had no idea how hard it is to dig a grave. It took me two hours. (Clearly I need to work on my upper body strength. Or maybe I just need better tools. I’m going with the tools—it’s easier on the ego.)

By the time I finished digging, I was hot, sweaty, tired, and emotionally drained. And I felt like a fool. Why was I so upset over a duck? She wasn’t even a pet, but here I was, a blubbering fool. The answer came to me fairly quickly: I was so upset because I allowed myself to get involved. I took a risk—gave of my time, my energy, my resources, my heart. I took a risk to care, and that means I took a risk to feel.

It is much easier to go through life without caring, without feeling. It is much easier to stay aloof, distant, detached. It is much easier, but it is not what we are called to be. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are called to be like Christ. “Christian,” after all, means “little Christ.” Jesus wasn’t aloof. He wasn’t distant. He wasn’t detached. He was one of us; he was one with us. That is incarnation.

When Jesus interacted with others, he took time to see them, to hear them, to be with them. We, on the other hand, tend to rush through our days with barely a glance at those around us—even those closest to us. Well, it’s past time to change that. We’ve got to slow down and take the time to see, hear, and be with those God has put in our lives. That’s what it means to be the Body of Christ.

My neighbors and I have bonded over these ducks. Before, I knew their names but that was only because I was careful to write them down when we first moved into the neighborhood. I knew their names, but I would not have recognized their faces. That all changed with the ducks. Now we have been in each other’s homes, we have shared food, we have shared time—and we’ve even shared a few tears over Mama Duck. (At least I’m not the only emotional one on the street!) We have created community, and dare I say it, we have started to care about each other.

Lindsay and I moved into this neighborhood almost exactly one year ago. Two pastors who should have known better remained aloof, distant, and detached from our next-door neighbors. Only now have we become connected. Only now have we gotten involved. Only now have we taken the risk to let someone new into our lives. And maybe now, with God’s help, we can finally be a true reflection of Jesus Christ to our neighbors. All because of one family of ducks. Thanks be to God!

Copywright 2008 J. Churchman

Revelation Worship Series

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 11:59:40 -0500

Revelation has intrigued Christians for centuries. Its mystery captivates us; its imagery frightens us. Indeed, Revelation is a compelling biblical book. This summer at The Way, we will focus on the Book of Revelation. Our aim is to become more familiar with its content and to experience some of its sensory nature. We also hope to discover what Revelation has to say to us today. While each Sunday of this worship series will have a specific focus text, you may wish to read the entire book according to the following schedule:

June 15 Revelation (Chapters 1-3)

June 22 Intervention (Chapters 4-7) Do to a technical problem this sermon was not recorded

June 29 Judgment (Chapters 8-14)

July 6 Question (Chapters 15-18)

July 13 Redemption (Chapters 19-22)

Leaning on the Everlasting Arms

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 11:54:12 -0500

I sure am glad that God is God and I am not. I just couldn’t take the pressure. How does God stand it? Anxiously watching as we muddle our way through life? We make mistakes. We expose ourselves—sometimes completely obliviously—to untold dangers. We are just so vulnerable. Oh the stress! Oh the anxiety! Oh the absolute emotional torture! Whew. It’s a good thing that God is God and I am not.

Let me explain why this is coming to the fore at this moment in my life. You see, I am now responsible for a precious family of ducks. Twelve darling tiny yellow ducklings hatched in my front yard just over three weeks ago. Not wanting to interfere too much with their natural instincts, I left them in the front. But that was torture for me. In between dogs, hawks, cats, over-zealous children, and one creepy guy in a black Ford, I hardly got any rest that first week. My husband finally took pity on me and moved them into the backyard. Finally I could relax! They were safe. They were fed. They were happy. And Mama Duck could fly over the fence any time she wanted a break. It was a perfect solution.

Until one Saturday morning we awoke to find one of the ducklings missing. It was just gone. No trace. Was it a cat? Very likely, but it also could have been any number of other predators. I fretted all day about whether or not it was wise to keep them locked in the back. Perhaps Mama would feel safer—and actually be safer—in her original nest out front. After vacillating repeatedly all day—second-guessing myself and then second-guessing my second guesses—I let them out about 7:15 that evening. I thought for sure that Mama would head straight for her old nest. It was bedtime, after all, for the ducklings and dinnertime for Rachel and me. (Unfortunately, Lindsay was out of town, which becomes a very crucial detail later in this story.)

Mama went to the nest. Babies followed. Rachel and I turned to go inside. But then Mama got back out of the nest and proceeded to cross the street, waddling toward the park. Mama! What are you doing? It’s bedtime! Evidently, it was swim time because into the pond they all went. They swam around awhile, tried to get out once, got chased around by a mean goose, and eventually settled on the opposite side of the pond from our house. And it gets worse. With the goose in hot pursuit, Mama had no other option than to sit on the six-inch wide ledge of the water overflow pit. (I’m sure it has a technical name, but as I’m not an engineer, “water overflow pit” is as good as you’re going to get.) It’s a giant open concrete pit in the middle of the pond where excess water can go. And all the babies were perched on the six-inch wide ledge along with Mama.

By this time it was getting dark. Rachel and I decided to walk around the pond and try to coax Mama back to shore and to the safety of our house. As we got close, we understood why Mama decided to spend the night in such a precarious place. One of the babies had fallen down into the pit—an approximately eighteen-foot drop. I could hear its pitiful chirp echoing up into the night air. My heart sank. They were all doomed. In my mind’s eye I could see each duckling slipping down into that pit as the night wore on. After everything we had gone through to keep them alive, we were going to lose them all in one fell swoop just because I gave in to my second guesses. I could hardly stand to be inside my own skin. I felt like crying and wailing and hyperventilating all at the same time. Rachel saw the insanity in my face and said, “I wish Mama had never had her babies in our yard.”

I staggered home and placed a panicked call to Lindsay. I got his voicemail. I placed a panicked call to my brother. “I thought we decided that you would keep them in the yard tonight.” Not helpful. I called the Fire Department. “We don’t do that.” I called Animal Control. “It is after hours. If you are having an animal emergency, call 911.” I called 911. “I’m having an animal emergency.” “What kind of animal emergency?” “Well, you see, I’ve been taking care of this family of ducks and now they’re stuck on the other side of the pond.” I sounded stupid even to my own ears. “They won’t come out for that,” she said.

“Well,” I thought to myself, “If they won’t come out for a stranded family of ducks, then maybe they’ll come out for a stranded crazy lady.” By now it was after 11:00 PM. I grabbed my laundry basket, a yardstick, my cell phone and Rachel’s hand and said, “Come on Rachel. This may be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m going to do it anyway.” When we got to the other side of the pond, I left Rachel on the sidewalk, taught her how to call 911 on the cell phone, and made my way down to the shore. I tested the depth with the yardstick, prepared to go in with anything below the neck. I was willing to do a lot for those ducks, but I wasn’t going to tread water in a lake filled with who-knows-what in the middle of the night.

To my great relief, the water was less than three feet deep. Piece of cake! In I went. And into the laundry basket went ten befuddled ducklings. Giddy with the success of our rescue mission, Rachel and I carried the ducklings home and put them in her bathroom. Then we rearmed with a flashlight, my neighbors’ pool net, the trusty laundry basket, and the cell phone, of course. My plan was to shine the light down into the pit and scoop up the last duckling with the pool net. Mama would surely follow. But when I got over to the pit, there was no duckling—only one dead turtle. And yet, I could still hear the chirp. Could there be another way down there? I decided to check it out.

Dodging what I am fairly sure was a water moccasin, I made my way through the creek and into the drainage tunnel. And there was Mama with the last duckling! We rescued the duckling first and then went back with the kitty carrier for Mama. Finally at 12:15 AM, Mama and the Eleven were reunited in Rachel’s bathroom, and Rachel and I sat down to supper. Twenty minutes and a shower later, I sank into bed—exhausted but exhilarated—and very grateful to spend the night safe in the everlasting arms of God.

Copywrite 2008 J Churchman

Gina Biddle, Guest Preacher

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Mon, 09 Jun 2008 11:52:14 -0500

On Sunday, June 8, The Way welcomes Gina Biddle as she leads our worship service and brings us the word while Jennie concludes her Walk to Emmaus. Gina is a member of Northway Christian Church and a hospital chaplain. She will preach on the Emmaus story from Luke 24.

Sunday, June 8

Mission Possible Sermon Series

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 12:13:59 -0500

Our vision for The Way is to be an authentic community of faith committed to Christian discipleship and spiritual formation through experiential worship, challenging Bible study, and hands-on mission. As we begin our fourth year of ministry together, we have been taking a closer look at the three basic elements of our vision statement for "The Way". In April and May we considered the worship life of our community and study. For the next three weeks we will focus on mission.
May 18 Mission Possible: Tell the Story (Evangelism)
Do to a technical problem this sermon was not recorded.
May 25 Mission Possible: Be the Story (Service)
June 1 Mission Possible: Live the Story (Discipleship)

Worth It: By Jennie Churchman

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Mon, 05 May 2008 22:33:37 -0500

“This is crazy,” I thought when my alarm went off. “This is crazy,” I said to myself as I pulled on my work out clothes. “This is crazy,” backing out of the garage into the darkness. “This is crazy,” driving down a completely abandoned neighborhood street. “This is crazy,” walking into the room where about 35 others were gathered. “We are all crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.” Boot Camp began at my neighborhood YMCA on Monday, April 7. Boot Camp, as in led by an honest to goodness member of our Armed Forces, three days a week for a month, from 5:30 until 6:30 AM. Crazy. But I did it.

I kind of had to do it. After I convinced my husband Lindsay that February’s Boot Camp would be good for him, I was sort of locked in. “You are going to sign up for that, aren’t you?” he asked in late March. I tried to play dumb, but it didn’t work. Instead I worked. Hard. I was sore all over. I was zombie tired most of the month from getting up so early (and staying up so late). I don’t think I’ll ever do it again, unless they move the class to, say 7:30-8:30 AM—a much more reasonable hour of the day.

I am glad I did it, and I’m proud of myself for finishing it. Full disclosure: I did sleep in one Monday; I just couldn’t drag myself out of bed. (Sundays are hard, you know.) But still, I did it. And I relearned an important life lesson: The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get. Physical fitness? Improved cardio-vascular health? Less-flabby triceps? Worth it.

My fledgling garden isn’t doing so well. I had such high hopes. In February I ordered a truckload of compost and tilled it in with my existing soil and a few other recommended amendments. I was so hopeful. I planted asparagus, lettuce, spinach, carrots, onions, and potatoes. Everything sprouted, and I was proud of myself. But the lettuce and the spinach sprouts stopped developing. The carrots and onions are just barely hanging on. The potatoes looked pretty good until this morning when I noticed a few yellow leaves with black spots.

I am so discouraged. In fact, it’s hard for me even to think about my garden without tearing up. On the other hand, deep down I knew I would have a steep learning curve. I’ve never gardened at all; I just had high hopes. And I have high hopes that I’ll do better next year. My soil will be a little healthier, and my knowledge will be a little deeper. It’s going to be hard work, and I may get more discouraged still. But it will be worth it. The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.

I had the great joy of meeting United Methodist Bishop Hee-Soo Jung and his wife Rev. Im Jung at a retreat in early April. They are both so peaceful, so anchored, so full of radiant Christian love. When I listened to either of them speak about the spiritual life, I felt like I was living out Psalm 23. They took me to the good green grass where I rested and feasted. They led me beside living streams where I was renewed and restored. Their words and insights—spoken with their gentle Korean-accented tones—flooded over me rich as anointing oil, covering me with God’s grace. They became guides and mentors for me on how to live spirit-filled lives.

But the truth is their lives have been hard. They have endured much pain and much sacrifice. They radiate joy now not because they have known no heartache but because they have chosen to lift their hearts up to the Lord. They have chosen joy. They have chosen peace. They have chosen life. These may have been hard choices, but they were all worth it. The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.

We too can radiate Christian love. We can radiate joy. We can radiate life. We can radiate peace. But that means hard work. It means not allowing ourselves to get pulled into petty arguments or pointless pursuits. It means giving our time, our hearts, our wills to God. It means fully engaging in the spiritual disciplines of prayer, study, silence, service, and worship.

Do you want a deeper connection to God? Do you want a more fulfilling Christian life? Do you want your faith to make a difference? The things in life that are worth having are worth working hard to get.

copyright 2008 J Churchman

Thy Word Worship Series

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Mon, 12 May 2008 15:02:30 -0500

“Our Vision” Worship Series Our vision for The Way is to be an authentic community of faith committed to Christian discipleship and spiritual formation through experiential worship, challenging Bible study, and hands-on mission. As we begin our fourth year of ministry together, we have been taking a closer look at the three basic elements of our vision statement for "The Way". In April we considered the worship life of our community. For the next five weeks we will focus on study and mission.
May 4 Thy Word: Knowing the Bible Intellectually
May 11 Thy Word: Knowing the Bible Intuitively

Lost in Worship

noreply@blogger.com (The Way) — Thu, 01 May 2008 12:03:54 -0500

“Lost in Worship” Series begins April 13Our vision for The Way is to be an authentic community of faith committed to Christian discipleship and spiritual formation through experiential worship, challenging Bible study, and hands-on mission. As we begin our fourth year of ministry together, we will take a close look at each of these elements of our vision. “Lost in Worship” is the first of these mini-series. We will focus on how and why we worship, using the Psalms as our guide. The title for this series, “Lost in Worship,” refers to that marvelous closing line in the hymn “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”: “Changed from glory into glory, till in heaven we take our place, till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love, and praise.” That’s worship! Come, get lost with us—April at The Way!
Just click on the sermon you are interested in to listen.
April 13 Lost in Wonder (Psalm 8)
April 20 Lost in Love (Psalm 84)
April 27 Lost in Praise (Psalms 145 and 150)