When Adam Jumped into an Abyss (Genesis 3)

Posted on January 21, 2026 by salooper57

Adam fell, and we are still tumbling. What will stop our headlong plunge? This sermon looks at our problem of good and evil and what God is doing to help us.

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The Dull Point of the Apostolic Band

Posted on January 17, 2026 by salooper57

(With apologies to my favorite apostle)

Of the twelve apostles, I think my favorite is Philip. Perhaps it is because I most identify with Philip. Peter is bold, brash even, and strong. John is deep. He sees through mysteries and love wells up deep within him. Andrew is a people person: he makes friends easily and it is natural for him to talk to them about Jesus. These were extraordinary men and they formed the apostle’s inner ring.

Philip never made it into the inner ring. He was not bold like Peter, deep like John, or gregarious like Andrew. Philip was – or seemed to be – the dull point of the apostolic band. In John chapter 6, Jesus and his disciples have gone on a mini-vacation. They needed a getaway after the shocking death of John the Baptist. They crossed the lake and made camp in a back country spot where they could catch their breath, grieve, and recuperate. But the vacation ended suddenly when a crowd of thousands (probably headed to Jerusalem for Passover) descended on them, looking for Jesus.

When evening came, Jesus surprised the apostles by asking Philip where they could get enough bread to feed the crowd. In amazement, Philip blurted out, “Two hundred denarii worth of bread would not be enough for each of them to get a little.” Poor, confused Philip was completely in the dark about what Jesus intended.

In John chapter 12, Philip appears again. He is (apparently) standing around when some Greeks who had come to Jerusalem for the Passover approached him (possibly because of his Greek name) with a request: “We want an interview with Jesus.” Poor, confused Philip did not know what to do. Should he take them to Jesus? Or should he ask Jesus if he would agree to see them? (But Jesus had once told Philip and the other apostles to “go only to the lost sheep of Israel.”) Uncertain about how to proceed, Philip went and asked Andrew.

In John 14, we find a muddled Philip in the upper room on the eve of the crucifixion. Jesus has just told him and his friends that he is “the way, and the truth, and the life.” He then assures the apostles that they know and have seen the Father. This is when poor, confused Philip says what might be the silliest thing anyone says throughout the Gospels: “Lord, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us.”

What was Philip thinking? “Just bring Almighty God, the Creator of heaven and earth, the maker of all things, visible and invisible, the Ruler of all, the rider of cherubim, the one whose glory the heaven of heavens cannot contain—just bring him into this room so we can see him. It need only be for a moment. That will be enough for us.”

Jesus – did he roll his eyes? – responded: “Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?”

Philip was always slow to catch on. He was probably the apostle who said, “I don’t get it,” after a joke’s punchline had been delivered and St. Peter was laughing his head off. What could a guy like that bring to the apostolic band? What was he even doing there?

He was there, among the apostles, because Jesus wanted him there. In John’s Gospel, the story that introduces Philip immediately follows the story of Jesus’s meeting with the brothers Andrew and Peter. An observant reader might notice that the word “to find” is used five times in these two stories within the space of five verses. Andrew finds Peter and tells him that “we have found the Messiah.” Philip finds Nathaniel and gives him the same message.

But what interests me most – what I love about this passage – is that when it comes to Philip, Jesus does the finding. He goes looking for Philip and then calls him to follow him (John 1:43). Philip is the only disciple that Jesus is explicitly said to seek out. Jesus didn’t go looking for Philip because he was a genius, or a natural born leader, or because the apostolic band couldn’t get along without him. He went looking for Philip because he wanted him.

And he wants us too, though we are as poor and confused as Philip—and more so in my case. His incarnation – life, death, and resurrection – is Jesus looking for us. He did not come to find talent that was too good to pass up, but “to seek and to save what was lost” (Luke 19:10). And why go through all that trouble? Because he wanted us.

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In the Beginning

Posted on January 14, 2026 by salooper57

The beginning sets the stage for all that God has done and will do. (Perhaps Eliot was right: “In my beginning is my end.”) This sermon explores the Beginning, and we discover what creation tells us about the Creator.

If you prefer to read a sermon manuscript (not a transcript, so there will be differences from what I actually said), please let me know.

He made birds and streams sing, waves and waterfalls crash. The wind croons; the oceans roar; the leaves on a billion trees dance, and all creation keep time to the music.

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Want to Know God Better? Do This

Posted on January 10, 2026 by salooper57

Martin Bucer, who had left the Church of Rome in protest, wrote: “We agree with our adversaries in this, that the justified person must necessarily live righteously. We agree likewise that they will perish eternally, who do not perform good works.”

Peter Martyr said, “We must know that faith cannot be void of good works.”

Martin Chemnitz wrote “that he [God] requires from them [Christians] good works.”

In a sermon, John Calvin declared that “the gift of good works … shows that we have received the Spirit of adoption.”

I quote these particular theologians in the hope of emphasizing the importance of good works without going off onto a rabbit trail of theological controversy. These men were all early reformers who fiercely denied that good works could save a person, yet insisted that good works are integral to the Christian life. The Bible itself says a great deal about good works and their importance, but before going into that, it may be helpful to clarify what is meant by “good works.”

I do not mean what St. Paul sometimes meant by “works”: the performance of practices prescribed by the Law of Moses (e.g., Galatians 2:16). These are what might be called religious good works: circumcision being first among them, but also including adherence to dietary laws and the keeping of holy days (think weekly Sabbaths, high Sabbaths, and special days). When Paul argues against “works,” it is these kinds of “works” he has in mind.

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Here, when I speak of good works, I am thinking of actions that are inspired by faith and expressed in service to God Titus 3:8; James 2:14-26). These could include, for example, a “religious” duty like going to church, but might also include taking a meal to a fellow church member who has lost a spouse, giving cash to an unemployed acquaintance, or helping the proverbial little old lady across the street. These are acts of love, and they are of great consequence in the lives of believers. Martin Bucer – as strongly opposed to a salvation-by-works doctrine as Luther himself – would say that people who do not perform such good works will perish eternally!

Across the theological spectrum, it is agreed that good works should characterize the follower of Jesus. It is, therefore, appropriate to ask ourselves if good works characterize us. What are we doing that is inspired by faith and expressed in service to God? What acts of love have we engaged in recently?

There are dozens of times in the New Testament when we are enjoined to do good/beautiful works or when such works are closely linked to a believer’s life. We are told that people will glorify God because of our good works (Matthew 5:16; 1 Peter 2:12). By doing what is good, we are protected from wasted and unproductive lives (Titus 3:14). God himself has prepared good deeds for us to do (Ephesians 2:10), and doing them will lead to a harvest (Galatians 6:9). A believer’s good works are the visible manifestation of what would otherwise be an invisible faith (James 2:18).

One text, often overlooked in a discussion about good works, is Colossians 1. Interceding for the believers in Colosse (vv. 9-12), Paul prays that they will please the Lord in every way, and then proceeds to list some of those ways. First on the list: “bearing fruit in every good work” (Colossians 1:10).

What comes next, “growing in the knowledge of God,” is closely connected to “bearing fruit in every good work” by the conjunction “and” (καὶ). Paul seems to intentionally link a growing knowledge of God with an engagement in fruit-bearing good works. Every believer who has ever done one of the “good works which God prepared in advance for us to do” has known God better because of it.

Want to know God better? Do the good works he prepared in advance for you to do. The equation goes like this: Doing good works God selected for you = knowing God better and more intimately.

A few verses later in Colossians 1, we see the other side of this equation. In English versions, this is easily missed, but it stands out in Greek. In verse 21, Paul reminds the Colossians that they were once alienated from God and their thinking was hostile toward him “in your evil works” (literal translation).

We get to know God better by doing the works he wisely chose for us to do. In Paul’s language, we “grow in the knowledge of him.” But we will grow in our alienation from, and hostility toward, God if we do the evil works God does not want us to do. Either way, the “works” we do play an important role in our relationship with God.

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The Story of the Bible (as told on the Emmaus Road)

Posted on January 7, 2026 by salooper57

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Heads Up

Posted on January 5, 2026 by salooper57

I just wanted to let you know that I started a sermon series this week I’m calling Wide Angle. In it, we’ll explore the big picture of the Bible, how it fits together, and what difference that makes for us. Over the years, I have heard the refrain, “I can’t understand the Bible,” many times. This is an effort to help people – including me – understand the Bible in a way that helps us live out its good news.

I’ll be posting the first sermon, an introduction and overview based on Luke 24 (the Emmaus Road passage), later in the week. Hope you enjoy. And if you would prefer to read the sermon rather that watch/listen, let me know.

Shayne

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This Year, Punch Up Your Resolution

Posted on January 3, 2026 by salooper57
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I haven’t made a New Years resolution in years—maybe ever. I’ve always thought: “Why make a resolution? Just do what you know you’re supposed to do.” Besides that, I’ve known many people who make resolutions but only kept them for a week or two.

That is because people usually resolve to do something they really don’t want to do. Of course, they want the result – being thinner, being stronger, being more knowledgeable – but they don’t want to do what it takes to get there: diet, exercise, and read. Sitting on the sofa, eating chips, and watching TV is much more comfortable. If we actually wanted to diet (rather than lose weight), wanted to work out (rather than be strong), wanted to read (rather than be smart), our resolutions might have more effect.

Even though I have not made New Years resolutions in the past, I am making one this year. I resolve to complain less and continue doing so until I do not complain at all. I think I am a natural complainer. It’s always been easier for me to see what is wrong in a given situation than to see what is right. That inclination, whether instilled by nature or by nurture (or both), makes it easy for me to complain.

I walk out of a church service, thinking the preacher took forty-five minutes to say what he could have said in ten. My wife and I get in the car and before we leave the parking lot, she has commented on the “good sermon.”

Well, I’ve had enough of it. I want to stop complaining – not just because people don’t like to be around complainers (though they don’t), but because I don’t like complaining. And because St. Paul says, “Do all things without grumbling and complaining” (Philippians 2:14). He also said, “And do not grumble, as some of them did—and were killed by the destroying angel” (1 Cor. 10:10-11) I’m not looking over my shoulder for that angel, but grumbling seems like a very unhealthy habit.

So, I’ve resolved to stop it. How am I going to keep that resolution when so many other people fail to keep theirs—many of them stronger and more capable than me?

For one thing, I am going to write my resolution out and keep it where I can see it. Writing does something to us that merely thinking does not. I am going to write my resolution in a similar fashion to the resolutions that a young Jonathon Edwards wrote for himself (http://www.jonathan-edwards.org/Resolutions.html). He prefaced them this way: “Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God’s help, I do humbly entreat him by his grace to enable me to keep these Resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to his will, for Christ’s sake.”

Over the space of a few months, Edwards wrote 70 resolutions. The first is this: “Resolved, that I will do whatsoever I think to be most to God’s glory, and my own good, profit and pleasure, in the whole of my duration, without any consideration of the time, whether now, or never so many myriads of ages hence. Resolved to do whatever I think to be my duty and most for the good and advantage of mankind in general. Resolved to do this, whatever difficulties I meet with, how many soever, and how great soever.” The 70th and final resolution is this: “Let there be something of benevolence, in all that I speak.” 

My resolution is this: “With God’s help, I resolve to complain less and continue doing so until I do not complain at all. When I fail – and realize it – I will confess my failure and stop.”

To make this resolve stick, I will recruit the help of family and friends. I will, for example, ask my wife to point out to me when I am complaining and, if necessary, point out to me when I am attempting to justify my complaint. Perhaps I need a second resolution to listen graciously and gratefully when I am rebuked for complaining.

If you are making a resolution this year, why not punch it up a bit? Write it out and put it where you will see it. When you stop seeing it in that place (which will happen), move it to another place. Then enlist help from people who love you. Ask them to alert you to those times when you go back on your resolution.

As long as you are making a resolution, why not make it stick?

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Look Four Ways Before Crossing (Hebrews 12:1-3)

Posted on January 1, 2026 by salooper57

A Sermon for the New Year

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The Telescoping Reality of Christmas

Posted on December 27, 2025 by salooper57

Remember the telescoping spyglass that Jack Sparrow used in The Pirates of the Cairbbean? There is a wide cylinder in which a narrower cylinder rests, in which a yet narrower cylinder rests, and perhaps a couple more. I think our view of reality is likewise telescoping. We live in the narrow end and view our world through the lens of immediate experience. But we and our experiences are contained within a family circle, and our family circle exists within a community, and our community exists within a nation, and our nation exists within a world.

Most of our attention is given to the nearest circles of reality: ourselves, our family, and our immediate community; and that is normal and good. But it is important to remember that we are part of something bigger, and that something bigger is part of something bigger still.

Think again of the telescoping spyglass and how its widest cylinder contains all the others in their entirety. It is that way with us, where the widest circle is not our nation, our world, or even our cosmos. The widest circle, containing all others, is our God. He is, in the language of the apostle, “All in all” (1 Cor. 15:29).

We do ourselves injury when we fail to see that all things exist within the rule and love of our God. This includes the good and beautiful things we enjoy, the hard things we endure, and even the grievous things we must bear. Though we live within all these things, they exist within the encompassing scope of the gracious God’s good intent.

When we fail to believe this, many things disturb our peace and cast doubt on our security. Instead of being an opportunity to know God, life becomes an irritation and a threat. We question whether God loves us, whether we’ll be okay, whether we are enough. We fill our vision with the enemies that threaten us and the griefs that might overtake us, but we do not pan out wide enough to see the heavenly Father within whose will these things exist and must serve our good.

In Luke’s Christmas story, we read that “Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.” Did the emperor’s decree, one wonders, disturb St. Joseph’s peace? Things were already so difficult. Before he got married, his betrothed had become pregnant under mysterious circumstances and had remained long away from home. And now this accursed international census, instituted by the Emperor Augustus, had come to Israel.

There are various purposes for a census, but one is universal: effective taxation. Apparently, the Divine Caesar needed to do something about his cash flow. Posting troops around the world was expensive then, just as it is now. It is hard to plan a budget when you don’t know how much revenue to expect. And you won’t know how much to expect unless you identify your sources of revenue; hence, the census.

In Israel, unlike in the provinces, people were required to return to their ancestral homes to be registered in the census. Had I been Joseph, I fear I would have complained: complained about the emperor, the situation, the time off work, and pretty much everything else.

Perhaps Joseph, good man that he was, did not complain. Perhaps he saw that he, and his circumstances, and his work, and even his loathsome emperor were within the good God’s good intent. Whatever may be the case, Joseph traveled to his ancestral home; he went to Bethlehem. Luke tells us that he did this because he belonged to the house and line of David. And he took Mary with him.

Why he took Mary is not exactly clear. In other regions of the Empire, only landowners were required to register. Perhaps Mary, who was also from David’s line, was an only child and had inherited property from her parents. Or perhaps Joseph took her along to get her out of Nazareth because of what people there were saying about her. Whatever his reasons, Joseph took Mary with him, though she was “expecting a” (or, as the King James translated, was “great with”) “child.”

When they arrived in Bethlehem, they could not find housing. Whether this was because there were no vacancies or because family members, who were expected – obliged, really – to take them in, had heard that Mary was carrying someone else’s baby and refused, we do not know. But poor Joseph was forced to house his family in a stable, which in all probability was a cave that shepherds used for shelter in inclement weather.

But all these immediate realities were contained in the larger reality of God’s good will, like the telescoping brass cylinders in Jack Sparrow’s spyglass. In other words, even the most difficult experiences fit into and serve God’s loving purpose. This is wonderfully exemplified in the Christmas story.

Joseph and Mary, wracked by gossip and forced to make a long and expensive trip, find their way to Bethlehem. They arrive in “the town of David” before the baby is born, and so fulfill a 700-year-old prophecy: “But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times” (Micah 5:2).

Because they can find no lodging, they must resort to a place that Bethlehem’s shepherds know well. And so, the shepherds to whom the angel announced the birth of Israel’s savior know where to look for a “baby wrapped in strips of cloth and lying in a manger.”

Joseph, living in the narrow end of our telescoping reality and viewing the world through his immediate experiences, probably could not see these things. But God could see perfectly how all these things would work together to advance the salvation of the world.

An hour or two ago, I left the hospital after reading the Christmas story to a man and his wife and praying with them. The man has been in the hospital for 18 days. Each time that it looks like he will be able to leave, something happens to extend his stay. Yesterday or the day before, he developed a pulmonary embolism. His wife has grown discouraged.

Why read the Christmas story to people in that situation? Because they too are living in the narrow end of our telescoping reality and viewing the world through their immediate experiences. But their experiences, just like those of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, are contained within the good and perfect will of God. And that is also where our experiences, good and bad, easy and hard, are located.

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Bedlam to Bethlehem

Posted on December 25, 2025 by salooper57

Have you listened to the radio at all lately? On some stations it’s all Christmas, all the time – a veritable cacophony of Christmas carols; a musical bedlam. If some of our contemporary Christmas music had played in Bethlehem on that first Christmas night, I’m pretty there would have been room in the inn for the holy family.

Did you know that there is a historical connection between Bethlehem and Bedlam? In the year 1247, a London bishop opened a monastery known as the Priory of St. Mary of Bethlehem. Among other things, the priory provided a place to stay for the homeless poor, and its friars collected alms to be used for their care. For many years, perhaps more than a century, the people living and working at the Priory wore a star of Bethlehem for identification.

Then in 1370, the British government took control of the priory and eventually turned it into the first hospital in the western world to care for the mentally insane. Most of the people committed to Bethlehem Hospital had either murdered or tried to murder someone, and many were uncontrollably violent. All the hospital’s inmates were chained to iron rings in the walls. If they weren’t mentally ill when they entered the hospital, they were before they left.

By the late fourteenth century, it was increasingly common for people to spell the name of the hospital differently, as Bethlem rather than Bethlehem. Sometime after that, hospital officials began charging an admittance fee for people who wanted to tour the hospital to see the inmates, the way people go to zoos to see the animals. By that time, Bethlem had been further slurred into bedlam, which came to stand for a scene of madness, uproar and confusion.

Isn’t it strange that a place built for hospitality and peace, a place named Bethlehem after the birthplace of the Prince of Peace, should become a byword for a place of madness, uproar and confusion?

Or is it strange? Christmas, the celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace is now for many people a time of madness, uproar and confusion. On Black Friday (talk about a name!) the stores play carols announcing “peace on earth, good will to men” while crazed shoppers push and shove and step on one another in a frenzy to spend money they don’t have for things they don’t need to give to people they don’t love. It’s bedlam all over again.

Indeed, the world always sits on a razor’s edge between Bethlehem and Bedlam, heaven and hell, peace and uproar. Whatever your Christmas season has been like so far, tonight I want to invite you to leave Bedlam and come to Bethlehem. Step out of the chaos of covetousness and into the composure of faith. Come to Bethlehem and see him whose birth the angels sing. Come, adore on bended knee Christ the Lord, the newborn king.

Ancient peoples (as well as some moderns) believed that there are “thin places” on earth where the natural and supernatural meet, where heaven and earth intersect. They imagined that the otherwise impenetrable barrier between the physical and spiritual worlds is permeable in these places. Tianmen Mountain in China is one, so is the Lempuyang Temple in Bali, and the Drombeg Stone Circle in Ireland.

I don’t know if thin places really exist, but if they do, Bethlehem may be one of them. This place where the mother of the patriarchs was buried (going on 4,000 years ago), where David the King of Israel was born (3,000 years ago), and to which wise men from the East traveled (2,000 years ago) has been the site of remarkable things, but none so important as the birth of Jesus.

Karen and I were in Bethlehem for one afternoon about ten years ago. To get there, we had to pass through a security wall, and it was not at all permeable. The barrier between heaven and earth may be thin at Bethlehem, but the barrier between Israel and Palestine is not. Once we got through the checkpoint and onto the Palestinian side, we saw signs and graffiti, even novelty t-shirts, threatening Israel and demanding liberation. 2,000 years after the birth of Jesus, Bethlehem is not a place of peace.

But do you know what? Things were not very different 2,000 years ago. When Jesus was born in Bethlehem, people there cursed the government and dreamed of liberation. In fact, the reason (on strictly human grounds) that Jesus was born in Bethlehem rather than somewhere else was an imperial decree that sent nationals back to their ancestral homes for the purpose of conducting a census.

Why did the emperor want a census? Because the data collected would guide his people in imposing the taxes that would fund the military government’s occupation of Israel and pay foreign troops to patrol her cities. You can imagine the resentment that inspired. When a census was taken in the next decade, that resentment boiled over into a major revolt that launched the Zealot resistance movement. The Bethlehem into which Jesus was born was not a place of “deep and dreamless sleep,” despite the carol’s lyrics. It was Bedlam. 

Bethlehem’s location did not make it a place of peace, nor did the supposedly permeable nature of spiritual reality there. What made Bethlehem a place of peace was the presence of the Prince of Peace. Jesus turns Bedlam into Bethlehem, chaos into peace. Or say rather that we can experience peace in the midst of chaos, and calm even at the crossroads of Bedlam if he is with us.

And that’s a message we need to hear today. Many of us reside in a Bedlam zip-code. Our homes have a Bedlam address. Our lives are busy, noisy, hurried, and confused. You may remember that when the Son of God arrived in Bedlam, there was no room in the inn. When he comes to us now, he finds things haven’t changed much. There is no room in our hearts. We are too busy, especially – ironically – at Christmas. Our minds are occupied. Our doors are closed. There is no vacancy.

And so, there is no peace. But the Son of God has never gone looking for a place of peace to enter—if that were the case, he would not have gone to Bethlehem. (And for that matter, he would never have come to this rebellious planet at all.) No, he looks for a person who will trust him, a person to whom and through whom he can bring peace. Personal peace and trust in God go together.

It’s striking how often the biblical writers connect the two. For example: “Your faith has saved you; go in peace” (Luke 7:50). Or how about this: “…since we have been justified through faith, we have peace…” (Romans 5:1). Or this, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him…” (Romans 15:13). Or this, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me” (John 14:1). Or this, “When I am afraid, I will trust in you” (Psalm 56:3).  Or better yet: “…in God I trust; I will not be afraid” (Psalm 56:11). Or this, “Surely God is my salvation; I will trust and not be afraid” (Isaiah 12:2). Or this, “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” (Isaiah 26:3).

You see, the Prince of Peace entered a world of bedlam to free its inhabitants and bring them peace. But he cannot lead us there unless we trust him. Trust him: in his life and his death, in his wisdom and his word. You can say, “Peace! Peace!” but there will be no peace without the Prince of Peace.

Jesus once grieved over the city of Jerusalem and its people with these words: “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes” (Luke 19:42). What would have brought them peace? The same thing that can bring us peace: the Prince of Peace.

On the night of his birth, in the hills outside Bethlehem, the angel said to the shepherds, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Then all of heaven seemed to burst into song. The angel was joined by a host (the word means “army”) of angel peace-keepers who said, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among people with whom he is pleased!” And with whom is he pleased? He is pleased with those who love the One he loves: his Son Jesus Christ; and to them he gives his peace.

Jesus is the Peace-maker between God and us, and between us and one another. He is the one who unites Jews and Gentiles, whites and blacks, rich and poor, for he is our peace. He is the one who gives peace in chaos: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled” (John 14:27). He is the one who brings us peace in our anxiety: “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7).

When our lives are in chaos, we often make the mistake of looking for peace when we ought to be calling to Jesus. We try to escape the chaos in distraction, but when the distraction ends, the chaos remains. Don’t look for peace; that leads to addiction. Look for the Peace-maker. Don’t simply try to get control of your life; try to give control of your life to him. Christmas will come and go, but give your life to Christ, and he will come and stay.

I started by speaking of “thin places,” where heaven and earth meet, but the barrier between heaven and earth is not permeable in a place; it is permeable in a person: Jesus. It is in a manger that heaven and earth meet and kiss. And it is at a cross that the gate of heaven opens.

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