2022 Sunday Messages: Recent Episodes
Clinton Reese
Every Sunday at 5pm a new message from Pastor Tom will enlighten you and give a thought provoking message.
Our adventures in life are often spawned by events that we prefer would never happen. Such was the case for the Prophet Ezekiel (Ez 1:1-28). I tend to think this was the case for Terah, Abraham’s father when he left Ur of the Chaldeans and ended up in Harran, about half-way to his stated goal of Canaan (Gen 11:27-32). When God spoke to Abram, the journey continued encouraged by God’s promise of land, people and blessings (Gen 12:1-5). As Abram traveled, he listened to God and worshipped. First at Shechem (Gen 12:6-7); then Bethel (Gen 12:8); the Negev (Gen 12:9); Egypt (Gen 12:10); back to the Negev (Gen 13:1-2); and Bethel (Gen 13:3-4) until quarreling broke out between Abram and Lot, his nephew over rights to grazing land (Gen 13:5-7). Quarreling led to family separation (Gen 13:8-13), but continue affirmation to Abram from God (Gen 13:14-17) and further worship from Abram, this time at Hebron (Gen 13:18). When Abram’s faith in God’s promises wavered, he would receive further affirmation (Gen 15:1-5). Which leads to this pivotal verse: Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6). Paul used this verse to undergird his message that salvation comes through faith (Romans 4:3, 18) James quotes this verse to support his contention that faith must be supported by works (Jam 2:23-24). No matter which side of this controversy you may land, I believe all of us are called to take a leap of faith, to sail away with Jesus as our captain, to live the adventure that includes listening and worshipping and action no matter how difficult the path.
Maybe one of the appeals of the Bible is that it is filled with adventure stories, and the Epiphany, the wise men traveling from the east to Jerusalem and finally Bethlehem is one of the greatest adventures of all time (Matt 2:1-2). Many ironies show up in the story. Certainly wisdom from the east is definitely counter-intuitive for a good Jew (Gen 3:23-24; 4:15-16; Jonah 4:3-5). That a monster like Herod figuring into the story so prominently is also unusual (Matt 2:3-8). Should we then be surprised that very difficult people figure into our stories as well? For the wise men, the star stopped over Bethlehem (Matt 2:9-10), but maybe our star is still moving? No matter, in order to maintain our sense of adventure we need to genuinely worship and extravagantly give (Matt 2:11). God expects our best (Gen 22:1-2), and it disheartens us and saddens Jesus when we give less (Mk 10:17-22). If we don’t have silver and gold, we need to give what we have (Acts 3:3-6). One more irony, generally speaking our greatest gift is our deepest pain.
A tattered flag flies over a nearby Hardee’s, a reminder of how fragile the union it represents? Do we remain indivisible? Is there liberty and justice for all? Is our democracy stable or teetering on the edge?
For many the church has become either irrelevant, misguided, or downright dangerous as it goose-steps behind religious-nationalistic leadership. If a deranged populist says black is white or 2+2=5, heads bow in submission and arms rise in adoration, while others look on with dismay or disgust.
Every autumn growing up, the Andrews family front yard doubled as the neighborhood football field. Boys from all over Pinecrest would gather after school, choose up sides and slug it out until the sun would tell everyone to go home.
Sometimes those words make me extremely happy, after visiting the dentist for instance. But ironically, they can be exceptionally painful, especially if coming from a long-time friend. I heard those words this past week from a friend of long stories, good laughs and exchanged gifts.
It was the biggest game in my high school career. Jefferson and Stuart vied for first place in the Northern District. The Washington Post even sent out a reporter to cover the excitement…and exciting it was…nip and tuck down to the very end.
Actually, my name was mentioned several times in this article, but never in a good way. “Jefferson’s final bid for victory, a follow-up basket by Steve Greenstreet, was disallowed when the officials ruled time had expired. Earlier, Tom Andrews missed a free throw with 12 seconds left that would have tied the game…. Andrews later grabbed a loose ball and threw up the shot that led to the disputed ruling.”
Is it any wonder that Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Like the rest of us, I am sure Jesus figured out that little children are a heck of a lot more fun than most any adult.
But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. 5God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves to the law, so that he could adopt us as his very own children. Galatians 4:4-5
“He is risen!” “He is risen indeed!”
Those words take on new meaning for me during this second Easter of Covid. At HarborPointe, we have remained extremely cautious about gatherings. But the time is coming, hopefully sooner than later, when we will be able to say: “We are risen! We are risen, indeed!” As vaccines become more widely available, our make-shift worship gatherings may once again be “HarborPointe normal.”
My childhood reverberates with a gospel of sin and grace, failure and forgiveness. Taken in the proper context, it is the good part of Good Friday. “Father forgive them for they know not what they do” is a message for me as much as for the unwitting Roman soldiers. It’s not father or mother, sister or brother, sinner or preacher, deacon or teacher, but rather “It’s me standing in the need of prayer.” In some miraculous way humility coupled with faith recreates us in God’s image.
A few months ago, Ann and I made a pilgrimage to Holly Lawn Cemetery in Suffolk, the final resting place for many family members including my mom and dad. On the way we stopped to see Aunt Lois who for the past 50 years has lived on Brewer Avenue, a street I knew so well as a child because it was also home to my grandparents oh so long ago.
Memories flooded back of childhood adventures, deeply ingrained and so very rich. I told Ann about cousin Chay, born in 1950 just like me, a good friend and congenial competitor from birth through high school. Four or five times a year my Northern Virginia family would head south to reunite with our Suffolk kin. When this happened, Chay and I were inseparable. While the adults talked and told stories, the same-aged cousins played board games, ran races, fought imaginary enemies, laughed, joked and genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. Among other things I learned along with Chay never to fire your pea shooter at the local bully riding his bike down the street, even if you do it from your grandparent’s front porch. And even more important, never fire your pea shooter at a wasp’s nest no matter what.
But like Little Jackie Paper, both Chay and I grew up and no longer entertained imaginary dragons or fought for pirate gold. Upon graduation from high school, treasured childhood toys and dreams were lost and forgotten. We pretty much went our separate ways, seeing less and less of each other as we no longer shared common ground. The last time I saw him, Chay and I were 20-years-old. His IQ was off the charts… creative, curious, hard-working, like-able, but we took different paths.
We parted company and lost track. Years turned into decades, until out of the blue I heard from Chay’s cousin, Ford. Their mom, my Aunt Winnie had died. My condolences immediately went out to Ford, but my memories remained most closely attached to Chay.
That was when the Holy Spirit began to speak to me through my wife, again.
“You ought to call Chay.”
“I don’t know how to get in touch.”
“I’ll look him up on Facebook.”
“I doubt if he is interested. We haven’t spoken in 50 years. He may feel like I am intruding…”
But she was persistent, and I felt obligated. So, a couple of weeks ago, I ginned up the courage to make this long overdue phone call… And I can’t begin to tell you how glad I was as the Chay and Tom of early childhood seemed to reemerge. The things that separated seemed to dissolve sentence by sentence and story by story.
We concluded with a promise to stay in touch and meet together in person after vaccines make that safe. I know that “all good things come to those who wait.” But it is also true that “there is no time like the present” especially when you have an opportunity to become friends once again with an almost forgotten cousin.
People my age sometimes enter a second childhood…complete with sports cars, leisure suits and gold medallions. Faces are lifted and bald spots swooped-over in a futile war on time. My mother used to say “There is no fool like an old fool” with lots of examples to choose from.
Despite consensus medical and scientific assertions, many people continue to question whether they ought to or should get vaccinated. Some have health issues that may put them at risk. Others are driven by personal philosophies or political persuasion or just plain fear. Who wants something alien, unnecessary, and with possible side-effects injected into your body?
A family Christmas tradition invites each member to acknowledge a gift we would like to give Jesus before opening our presents. These sharing times are always fun-filled with Andrews’ sanctioned joking and joshing… But everyone became serious and reflective when seven-year-old Ben volunteered his gift: “I would like to give Jesus my heart…” Indeed, as Jesus once said listening to “children and infants” may be the best place to begin our journey into the kingdom of God…a place adults too oft’ forsake in favor of the kingdom of this world.
Even though it is time to observe the Lenten season, many of us are in no mood for giving up anything more than COVID has already required. The loss of 500,000 Americans, several whom I know personally, is staggering and a somber reminder that life is fragile. The masks, social distancing, limited gatherings, and constrained travel are continual minor sacrifices (spiritual disciplines?) for what we understand is the greater social good. Should we even skip formal Lenten practices this year and call COVID enough?
Pastor Tom and Ann will be walking everyone through preparing and using ashes as well as communion. We hope you can join us for this important time of reflection and preparation for the 40 days leading to Easter.
The other night Ann and I re-watched the old classic, “Singin’ in the Rain.” I can’t tell you how much I admired Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor as they magically move to the rhythm of a corny but fun dance flick.
“Keep your head up, Tommy!” shouted Coach Hulen. His shortstop may have been quick enough to cover a lot of ground and competitive enough to always give his best, but routine ground balls too often turned into an adventure of bobbles and errant throws. This display of ineptitude both frustrated and disgusted me. Failure became my highlight reel that I would play over and over in self-torture, so by the time I was a sophomore in high school, I began nursing a well-deserved ulcer. But in contradistinction, no matter what mistake I might make on the field, I always heard those reassuring words “Keep your head up, Tommy!”
Do you know what it is like to sleep peacefully until your first trip to the bathroom and then for some unknown reason you vainly attempt to solve all your problems and some of the world’s?
One of the great privileges of my boyhood days, was the post-game ritual of lining up and shaking hands with the opposing team. It was a sign of respect, sportsmanship, and the American way. Since that time I have always admired the college and professional athletes and coaches who scratch and claw like cats and dogs on the field, but after the game briskly walk over to congratulate their opponent. Some even kneel, link arms and pray, acknowledging that there is something more important going on in this world than a Superbowl.
January 6, 2021 has become another epiphany of sorts. I watched in horror along with most of America as a riotous mob stormed the capitol, threatened our elected leaders, killed a policeman by bashing his head with a fire extinguisher, and hospitalized many others while those outside smiled, took selfies, and high-fived one another with obvious satisfaction. A demagogue-like leader eschewed a peaceful transfer of power and instead incited, instigated, and mobilized this disgrace.
What kind of dreams are possible in this fear filled environment? Tom Andrews, pastor of HarborPointe community church in Hampton, VA.