Why So We Say the Apostles' Creed, a sermon based on Genesis 1: 1-4 and 2nd Corinthians 13: 11-13, preached on May 31, 2026

If you look at your order of worship, you’ll see that the title for my sermon today takes the form of a question. Thinking about this 10-week sermon series on the Apostles’ Creed, your pastors thought it best to begin by asking, “Why do we say the Apostles’ Creed?” What’s the purpose of this ritual that we take part in, Sunday after Sunday? Each week I ask, “Friends, what do you believe?” Is it like Pavlov’s Dog that you recite without thinking, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty? Why do we say the Apostles’ Creed? If the unexamined life is not worth living, then the unexamined ritual is not worth doing. Rather than keep the tradition for the sake of tradition, consider with me why we say the Apostles’ Creed that this element of the worship service might have a greater depth of meaning. So why do we do it? Reason number 1: because it is good for a group of people to remember that they pretty much believe the same thing. Have you thought about that? Think with me about all that we have in common. While we all have a favorite hymn, and my favorite hymn is not the same as your favorite hymn, we sing out of the same hymnal. We may have a different favorite Bible verse, yet we read from the same Bible. We sit in different pews, yet we are under the same roof, and we all stand together and say, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty” because there are virtues that unify us. There are standards that we hold in common. With one voice, we say, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” Before we even get to the meaning of that phrase, which is the subject for next Sunday’s sermon, consider the miracle of saying something together, and I say it is a miracle, for we live in a divided nation, yet each Sunday, we stand in agreement. To stand in agreement is noteworthy, for as a people, we are not all that agreeable. Some of us argue with our waiters, which doesn’t make any sense. To argue with a person who has ample time to spit in what you’re about to eat is foolish, yet people still do it. Some also argue with their television sets. Your TV can’t hear you, yet many do that as well. Some of us even argue with ourselves. It’s been said by my friend Steve Lebow, the Rabbi Emeritus of Temple Kol Emeth in East Cobb, that whenever there are two Jewish people gathered, there are at least three different opinions, yet here we stand to say, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” Remember that in a world of uncertainty, you believe in something, and don’t forget that you stand with the person next to you to share core convictions that you have in common, for a divided house cannot stand. I once heard a story about a man who, shipwrecked, lived on a deserted island alone for five years. When his rescuers came, he first wanted to show them around. There were three huts. “The first is my house,” he said. “The second is my church.” “What’s the third?” his rescuers asked. “That’s the church I used to go to. I don’t go there anymore. I couldn’t get along with those people.” Let’s talk about “those people.” There is diversity of opinion and background within this church. You don’t all vote the same way. You don’t think the same way. Some have been members here for generations. Others are here for the first time today. Some of us dip our French fries into ketchup; others, like barbarians, squirt their ketchup on top. Some wake up and drink coffee and others, orange juice. Some come to church for the music; others for their Sunday school class. I once knew a man who said that he just came to church for the hugs. In this culture of isolation, we join here as a family of faith, a community of believers, members all in the household of God. Our differences are miniscule compared to our common convictions. Our accomplishments give no one a reason to boast, for we are all in need of the Savior’s grace. When we rediscover what we share, it changes the way we interact, not only with the people in here, but the people out there. Last week, I was blessed to chaperone our high school mission trip. I’m so glad I did, even though I got home at 11:00 last night and am suffering from severe sleep deprivation. My daughters were less than enthusiastic about their dad going on this trip, but they eventually relented, and I’m so thankful because I got to see them in action. I watched as our little youth group became a community. That’s what happens when you’re stuck in a van for hours without a phone in your hands. Our youth group voted to leave their phones at home for the trip because they know that their phones keep them from talking with each other. Without their phones, talking with each other is what they did. They also served the Lord all over Georgia and Alabama. During the trip, we volunteered here at the Pantry on Church in the rain. The next day, we drove downtown to feed unhoused men and women along Ponce de Leon. The pastor we partnered with there encouraged our kids to get to know the people they fed. Introducing us to his leadership team, he mentioned that one of the people who was organizing the meal we’d serve still spent his nights without a roof over his head. Before we even started, we were rubbing shoulders with different kinds of people. It was an uncomfortable thing to eat with people who look different and smell different rather than just put food in their hands, so at first, the members of our group were standoffish. They were being asked to talk with people they typically avert their eyes from, yet slowly, in the breaking of the bread, they recognized that people who find shelter in bus stops and spend rainy days in public libraries are just people. People with needs, yes, but also people who could quote Scripture, and who wanted to encourage our young people. People with names and stories and wants and dreams. Some with college degrees. Others with artistic gifts. One man we ran into twice used the money people gave him to buy pens and markers that he used to create beautiful artwork, intricate masterpieces that he carried in plastic bags to protect from the elements. We asked him if he sold them, and he said he simply created them for the glory of God. Isn’t it good to remember our common faith that binds us together? Notice with me the Apostle Paul in our second Scripture lesson; as he closed his letter to the church in Corinth, he writes, “Finally, brothers and sisters, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you. Greet one another with a holy kiss.” I just love that. It makes me think about changing the way we pass the peace of Christ. “Greet one another with a holy kiss.” Maybe that’s a little too much, but you can’t kiss someone you don’t trust, and you can’t trust someone if you don’t know where they’re coming from, so let us remember that we share common convictions. We all stand to say that we believe the same thing. Remember that, for we live in a land of paranoia and anxiety. A world of suspicion and fear. Our culture, be it the news, the media, or social media, keeps us so focused on the darkness that we forget about the Light. Whether we are high school freshmen who walk through the halls of the high school fearful of whoever comes around the corner or adults living alone going days or weeks without hearing anyone call them by name, when we offer each other welcome, we provide a gift, and when we are attuned to convictions we share in common, it helps us to feel a little less alone. There’s a great line from the author of the book Theo of Golden that so many people are reading. In an interview, the author said that Theo helps a town of individuals remember that they are neighbors. Would you remember that the person sitting next to you is your brother, and that your sister lives across the street? Would you dare to live that hymn we grew up singing? We are one in the Spirit. We are one in the Lord. And we pray that all unity will one day be restored. And they’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love. Yes, they’ll know we are Christians by our love. Another incredible experience we had last week on that high school mission trip was eating food prepared from chefs born in the Congo, Ethiopia, and East Asia. Before we tried what they prepared, our high school students were asked by our hosts about their favorite exotic food. “What’s something adventurous that you like to eat?” they asked, and Thomas Foster said, “Fiber One Cereal.” Now think about this with me. Thomas Foster’s idea of exotic is Fiber One Cereal, and yet, he was served salad made with tea leaves from Myanmar, wet bread spiced with seasonings he’d never heard of from Ethiopia, and the fried pastries served at Congolese weddings, yet he tried all of it. They all did. They ate the food that they were served. They were welcomed by the chefs who served it. They were learning that while there are movements that claim to be Christian at work within our nation right now that so focus on what makes us different, the way of Jesus reminds us that what truly matters is not where we come from or whom we vote for but the faith that we share: “I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” Not everyone in here looks the same or dresses the same, we’re not all from the same generation, we don’t have the same amount of melanin in our skin, some of us have more hair on our heads and others less, yet we all say, “I believe.” I believe the same as you and you as me, for the body is weak when it is divided, but we are strong when we stand together in faith. Would you stand with me now? Together, let us say what we believe.

Would That All the Lord's People Were Prophets, a sermon based on Numbers 11: 24-30 and Acts 2: 1-21, preached on May 24, 2026

There’s an old trailer in our big parking lot. I’m talking about the parking lot that’s across the Harris Hines Bridge. In a corner of that great big parking lot is an old trailer taking up space. You may have noticed it. While we now have four beautiful vehicles parked where people can see them, we’ve been hiding this one old trailer in the corner of our biggest parking lot, and last Monday morning, as I looked at its flat tires and noticed the lichen growing on it, I thought to myself, “I hope we can get rid of this thing somehow.” That was Monday, but selling a used trailer wasn’t on my calendar. I didn’t have any more time to think about it. Last week, I was busy with meetings and preparing for a wedding. On Tuesday, I was honored to pray the opening prayer at the Cobb County Board of Zoning Appeals. That was an exciting opportunity. I was honored to be invited to ask for God’s guidance as the county commission considered their business on a day when two of them were facing opposition in a primary election. I was thinking about how to pray as I walked through the metal detector. The room was full of people ready to speak up and have their voices heard. I found an open seat at the front next to a man who clearly thought I had sat down too close to him. He looked at me, then scooted over a little bit. Noticing his discomfort, I introduced myself and told him that I’m a pastor at First Presbyterian Church. Sometimes, sitting next to a pastor makes people feel more comfortable. Other times, it makes them feel less. In the case of this man, it was a moment of providence, for he took out his phone and began scrolling through pictures. He asked if First Presbyterian is the church with the old trailer in the great big parking lot, then showed me the picture he had taken of our trailer on his phone. “I was showing a picture of your trailer to my wife,” he said, “We’d like to take it off your hands. Would you be willing to sell it to me?” My friends, that’s no coincidence. In that simple gesture, I felt again the assurance that God is at work in our world. When we step out into the world, we go, not alone, for there is no place we can go where God is not. Pushed by the Holy Spirit, we go out into the world as His disciples, and the more we are open to the movement of the Holy Spirit, the more confident we are in the truth that God is at work in our world, the better we can step out in faith. Today is Pentecost Sunday when we remember all of that. The Great Hall is adorned in red as we remember how the Holy Spirit blazed like a fire among those first disciples. The Spirit gave them the ability to speak in other languages so that they might be understood by the crowds of people who traveled to Jerusalem from the four corners of the earth. That was a miracle, plain and simple, yet notice with me what the Spirit did. The Spirit pushed the disciples out into the world and gave them the ability to speak in other languages. Consider with me the specifics of this miracle: They were pushed out into the world, and they began to speak in other languages. Think about these things because there have been Christians nervous about foreign languages for hundreds of years. I told you before in the announcements that this summer, we’ll be preaching a sermon series on the Apostles’ Creed and will spend time trying to better understand some of the more difficult lines in that creed that we say week after week. Each time we recite the Apostles’ Creed, we say, “I believe in the holy catholic church.” We’ll spend more time on this later, but for today know, that it’s lower-case “c” catholic, which means we’re talking about the church universal not the Roman Catholic Church. The Roman Catholic Church got worried about other languages, and so they mandated that certain parts of the liturgy always be said in Latin. Why? Because even though the Holy Spirit gave the disciples the power to speak in other languages, sometimes other languages make people nervous, especially if they’re trying to stay in control. For example, I used to lead a lawn maintenance crew, and if the guys I was working with started speaking in Spanish, I got worried they were talking about me. Often they were. Likewise, there’s a famous line from the first female governor of Texas, Miriam Ferguson, who did all kinds of wonderful things for her state but is most often remembered for saying, “If English was good enough for Jesus, it’s good enough for Texas school children.” We get worried about other languages, yet the Holy Spirit pushed the disciples out into the world and gave them the ability to speak in all the languages of the world. What does that say about God? God is powerful, and our God wants all people to hear the Gospel spoken in the same language that they heard their mothers speak when they were but babies in her arms. On Pentecost, the Gospel was heard in the mother tongue of all God’s people. That’s a beautiful thing, but let me get back to our church parking lot. I really was inspired by our church parking lot last week. Let me tell you what else happened out there. Not only did I nearly sell a trailer. I also cleaned up yard signs from the midterm election. One of our neighbor churches is Maple Avenue United Methodist Church. I vote there. Maybe you vote there, too. Because our big church parking lot is right across from a place people vote, last week, I caught two sweet little old ladies putting campaign signs on our church property. They looked like they felt guilty about it. They didn’t have our permission to do it, but they did it anyway, and it became my duty to pick up after them because many Presbyterians don’t like the idea of our church participating in political elections. I carried at least 30-yard signs and put them in our dumpster because you can’t campaign on our church property. Why, then, do people do it? I believe it’s because with each election cycle, it feels a little more like the fate of our nation hangs in the balance. Each election cycle, Christians get a little more involved. Each year, there are a few more pastors become politicians. Each year, Christian Nationalism gets a little less Christian. Each meeting of the Cobb County Commission gets a little more heated. Last week on my ballot was whether the Cobb County School Board meetings should be televised. Isn’t there something better for us all to watch? Yet even the school board has become infected by a toxic political culture. I believe people have put too much faith in politics and not enough faith in God, so while I’m thankful to serve the Lord in a church engaged and mindful of current events and political realities, I feel obligated to say that the future of our world does not rest in the balance of any election. It never has and it never will. Remember with me that God is at work in our world, and the Spirit of Pentecost still blows, bringing all God’s people together in a common cause for a common purpose, less concerned with winning a partisan election and more concerned with making sure that all God’s people hear the Good News of Jesus Christ regardless of where they’re from or which language they speak. Did you hear that line from our first Scripture lesson? Moses said, “Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets.” Not politicians. Not pundits. Not critics. But prophets, proclaiming the truth that God is at work in our world bringing together nations, healing division, and leading people into a future brighter than all our yesterdays. Remember with me that the end of segregation didn’t start with Lyndon Johnson. He’s just the one who signed the legislation. The push, the transformation, the change, came from the prophet who inspired the people with the power of a dream. Remember with me that apartheid was outlawed by the politicians, but the push to end it came from the people led by a bishop named Desmond Tutu. Remember with me what the Bible says: “If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, pray, seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” Don’t just quote that verse from 2nd Chronicles. Live it. Believe it. The world changes, not with elections or legislation, but when God’s people step out in faith and are pushed by the Spirit to speak out from the mountain tops. That’s what we remember today on Pentecost Sunday: God is at work, and God is concerned with all people. Dare to be a prophet declaring this truth. Dare to testify to the reality that God is in control. When you face the anxiety of this present evil age, choose faith, choose hope, choose love. Amen.

Looking Up Towards Heaven, a sermon based on Acts 1: 1-11, preached on Ascension Sunday, May 17, 2026

This second Scripture lesson from the books of Acts ends with the disciples of Jesus “gazing up towards heaven.” Gazing was not what Jesus had asked them to do, but that’s what they were doing because Jesus had just issued an impossible task, and then He didn’t stick around to help them do it. Instead, He ascended into Heaven. “You will be my witnesses to the ends of the earth,” He said, and then His body was lifted up into the sky and a cloud took Him from their sight. Two men wandered towards them moments or hours later to find them still, “gazing up towards heaven.” If Jesus gave them the assignment, why hadn’t they gotten started? Why were they there, just staring off? My wife, Sara, often wonders the same thing. Sometimes, she finds me just staring off into space, especially after she’s asked me to do something that I’m not excited to get started doing. She’ll ask me to vacuum the house or to change the sheets on the bed. Because these are things I don’t want to do, after enlisting me in home cleaning, she’ll sometimes find me moments later not springing into action but staring off into space. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it’s easier to stare off than it is to get started. Now, if that’s the case with me and common household chores, how much “gazing up towards heaven,” would I have to do before getting started on preaching the Gospel to the ends of the earth? Jesus did two incredible things in our second Scripture lesson. First, He gave to His disciples an assignment that surely seemed impossible; then, He miraculously ascended into Heaven, leaving the bewildered disciples gazing up towards Heaven, unsure of where to even start in accomplishing their mission. This moment in the Bible reminds me of the day my mom dropped me off at college. Now, you know this, many of you from experience, that the major life transitions of graduations and watching kids go off into the workforce, armed forces, or higher education are emotional times for those parents who are fortunate enough to be there and to see it happen. Last week, our church hosted three tear-soaked graduations. On Wednesday night, the 5th graders in our afterschool program, Club 3:30, graduated and gave speeches, and their parents cried. Then, on Thursday morning, was the preschool graduation where the parents cried, and on Friday, was our kindergarten graduation, and their parents cried as well, so did their teachers. One of their teachers was crying before the ceremony even started. At all three events, I was honored to give the opening prayer and to see the tears in the eyes of all those parents at this milestone in their child’s lives. At the preschool graduation on Thursday, one mother walked down the aisle to her seat carrying a box of Kleenex, and before the welcome and introductions were even over, she had gone through half the box. I imagine that the flood of tears grows deeper with each step of the journey. From preschool to kindergarten and then from 5th grade to high school, I imagine that with each graduation, the parents cry a little harder, so when my mother dropped me off at college, this is what happened. When we reached my freshman dorm at Presbyterian College, kind upperclassmen helped unload our car and move my stuff into my first dorm room, where we met my roommate. My mom talked with his parents, explaining to them that my dad had to stay home with my little sister and brother. Then, we strolled to lunch in the dining hall and attended some orientation meetings about how to register for classes and make tuition payments. I’m not actually sure what those meetings were about because I wasn’t paying very much attention. My mom was there, why would I need to listen? Then we made it to the BBQ dinner under the live oaks by the administration building, and my mom, without finishing her plate said to me, “I’m about to start crying, so I’m just going to go. I love you so much,” then she hugged me and left. What did I do next? I watched as she walk to her car. As she drove off, I stared at the place where her minivan had been, wondering what to do. She had to push me to apply to college, she bought me my dorm room linens, she sat through the financial aid meetings while I dozed off, she was there doing almost everything while I did next to nothing. It was only as she left that I realized, now it’s up to me. Back to our second Scripture lesson: Now it’s up to the disciples. Jesus gave them their assignment: “Be my witnesses. Take the message to the ends of the earth,” then He left them to it. Had He stayed, they would have sat back waiting for Him to do it for them. Parents, you know that’s the truth. If you know anything about the book of Acts, then you know that it is our account of what the disciples did, how they built the Church of Jesus Christ, how they were His witnesses throughout the Roman Empire and beyond, but what must happen at the very beginning of the book in the first 11 verses? Jesus must leave so that the disciples will act, and, therefore, our second Scripture lesson describes one of those crucial transitions in life. The task is assigned, but the disciple must be left to complete the assignment. The child leaves the nest, but the mother bird must leave him so that he learns to fly. There is a calling on every person’s life, but some are still starting off into space, afraid to get started. We are all called by God to do incredible things, we are all equipped by the Holy Spirit to do the impossible, but so long as Jesus will do it for us, so long as Mama will do it for me, so long as the adults are in the room, the children never have to grow up. That’s why the Boy Scouts of America used to tell the dads to stay out of the way. Years ago, I was a chaperone with my brother’s Boy Scout troop. If you look on the wall of Eagle Scouts from our own Troop 252, you’ll see my brother’s name on a plaque. His Eagle Scout project was making picnic tables out by the railroad tracks. A more recent Eagle Scout project just replaced the ones he built years ago. I never made it that far in Scouts, but I was so proud when my brother did, and I was excited when, at the age of 22, I was asked by my father to go with my brother to the border of Minnesota and Canada to canoe with him and his troop for this high adventure trip through the wilderness. My dad had just had heart surgery, so he couldn’t go. The trip was paid for, and I was invited to fill his slot. It was a wonderful experience for me to see just what my little brother could do, but one father was always jumping in to help his son do everything. You see, he didn’t want his son to make a mistake. He wanted to help, and he helped so much and so often that his son never had the opportunity to discover just what he could do on his own. On the last full day of that trip, our group was hiking next to a rushing stream with waterfalls. By this time, we were close to civilization, so youth groups and families were all along this stream, some of them playing in the water, treating the waterfalls like waterslides. I remember the scream of one leader who saw a member of her group get caught in the hydraulic at the base of the waterfall. The cycle of that water trapped a girl in its current, so the leader screamed for help. Our group’s guide jumped into action. He tied a rope around his waist, handed me the other end, and repelled into the rapids. Now, I want you to know something, no one knows how strong he is until he’s holding a rope with a human being tied to the other end repelling into the fierce current of a waterfall. I remember the feeling of the rope cutting into my arm. I remember pushing with every muscle in my legs to help our group leader get back to safety. I learned in that moment that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, but not everyone gets to learn that lesson because not everyone ever has the chance or takes the chance. Mr. Rogers is famous for saying, “When bad things happen, look for the helpers,” but at some point, we are called to be the helpers. At some point, it is up to us to answer the call. When I attended the Club 3:30 graduation, I heard the speeches of those 5th graders who will move to middle school and out of our afterschool program. One of the 5th grade graduates asked the other 5th graders to join her at the front of the room at the end of her speech. Then, she asked the principal of her elementary school to come forward, and then her parents, and together, they presented Mary Groves, Director of the program, during her last Club 3:30 graduation, with two dozen roses because for the past 30 years, Mary Groves has been the helper, stepping forward to make a difference. She answered the call. She has been the one to change generations of children’s lives, and she’s led our church in taking part in that same movement, but we must take that risk of trying. We must be willing to try and to fail. We can’t be so afraid of the doing that we just stare off into space. Another who stepped forward last week was Lisa Stokes. At our kindergarten graduation, she led the effort to decorate for the reception. I couldn’t believe what she’d done. Every member of our kindergarten graduating class this year is a boy. They’re all boys. Not a girl in the class, and so at some point during the year, the moms of those boys started talking about how this kindergarten class was their sons’ first fraternity. Playing on that theme, Lisa Stokes decorated the graduation reception with Greek letters, a paddle on every table, and a fraternity composite with each member of the class. Under the picture of one their teachers was the title “Fraternity Sweetheart.” You see, Lisa stepped forward. She made a difference, which requires taking a risk, but it’s a risk that I hope and pray every member of the high school graduating class will take. I don’t want to hear about how they sat in their dorm rooms playing video games. I don’t want to hear about how they never made a mistake and never took a risk. I don’t want to hear about how they stayed the same, for the world will not get better if we stay the same. We must learn and grow and step out in faith, trusting the power of the Holy Spirit, Who is always at work in our lives. I received an email last week from a Methodist. I was honored to receive this email from a man who’s not a member of our church, but who knows about our church. That’s why he was writing. This is what he said: “These days, it seems like every vital/spiritual-related activity around this town meets or emanates from First Presbyterian Church.” Who said that? A methodist. Why did he say it? Because you’re stepping out in faith, and God is at work in you. Don’t get caught looking up towards heaven. Step out in faith with the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Audience of One, a sermon based on John 14: 15-21, preached on May 10, 2026

Last Thursday was the National Day of Prayer, and one of the largest prayer gatherings in the country on the national day of prayer is the Cobb County National Day of Prayer Breakfast, so I woke up last Thursday morning at 4:30 AM, and I needed to get up early, although not that early. I set my alarm for 5:30. That would have given me plenty of time to get ready, but I woke up at 4:30 because I was too excited to stay in bed any longer. I couldn’t wait to get to that breakfast. Not only does the prayer breakfast feature scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, and blueberry muffins with orange juice and hot coffee, but it’s all that with 900 fellow residents of Cobb County, making the prayer breakfast a significant event. Every year at this breakfast, I’m honored to be invited to sit at the table of one of the major sponsors, prime seating at this 900-person event, because church members Judge Jim Bodiford and Nancy Bodiford invite me to sit with them. We were there in the middle of the grand ballroom, up close to all the movers and shakers in our community: judges, business executives, and politicians. I saw Charlie Bethel, an old friend of our church, who used to chaperone our Mexico mission trips when I was in high school. He’s now running to defend his seat on the Georgia Supreme Court. Also there was Chief Deputy Rhonda Anderson, who runs the jail and has been instrumental in our partnership there and with her church, Turner Chapel AME. Our table was next to Daniel White’s table. Next to Daniel White’s table was the Tip Top Poultry table, whose chaplain I had lunch with last week. Walking around were people I love to see, but so rarely get to see all in one place, and so I woke up last Thursday morning excited to eat a good breakfast at a prominent table surrounded by important people. I put on my best suit, a freshly pressed white shirt, and a tie my wife, Sara, just bought me, but as I looked in the mirror last Thursday morning, I looked myself in the mirror to ask, “Who am I trying to impress?” Do you hear what I’m saying? Last Thursday morning, I woke up excited to go to an important event. An event that matters in our community. But why does it matter? Why is it important? For whom was I getting dressed up? I ask these questions because our motivation matters. If you are motivated to please the world, if you wake up eager to impress the powers that be, then you’ll feel good when you receive their approval and you’ll feel bad when you don’t, but bow before the King of Kings and He will lift you up every time. Put your hope in Jesus and never be disappointed. Trust in the Lord, and He will put you under His wings but desperately go seeking the approval of people and put yourself in a dangerous position. I have a good friend named Elizabeth Manning. She grew up in this church with me. In 1998, we were selected by our peers as the two wittiest members of our graduating class at Marietta High School. The other day we were having coffee, and she said to me, “I’ve learned that if you’re OK with yourself, every place is safe, and until you’re OK with yourself, no place is safe.” Are you OK with yourself? Do you know who you are? Whose approval are you seeking? Jesus said, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments,” and I ask you to consider this phrase from our Gospel lesson because we are all being pulled in different directions. We are all being asked to conform to varying circumstances, but if you desire the Lord’s approval then “Love the Lord your God, love yourself, love your neighbor.” “They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.” Those are words from the lips of Jesus. Do them and please Him but go out into this world seeking approval from people and live like a ship without an anchor, tossed to and fro by the wind, for public approval is fickle. That’s why I once asked County Commissioner Keli Gambrill how she does it. Bob and Keli are always up in the balcony at the 8:30 service. Their worship attendance is outstanding, though she’s busy being one of five members of the Cobb County Commission. As a member of the commission, she bears the responsibility of representing her neighbors, some of whom she is always disappointing. Because Cobb County is nearly greater in population than the entire state of South Dakota, Keli is always disappointing somebody, so I once asked her how she deals with the responsibility of representing so many people with so many different opinions, and she said, “I serve the audience of one.” Now, I didn’t know exactly what that meant until she shared with me a song that inspires her. The song goes like this: It’s such a strong temptation to live for man’s applause. But I don’t want to buy into that lie because I know it’s not a worthy cause. I’ll be content to serve an audience of one. Only his approval counts when all is said and done. And this is my prayer when my race is won. I want to hear well done from the audience of one. My friends, public opinion rises and falls; therefore, do what is right, love justice, love your neighbor, and please the Lord, without seeking the endorsement of the wrong people. They say, the right endorsement can get you elected, but how much does that endorsement cost? I remember being 8 years old and the new kid in school. Because I always had the good kind of Little Debbie snacks in my lunch box, everyone wanted to trade with me, yet I’d accept trades for lesser snacks because I wanted someone to be my friend. I thought that was something you grew out of, but look at politics these days and what people are going along with to fit in. Or think with me about what it’s like to be a mom. Wanting to be liked, and to fit in, and to feel like a good mom is a dangerous business. Now, to look like a good dad, the stakes are low. Dad stops by the grocery store and drops off a pack of cupcakes to his daughter’s second grade class, and the world will line up for a parade. Have you seen it happen? I’ve lived it, and it’s wonderful. Mom drops off that same pack of store-bought cupcakes, and do you know what she hears? “So you didn’t have time to bake?” It’s rough out there for moms, so don’t be the kind of mom who is looking for approval in all the wrong places. Don’t look for affirmation on Instagram. Don’t look for approval from the popular moms who seem to have it all together (They don’t.). Remember that comparison is the thief of joy and pay attention to whose approval you are seeking, for even some who call themselves Christians regularly turn their backs on the children of God because they worry more about their reputations than their witness. They work for purity but forget about justice. They want to make a good showing in the flesh, so they pray at the right time, and they look like the right kind of person, but if they don’t sound like Jesus and if they don’t love like Jesus, then they don’t follow Jesus. My friends, be careful about trying to be accepted by the group, or risk losing the approval of the only One who matters. Don’t get swept up in the storm of hatred raging in our nation. Make Jesus proud by loving yourself. By loving somebody. By caring about the downtrodden. By speaking up for the weak. By living in such a way that you make your mama proud. On Mother’s Day, I think about a great video of a basketball player at a press conference. This guy is a big deal NBA superstar. He’s sitting at the press table with all those microphones in front of him. Cameras are flashing. Reporters are asking their questions. Everyone wants to hear what he has to say. This is his moment to shine and to impress the whole world, but as he’s answering questions, his phone rings and he sees that it’s his mama calling, so he picks up. I love that video. Pick up the phone when the people who love you call even though you’re busy working because your job can’t love you back. Consider who you’re aspiring to be, who you’re trying to impress, and who will be there for you when everything falls apart. The Rev. Meri Kate Marcum once preached a sermon in which she told this story: A young girl was just starting school and was required to go through something called “kindergarten screening.” The teachers asked her to count to 20, recite her ABC’s, identify shapes and colors, and even asked her to skip down the hallway. Then came the “life situation questions,” like “What do you do when you go outside, but it’s raining?” She answered, “You get a raincoat or an umbrella.” Then the teacher asked, “What do you do when you want to go into a room, but it’s dark.” Without missing a beat, this little girl said, “You hold someone’s hand.” Whose hand will always be there for you to hold? Who has promised that He will not leave nor will He forsake you? Who will not leave us orphaned? Who tells us again and again, “Be not afraid for I am with you”? My friends, there is not a mortal alive on this earth who can do for you what Jesus can, so don’t go trying too hard to impress people who will love you one minute and leave you the next. Get out of the bed and stand on the reality that Christ has died for you and make Him proud. If you love Him, keep His commandments. Amen.

Doubt the Wizard. Trust the Savior. A sermon based on John 20: 19-31, preached on April 12, 2026

It takes courage to ask questions. It’s not easy to confess that you don’t know or can’t believe. It requires humility to admit that you’re lost. That’s why I admire the disciple Thomas, and that’s why I love the map feature on my iPhone. You know, iPhones, Androids, and all the other smart phones are prevalent enough now that there may be younger members of our congregation who can’t even imagine a world without easy-to-follow and up-to-the-minute driving directions, so let me try to describe it to you. When I was in my very first church as a seminary intern, an older member of the congregation invited me to lunch at a barbeque restaurant near the state capital. Wood’s Chapel BBQ, it’s called. I hadn’t been there before, so she gave me directions over the phone, which I wrote down on a piece of paper. She told me to, “drive towards the state capital and to take a left at the building… 40 years ago it was the records building,” she said. “I don’t know what it is now, but at the building that used to be the records building, you should take a left.” Can you imagine? Or do you remember? Today, all we have to do is type in Wood’s Chapel BBQ and off we go, turn by turn instructions with traffic updates right on our phone, but back then, if you got lost out in the middle of nowhere, you’d find a gas station, walk in, say to the person at the register, “Can you tell me how to get back to the interstate?” If you were far enough off the beaten trail, you’d often hear them say, “Well, you aren’t from around here, are you?” It was humiliating, and so proud men just wouldn’t do it. Now we don’t have to, and yet I see a problem developing in our culture because of such convenient access to directions. Now that we don’t have to ask for directions, it’s possible to get out of the spiritual practice of humbly admitting that we don’t know where we are. When you’re feeling lost or confused, are there people in your life to whom you feel comfortable asking questions? Is there someone in your life to who, you know that you could ask just about anything? Having a person to ask these kinds of questions to is important because your phone can’t tell you everything, so being in the habit of admitting what you don’t know is a skill worth having. That’s why I don’t like calling him Doubting Thomas. We call him Doubting Thomas as though doubting were a bad thing, when I assure you the worse thing is being lost while too proud to ask for help. For example, years ago, I was a student at Marietta High School. I was in 9th grade and enrolled in Spanish 1. After we got past counting to 10 in Spanish, I was completely lost. I had no idea how to conjugate verbs. I can barely do that in English, and so I was struggling. However, I never told my teacher I was struggling. I never asked her or anyone else for help. I was too proud to raise my hand to ask questions. I never admitted that I didn’t know, and so at the end of the semester, I failed Spanish. Now as bad as that was, it’s not nearly as bad as failing Christianity, and as angry as my parents were that I had failed Spanish, how much angrier would Christ have been if Thomas didn’t believe but never confessed his doubt? When Jesus heard that Thomas said, “If I don’t touch the wounds I will not believe,” was Jesus angry? Was Jesus disappointed? Was Jesus ashamed that this disciple had questions? No, and neither was my teacher, Señora Smitherman, the second time I enrolled in Spanish 1. When I was in her class, unlike the first time I took Spanish, anytime I had a question, I raised my hand. At any moment when I felt lost, I let her know. At the end of the semester, Señora Smitherman pointed me out and said, “I want you all to be like Joe Evans, who is never afraid of asking a question because that’s the only way you’ll ever learn.” That’s the truth, for learning requires us to admit what we don’t know. The journey of life and the journey of faith requires us to ask for directions, but be wise about whom you ask. We all must be careful about asking for spiritual direction from our iPhones because, while AI might have a brain, it doesn’t have a heart, and while social media is good for all kinds of things, it’s not very good at telling the truth. Last week, we were on vacation, and one of the days we were on vacation, our daughter Cece had a fever. Because she was sick, we spent one whole afternoon in our Airbnb watching episodes of American Idol. When I think back on it, that might have been my favorite day of the trip, but that’s not the day that anyone posted about on Instagram. Of course it’s not. When people post on social media, no one has a fever. Everyone is smiling. The family is not arguing but laughing together. The sunset is perfect. Not a hair is out of place. In other words, social media often reminds me of the Wizard in The Wizard of Oz. Do you remember the Wizard? Last week, we were on a plane, and so I watched the new Wicked movie. The plot of Wicked is a play on The Wizard of Oz, but with a lot more singing, and a much greater focus on the Wizard, who you may remember from the original story is just a little man behind a curtain who figured out how to manipulate a whole bunch of people using smoke and mirrors, That’s until Toto pulls back the curtain to reveal that the Wizard is just a man. Until that point, he seems to have all the answers, so Dorothy and her friends seek him out. They do what he says to get what they want. Dorothy wants to go home, the Tin Man wants a heart, the Cowardly Lion wants courage, and the Scarecrow wants a brain. Do you remember all that? The Wizard promises, “I’ll give you all what you’re wishing for if you’ll destroy the Wicked Witch of the West,” but the Tin Man goes with Dorothy on this whole journey because he loves her, which means he already had a heart. The Cowardly Lion leads the way because he already had courage. He just lacked the confidence to see it, and the Scarecrow figures out that water will destroy the witch because he already had a brain. You see, they already had what they needed, but the Wizard didn’t help them to see that because the Wizard couldn’t give them something that he didn’t have himself, so I ask you to be careful about seeking out answers from people who won’t let you see behind the curtain. The Wizard hides behind a curtain while the Savior reveals to us His wounds. My friends, we can trust Jesus with our doubts. We can trust Him with our fears. We can trust Jesus with our questions and our worries. We can trust Jesus with our insecurities and our trepidation, but go on social media to see a bunch of perfect pictures of perfect vacations when you’re a little too bored and a little too insecure, and the Wizard will have you right where he wants you, in a position to work for things that the Lord hands out for free. I don’t know how often it’s happened to me that I’ve found myself lost. I don’t just mean lost on the road. I’m talking about lost in life. Wondering what this is all about. Who am I, and what is my purpose? These are not questions that you can just google. If you are looking for answers to life’s greatest questions, only trust those who will reveal to you their wounds. Who have been through the struggle. Who know what it means to face the darkness of the night. The Savior has been down this road that we travel, and He knows the way to salvation. Doubt the Wizard. Trust the Savior. Friends there are too many people who spend their days wondering, “Could he love me if he knew?” Could he love me despite what I’ve done or who I am? Don’t ask questions like that to the wrong person. Only ask the One who loves you so much that He offered you His body and His blood. Do you know Him? Do you trust Him? Do not doubt but believe. Alleluia. Amen.

The Resurrection Will Not be Televised, a sermon based on John 20: 1-18, preached on April 5, 2026

Thanks be to God, for the tomb was empty. Thanks be to God, for Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. Thanks be to God that death has lost its sting. Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning, and so Jesus asked Mary, “Woman, why are you weeping?” Why are you weeping when death has been conquered? Why are you weeping when hope prevails, love never dies, salvation has been secured, and sin has been conquered? If ever there was a day to proclaim the Good News, today is the day, but notice with me this detail at the end of our second Scripture lesson: Mary Magdaline was the one to preach the first Easter sermon. She left the tomb to tell the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” for the miracle of the resurrection had to have a messenger. The story of salvation would not tell itself. Somebody had to tell the story because the resurrection was not televised for all to see. No reporters were present at the tomb that first Easter morning. It happened before sunrise while most were still in bed. No one was expecting it. No one was prepared. Our Gospel lesson ended with Jesus the Christ, risen from the grave, saying to Mary, “Go and tell my brothers.” Go and tell them, Mary, for the other two who saw and believed didn’t tell anybody about it. Did you notice that? Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, saw the empty tomb. They even entered and saw that Jesus had rolled up the garments He had been buried in as though He were folding up His blanket after a nap. Scripture tells us that they both saw and believed, yet after witnessing the miracle of Jesus Christ risen from dead, Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, just went back home not telling anyone about it as though they were history’s first Presbyterians. My favorite Presbyterian joke is, “What do you get when you mix a Jehovah’s Witness and a Presbyterian?” “Someone who knocks on your door but doesn’t say anything.” If you don’t know much about the Presbyterian Church, know this: We are not the denomination who has been preaching out on the Square with a bullhorn in hand. That’s not our style, and condemnation is not our message. Some branches of the Christian Church won’t dance. Others won’t drink. We won’t talk about our faith too much in public, and yet the story of Easter must be told. The resurrection was not televised. The miracle requires a messenger, so Jesus said to Mary Magdalene, “Go and tell my brothers.” Go and celebrate the truth that the Lord has risen. Let the world know that there is victory over the grave. Shake your tambourines. Lift your voices to sing. Shout it out that He is risen. And because He lives, I can face tomorrow! Because He lives, all fear is gone. Because I know He holds the future, And life is worth the living, Just because He lives! My friends, this is obviously good news for all people. This is a story that needs to be told. It’s the kind of good news that no one should keep to himself. Why, then, did those first two disciples go back to their homes without telling anyone about it? Why were those two as quiet as two Baptists in a liquor store? More importantly, why did Jesus have to tell Mary Magdaline, “Go and tell my brothers?” Think about it with me. It’s because to the ears of Rome, to the ears of the Pharisees, to the ears of the powers and principalities who put Him in the tomb, news of His resurrection was news of revolution, insurgence, insurrection, and revolt. The power of God is so rarely televised because the power of God is a threat to the power of evil. Evil people don’t want you to know how fragile their grasp on control is. To spread news of Christ risen from the dead threatened Roman power because, up until this point, death by crucifixion had been 100% effective, and Rome’s violent grip on their empire depended on it staying that way. You see, they knew what we often forget: that an empire built on control and domination is so fragile a thing that the whole deck of cards will fall with just a whisper of the truth. It was the same when freedom came to the enslaved people of the South. President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, effectively outlawing slavery, yet word of slavery’s end didn’t reach the enslaved people of Texas for two years, five months, and 18 days. Juneteenth is the celebration of the day when word of that executive order finally reached Texas. Why did it take so long for that good news to travel? It’s because the power of evil doesn’t want people proclaiming the Good News, but Mary announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord.” Proclaiming such a truth out loud changes things. Really, it changes everything. Days ago, I heard a story about a woman in recovery from drug addiction. At her Narcotics Anonymous meeting, she was to receive her chip for her first year sober, and she invited the officer who arrested her to come to the meeting to give it to her. Because this NA group meets in a small town, that officer was the one who had arrested most of the members of that NA group at one time or another. He had been the one to arrest so many at that meeting that as he was introduced to the group, he said, “I see an awful lot of familiar faces.” Yet when he was handed the 1-year sobriety chip and handed that chip to the woman whom he had arrested on the lowest day of her life, with tears in his eyes, he said to her and anyone else listening, “How thankful I am to see you on the other side.” My friends, everyone must remember that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Everyone needs to hear that miracles still happen. Everyone who feels stuck needs to know that change has come. Everyone who feels like she is fighting a losing battle against sin needs to hear that He has won the battle for you. It’s not your job to fight that battle. It’s your job to share the news that He has won! In the dark days of Apartheid in South Africa, the great Archbishop Desmond Tutu was all the time preaching the Gospel of Resurrection, assuring his congregation that God would have the final word and not the apartheid government, and so the apartheid government would storm his church from time to time. Uniformed and armed men would barge into the service, yet the Archbishop always welcomed them into his church warmly, saying, “Friends, I’m so glad you’ve come over to the winning side.” My friends, look around. Notice miracles and dare to tell someone about it. The resurrection was not televised then, and the miracles of God so rarely are. Still, people need to hear about good things. Someone you know needs the reminder that Rome will fall. Death has lost its sting. Hope is never lost, for Christ is risen. A lady walked into our Great Hall during our community Holy Week meals last week and said, “I think this is what heaven will look like.” Another from out of town was so affected by our community and the love that you shared with her that she’s thinking about moving out of John’s Creek to come to Marietta. Who would blame her? We live in a world of darkness and despair, yet the emperor’s kingdom will crumble with the sound of your voice: Say it with me, “He is risen.” He is risen, indeed. Your sin does not define you, but His victory does. Hope lives. Love lives. The darkness cannot put out the Light. Halleluia. Amen.

You Will Never Wash My Feet, a sermon based on John 13: 1-8 preached on April 2, 2026

This week has been an important week. It’s already been a meaningful week. You may know that on Monday at 11:30 in this Sanctuary, the Rev. Dr. Tar-U-Way Bright of Turner Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church preached from this pulpit. Then on Tuesday, it was Eric Beckham of Zion Baptist. Yesterday, the Rev. Brandon Owen of First Baptist preached. Earlier today, it was the Rev. Dr. Harden Hopper III of First United Methodist Church. Each sermon was inspirational. Each lunch, which followed, was delicious. Each day, a crowd of around 200 people attended. Each year that we host these community worship services, the crowds get bigger and there’s more interaction between the members of different churches, but in addition to all these good things, only one of the pastors who preached has a full head of hair. Three have shiny bald heads. And it made me feel so much better. Seeing the beautiful bald heads of those pastors made me feel better about my own receding and retreating hairline. I started to think that if every balding man could see how good those pastors were looking, Rogaine would go out of business. This brings me to my point: You must accept the truth that you are God’s beloved. Peter had to allow the Savior to wash his feet, for His commandment, “Love each other. As I have loved you so you must love one another,” that command, that mandate hinges on what Jesus did on the night He was betrayed. Our ability to love one another hinges on the statement that precedes the command: “As I have loved you,” so you must love one another. Do you believe that He loves you? It’s not easy to love or to accept yourself. If it were easy, people wouldn’t spend so much money covering up how they really look. So much of our economy is built on insecurity. Do you know what I mean by that? How many gyms would close if the members of those gyms woke up each morning, looked in the mirror, and said to themselves, “I am looking good today?” People who look in the mirror and see flaws and folds and wrinkles and lines sign up for gym memberships, pay to have their hair dyed and their faces lifted, but those people who look at themselves in the mirror and say to themselves, “I am looking good” are immune to the commercials. They have the antidote to the insecurity that fuels so much of the beauty product industry. So much of our economy is built on people who look in the mirror and don’t like what they see, yet on the sixth day, God created humankind. Genesis chapter 1 tells us that it was in His image that God created woman and man, and when God saw everything that He had made, indeed, it wasn’t just good. It was very good. That’s what the Bible says. When God created light, it was good. When God created land and ocean, it was good. But when God created humankind, it was very good. Know then that in the eyes of God, you are more majestic than the mountains He created, for He said the mountains were good, but only when He saw you did He say, “very good”. You are more precious than the stars of the sky. More beautiful than the ocean waves. Not for anything other than for you did He sacrifice himself. My friends, you are so worthy of love that Jesus knelt at the feet of Simon Peter, but Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Why not? Maybe you know why Peter wouldn’t let Him. There is an insecurity that creeps inside all our hearts. There is a voice that speaks to us when we are all alone. For some reason, that voice speaks up in middle school, and it keeps on talking, making us self-conscious. The insecurity just stays right with us. I used to think that people grew out of it, but I haven’t. People have started saying to me, “You look just like my proctologist, or my rabbi.” I’ll ask them to show me a picture, and basically, to an awful lot of people, I look a lot like the last bald, white dude they saw. Now, that kind of thing makes me self-conscious. It makes me want to buy a toupée or put on a hat, but my friends, we must fight that kind of insecurity, we must doubt the voice of the evil one, for the Word of God incarnate came not to shame or condemn the world, but to save it; not to make you self-conscious, but to wash your feet. To love you with an undying love. You must allow Him to wash your feet, for those who cannot accept the love of God, seek it out elsewhere. Our world feeds on those who are desperate for love and acceptance. I remember attending a fundraiser for the Boys and Girls Club of Tennessee. When we lived there, I’d be invited to these things. Because I was a pastor at an important church, they wanted me there, but I didn’t have any money to contribute, so it was always a little awkward to go to those things. After giving to the church, there just wasn’t much left, so I always felt awkward at those fundraisers because I’d go, but I couldn’t pledge anything. I couldn’t donate much. When they’d give the sales pitch and distribute the pledge cards, I’d excuse myself to the restroom or something, but at the Boys and Girls Club fundraiser, I’ll always remember this moment when the speaker said: I want you to know how important this club is. It’s important because the street will take these children. If they don’t have the Boys and Girls Club, they’ll be left to the street, and the street will take them. If they don’t find direction from us, who will tell them which way to go? If they don’t find acceptance at our club, they’ll find acceptance from gangs. If we don’t feed them, who will offer them food and what will they want in return? It was the most effective fundraising pitch I’d ever heard, and so I made contribution. The check may have bounced, but I had to give something because I knew the man was right. Those who can’t accept themselves go looking for acceptance. Those who don’t feel beautiful will pay top dollar until they do, and so much of our economy is built on insecurity, but I want you to know that Jesus commanded His disciples to “love one another” only after He convinced them that by Him they were loved. How much did He love them? He washed their feet. Now, you may have an image in your mind of what it was like for Jesus to wash the feet of His disciples. It’s possible that the image you have in your mind is based on the state of your neighbor’s feet, or when you think of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet, you imagine having to wash a stranger’s feet. My wife, Sara’s, favorite place to shop is Goodwill. She finds all kinds of good stuff at Goodwill, and the day before yesterday, she was so excited because she found me some fancy flip flops that retail new for $90-100. These were not new, though. Someone else’s foot juice was all over them. The gunk from between a stranger’s toes had infected the thong of those flip flops, so I didn’t want them. I didn’t want my feet touching where someone else’s feet had been. It’s not that my feet are perfumed and manicured, so I ask the same question about my feet: What would it have been like for Jesus to wash my feet or your feet? Maybe you’re thinking, who would want to bathe some feet like mine with blisters, bunions, and yellow toenails? Yet remember with me that this is God we’re talking about and not you. What did the Creator God incarnate in Jesus Christ see when He held the feet of those disciples in His hand? What was it like? How did Jesus feel? The closest we can get to imagining how Jesus felt to cradle the disciples’ feet in His hands is if we can remember washing our own baby in the sink. Have you ever bathed a baby? Have you ever put a baby in a sink full of soapy water? Have you ever taken a baby’s fat little foot in your hand, with toes so cute you wanted to take a picture of them to hang on your wall? Jesus washed His disciples’ feet, and it wasn’t any different. The Creator of us all took those feet in His hands, and He said the same words He said in the beginning, “it wasn’t just good, it was very good.” Peter had to let Him because Peter wouldn’t have made it through the rest of his trial without knowing that he was loved. No one makes it through this life whole and complete without the conviction that she is worthy of love. Only those who know that they are worthy of love trust in forgiveness. Only those who know they are worthy of acceptance give people the chance to accept them. My friends, I want you to know that after Peter betrayed Jesus, the only reason he had the courage to seek Jesus out again, pleading for forgiveness, is because Jesus had washed his feet, treated even his feet as precious, and so convinced Peter that the love of His Father in Heaven was something like that of his mother on earth who had held his feet in her hands and kissed them. It’s hard to return home if you don’t trust the love of the father. It’s impossible to proclaim the Gospel that you’ve never allowed yourself to feel. You can’t go on believing in grace unless you’ve experienced it. Before you go paying for some laser treatment or beauty product, know that there is nothing more attractive than confidence, and it is easiest to love those who love themselves. Do you believe it? Would you allow Him to wash your feet? We say it to babies all the time when they’re baptized. We all know that a baby is loved in the sight of God. We all want to wash that baby’s feet. Why would it be any different with you or with me who are and will always be God’s children? Would you let Him wash your feet? My friends, you can’t very well love your neighbor as yourself if you don’t love yourself. You can’t very well love each other unless you know how much He loves you. That was His commandment. That’s His mandate: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. You can only fulfill this mandate, this command, if you know He loves you, so to convince you and assure you, He not only washed the disciples’ feet, but He also prepared them dinner. He took the bread, and He broke it, saying, “This is my body,” broken for you. Then He took the cup, saying, “This cup is poured out of my blood for the forgiveness of sins.” Why would you ever doubt such wonderous love? My friends, taste and see that the Lord is good. His steadfast love for you endures forever. Amen.