Is He Your King? A sermon based on Revelation 1: 4B-8, preached on November 24, 2025

A couple months ago, I invited a new pastor in town to lunch. Matt Armstrong is an associate pastor at a neighboring church on Rose Lane. We met here and walked down to Marietta Proper, where it is possible to pay $12.00 for iced tea, but it’s worth it. Before the Rev. Matt Armstrong took his first sip of $12.00 iced tea, he lifted his glass and said, “To the King.” Today is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday of the year before Advent begins. Each year on this date, we acknowledge Him Lord of all, but let us heed the warning in our second Scripture lesson from the book of Revelation. This morning, we read: He is coming with the clouds. Every eye will see him, Even those who pierced him. And on his account, all the tribes of the earth will wail. All the tribes of the earth will what? All the tribes of the earth will wail, Scripture says. Why would they wail and not rejoice? It is because the King of Kings was not their king. Having kneeled before the earthly powers, they were not prepared for His arrival, which sometimes is the case. Think with me about what happens to Prince John at the end of Robin Hood. My tastes are not too refined, so it’s the cartoon version that I’m thinking of. I loved the one with that Bryan Adams song in the soundtrack; however, as we read about the return of King Jesus, I’m thinking of the Disney cartoon version of Robin Hood where Robin Hood is a fox, and the king sitting on the throne sowing injustice and oppression in the land is the false king of England, depicted by Disney as a thumb-sucking lion named Prince John whose head is too small to wear the crown. Do you remember what happens at the end of that movie when the real king, King Richard, a noble lion, returns to England? Our second Scripture lesson is something like that. Here comes the True King of Heaven and earth descending from the clouds to put all things right. In the Disney version, King Richard runs that usurper, Prince John, and all those who bowed before his throne, stealing from the poor and raising taxes ever higher, Sir Hiss, his advisor, and the Sheriff of Nottingham all end up on the chain gang. Our second Scripture lesson is meant to evoke such an image as that one. Descending from the clouds, the True King returns to reign. His rule is defined by justice. His call is to stamp out oppression. He’s more interested in love than in money. He came not to claim status, but to serve the lowly. He takes His throne to put those who abused power in their places. All that is wrong shall be made right. The prison doors will swing open. The hungry will be filled. The widows will be provided for. The orphans shall have an inheritance. The refugees, a home. And those who pierced Him will wail, for they’ll finally get what they deserve, but, wait just a minute and consider with me who it was that pierced Him. One of the finest hymns in our hymnal is number 218. I wish we could sing it every Sunday: Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon thee? ‘Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee. I crucified thee. My friends, this morning I ask you, who is your king? Have you bowed before the throne of Prince John who sucks his thumb, or do you await the return of the true King of Heaven and earth? Sometimes I wonder because Santa sits on the throne, and we take our children to the mall to meet him, and we’re willing to wait in lines for hours upon hours to see him, but when it comes to Sunday school and the opportunity to learn about the King of Kings, is there the same level of dedication? Last Wednesday morning, I was having breakfast with a bunch of pastors and one rabbi. That sounds like the beginning of a joke, right? We were talking about travel baseball and college football, and one pastor said of the members of his congregation, “If they invested in their kid’s religious foundation half as much as they invested in his travel baseball career, our church’s roof could get replaced, and the kid would have a faith to sustain him once he gives up trying to play in the major leagues.” Is He your king? Now, the truth is, I’m not any better. Our daughter Cece was asked to play on a flag football team. She got invited to try out. It was an out-of-district team who wanted her. The coach made a concession just for her. It was a special thing, and I had told so many people about it, at some point my wife, Sara, had to say to me, “Joe, you know it’s not you who got invited to try out, but your daughter?” Friends, I want what’s best for our two girls, but if we believe that what is best is eternal salvation and freedom from this broken world, then let us all look ourselves in the mirror asking ourselves to consider this question: Who is Lord of your life? If you can name the starting lineup for the Georgia Bulldogs but can’t call the names of the twelve disciples, who is your king? If you stretched so far to buy the car of your dreams that you don’t have anything left to put in the offering plate, you can’t claim to be like the Wise Men, who offered the Christ Child gold, frankincense, and myrrh. My friends, why is it that we live in a world where the quarterback for the Georgia Bulldogs drives a Lamborghini, but the Son of God has no place to lay His head? It’s because we live in a broken world with misplaced priorities, and we all end up kneeling before the false kings of this present evil age. Not a one of us is blameless. Not a one. I’m as guilty as you are, and you are as guilty as the one you’re sitting next to, and we really get into trouble when we forget that part. Let me now get down to it: If we blame the one across the aisle, convinced that we’re right and he’s wrong, that she’s the enemy and we’re the heroes, then who is our king? Did the true King not say, “love your neighbor as yourself?” Did He not say, “Bless those who persecute you. Bless and do not curse them?” Did He not say, “Judge not, lest ye be judged yourself?” Who is our king? If the aftermath of the presidential election has us worried about what it’s going to be like at Thanksgiving dinner this year, then who is our king? I was at a Thanksgiving service last Thursday night. Two members of our youth group spoke, Lydia Marcum and John White. They were incredible. We all gathered in Temple Kol Emeth, that synagogue in East Cobb, representatives of more than 30 houses of worship, and we stood and said the pledge of allegiance, “one nation, under God,” all those people representing all the nations of the earth, and my eyes welled up with tears because it was like I was in that Norman Rockwell painting. Do you know the one? Moreover, do you know his Thanksgiving picture? Freedom from Want is the name of it. It’s a full table at Thanksgiving, and Grandma is laying down the turkey while Grandpa is getting ready to carve it. All the family and friends are getting ready to eat. I imagine that they had not all voted for the same candidate for President. I imagine that they don’t always get along so well. That sometimes they argue. That sometimes they judge each other. That sometimes they get so mad at each other that they think about not showing up at the table, but once they’re there, the Spirit reminds them that regardless of what they can’t agree on, Christ is still King, and they find a balm for their hurting souls. May it be so with you on Thursday. Put aside your arguing and break bread together. If you’re preparing for Thanksgiving by sharpening your arguments rather than prepping your pie crust, I call on you to lay down your sword and take up your cross. You don’t need to fight any battle, for the war is already won. The King is coming. On Thursday, I want you to raise your glass with the uncle with whom you can’t get along, and the aunt who made the comment about your weight, and the sister who never returns your phone calls, and Grandpa who never says the right thing, and your mama whose love language is criticism, and your dad you loves you but can’t ever say the words, and Grandma who let everyone know for whom she voted, and along with them all, I want you to toast to the King. Some may say, “Preacher, I’m not giving them that. They’re wrong and I’m right, and I’m not letting them win.” To that righteous indignation, I say, “Is not the battle already won?” Is He not King over Heaven and earth? Indeed, He is, so let us live like it. The King is coming, and He is your King, and He is mine.

The Widow's Faith, a sermon based on Ruth 3 and 4 and Mark 12: 38-44, preached on November 10, 2024

Jesus said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect, and to have the best seats in the synagogues, and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.” I sure am glad He’s not talking about me. But He is. Jesus was teaching His disciples, and as He taught, He said, “If you want to know what faith looks like, don’t look at the guy in the kilt who walks in the grand procession to take his seat up in front of the Great Hall. If you want to know what faith looks like, look over at the widow. Did you see what she just did?” When the poor widow came and put in two small, copper coins, Jesus, as He always did, surprised the disciples by saying, “Look at her, off to the side, the one who just put the two copper coins into the plate. That’s what faith looks like. She’s the miracle. Everyone else is looking at the guy in the kilt, but I want you to see the miracle of the woman who gave to the Lord everything she had.” This is a good lesson for us today, for isn’t it just like the people of God to miss out on the miracle because they’re busy watching the parade? Yet God sees beyond the fanfare to notice the faithful. God loves the humble heart and comes near to hear the prayers of the afflicted; even in the age of kings and princes, our God blessed the lowly. Today is this great celebration of the Scottish roots of the Presbyterian Church. Today we celebrate because long ago in Scotland, they couldn’t. The King of England outlawed the pipes and the tartans. In secret, God’s people would sneak in their plaid, the symbols of their culture and their families, to receive God’s blessing, knowing that God blesses the meek of the earth and can see beyond the fanfare of the powerful. But what about us? What about you? Can you see beyond the fanfare, beyond the preacher in the kilt, to witness the real miracle of God at work in this church? I want you to know that I’m proud to be the Senior Pastor of First Presbyterian Church, but if you want to see God at work in this place, you need to look beyond me to notice the members of this church who live their faith out in the world. I’m talking about women like Sally Benoy. Do you know Sally? Sally was one who maintained our church library. That was a thankless job because while the library was great, ya’ll didn’t use it. The books gathered dust. Still, Sally maintained our church library. She kept it clean. She kept the books in order. Regardless of all that work, not too many people checked any of those books out, so we let the history committee take the room over. The library moved downstairs, and Sally was out of a job. However, she heard that the library at the Cobb County Jail didn’t have any books in it. Since Easter of 2021, we’ve been livestreaming our services in the jail, and since then, our involvement has increased. We’ve provided meals for the jail staff. One of our members, Jeff Knapp, is now a trained chaplain. All the old Bibles from our church’s closets, about 800 of them, have gone over there where they’re being put to good use, and when members of this church heard that the jail library had no books, they wanted to do something about it. Bill and Louise Pardue led a book drive. 3,500 books have been donated. Sally and two other librarians have sorted through those books, organized them by subject, and now, they take requests, so that 500 books are checked out from the jail library each month. 500 books each month. Sally has never been happier, and if you want to know what faith looks like, don’t look at the preacher in the kilt who walked down the center aisle with the bag pipes. Look at her. Look at Doris Faber, who made visits to Presbyterian Village each Sunday for years on end. Look at Marti Miner, who is the chair of the funeral guild, and has only missed three funerals at this church in six years. Consider Laura Powell, whose vision of a Memorial Garden is now a reality. Or Martie Moore, who leads our church in providing a week’s worth of food to over 350 families each week. Think about Mary Groves, who has been leading our afterschool program for years and years. Or Linda Spears, who isn’t a member of this church, and yet she’s here three or four days a week, volunteering, making a difference, and sharing her love. Have you ever noticed the flowers outside our church? Do you know the women who planted them? It started with just one plot maintained by Sue Strauss, who has the fire ant scars on her legs to prove it, then Elizabeth Lisle joined the effort and spread her garden from the front entrance to the corner that’s home to our grease trap. She turned our grease trap into a vegetable garden, and today, because Elizabeth is outside our church watering her garden so often, and because people drive crazy on Church Street, she’s been the first responder for two accidents. When Waze told one young driver to take a right turn onto the railroad tracks, she got stuck, and Elizabeth sat there with that scared young driver until help arrived, and that’s what faith looks like. Look past this preacher in the kilt to consider with me the ministry of the Rev. Denise Beltzner, who has been suffering with a debilitating illness for years now, yet she still ends every email update with the same faithful sentiment: A bit taken back, A tad overwhelmed, Very determined, Extremely thankful, Ever hope-filled. My friends, I walked in here with all the fanfare of a parade, and I loved every second of it because I love the attention, but if you want to know what faith looks like, look past me to see those who serve the Lord without fanfare, who don’t preach faith but live it, for it is better to live one sermon than to preach 500. If you want to see faith, look to the members of this church, not the preacher. Look to the widow who held a baby in her arms. Our first Scripture lesson features a widow named Naomi. Many of you know the story of Naomi and Ruth. They both lost their husbands while living in the land of Moab. Anyone in here know anything about Moab? Not Moab, Utah. Moab in the book of Ruth is the place dreams go to die, and Ruth and Naomi nearly got stuck there, which is about what happened to some members of this church last Wednesday morning. One woke up Wednesday morning, saw the election results, and couldn’t get out of her pajamas. A person can get stuck in Moab. On the other hand, I know that others of you woke up Wednesday morning and felt like you had arrived in the Promised Land. I know that because I have this app on my phone that tells me whom all of you voted for. It’s called Facebook, and because I have Facebook and because many of you have been so vocal, I know how some of you voted, and I also know that those of you who voted one way are sitting right next to those who voted the other way. That’s because we have a church where not everyone votes the same way, and here, we remember that if you woke up on Wednesday morning and felt like you were stuck in Moab, you’re wrong, and if you woke up Wednesday morning and felt like you woke up in the Promised Land, you’re wrong, too, because it’s not a president who will lead us there according to Scripture. It's the Christ Child born in Bethlehem. That’s faith. Naomi had it. She left Moab, encouraged Ruth to marry Boaz, and when Ruth gave birth to a child and Naomi held that baby in her arms, she was holding the grandfather of King David and the ancestor of Jesus Christ Himself. My friends, I’ve been ready for this election to be over for like eight years now because these days, election cycles bring out the very worst in us, but this church brings out the very best. Whether you woke up on Wednesday morning happy or sad, don’t get so tied up in the results that you miss the miracle you are surrounded by. This church is a miracle, filled with faithful people who don’t vote the same way, and if we can sing together, then our nation can remember how to sing together, too. If we can love each other, then we can teach our nation how to love each other. If we follow the Christ Child, live the faith, making a difference in ways that are not always covered on the evening news, then the light will shine forth from this place. And that kind of faith, that kind of hope, that kind of love will change the world. Halleluia. Amen.

Our Help and Our Hope, a sermon based on Psalm 121 and Revelation 21: 1-6a, preached on November 3, 2024

Our first Scripture lesson began with a question. Verse 1 of Psalm 121 reads: I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where will my help come? It’s not a statement. It’s a question. “From where will my help come?” In the King James Version that many grew up hearing, it’s different. The King James Version reads, “I lift up my eyes to the hills, from whence commeth my help.” That translation has been corrected because it wasn’t in the original scrolls written thousands of years ago, and the correction makes more sense anyway because our help doesn’t come from the hills. Right? Where does our help come from? Our help comes from the Lord. That’s what the Psalm says. As Christians, we all know (in our heads) that to be true, but do we know (in our hearts) that to be true? On this All Saints’ Sunday, when we remember again our hope for eternal life in the Lord Jesus Christ and the promise that those goodbyes we’ve said were not farewells but “See you later on that Golden Shore,” let us also remember that no matter what happens on Election Day, our help and our hope is the Lord who made Heaven and earth. You know that in your head already. But do you know that in your heart? Sometimes I forget it because I listen to the news too much, and I feel the anxiety too much. Anxiety is contagious, and it spreads through our phones. We read articles written by people who tell us that the future hangs in the balance, and we get worked up and worried. That’s what happens to us. That’s what has been happening to me anyway. Then, I turn my attention to the candidates, who tell me that the future will be secure if I just put my hope in them and help them make it to office, but let us go back to our first Scripture lesson: I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where will my help come? From the hills? From the candidate? Or from the One who made Heaven and earth? My wife, Sara, and I have been watching this TV show called, “Nobody Wants This.” It’s on Netflix. We can’t watch the evening news, so we watch “Nobody Wants This.” It’s about a Rabbi who started dating a blond who has no religious convictions, and because she’s not Jewish and he’s the Rabbi, nobody wants this. Not his family. Not his congregation. Especially not his mother. There was a time when Presbyterians were like this, too. When a Presbyterian married a Methodist or, heaven forbid, a Catholic, it was a big deal. That happens with religion. In this country, it also happened all the time with race. Up until 1972, it was illegal for a white person and a black person to marry in the state of Georgia. Up until 1972. Thanks be to God, things have changed, but if you look it up, according to the institute of family studies, only 4% of marriages are between Democrats and Republicans. 4%. What’s going on here? My friends, on this All Saints’ Sunday, I’m thinking back to how many times I’ve stood at the grave to read our second Scripture lesson from the book of Revelation: Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth… I was reading those words in the old South, still scarred by the days of segregation. Back in Columbia, Tennessee, I did so many funerals at the old Rose Hill Cemetery. A place like Rose Hill Cemetery, with old trees on the side of a hill, is a good place to be laid to rest, but right on the other side of the hill was Rosemount Cemetery. I did just two graveside services at Rosemount. Rose Hill and Rosemount were separated by an old chain-link fence, and if you know about old, Southern towns, then you know that the cemeteries were once segregated as though Heaven would be as well, yet the preachers read: Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth. Think with me, not of what is, but of what’s coming: A city where God will make His home with all mortals. All people. Regardless of skin color or religious conviction. We’ve come a long way here in the South, and so now we know in our heads that Heaven will not be segregated by race or religion, but, if we won’t marry someone who votes differently than we do, then do we really know in our hearts about what’s coming? If we look across the aisle and see anything other than a brother or sister, who have we become, and what kind of a future do we believe we’re heading towards? As your pastor, I want you to go and vote on Tuesday if you haven’t already. I’m not going to tell you whom to vote for. Rev. Billy Graham endorsed Richard Nixon, and I have learned from his mistake. Instead of endorsing one or the other, I’m just going to tell you to vote, but as your preacher, I’m also telling you that as a nation, we’ve got to learn to love people who vote differently because Heaven will not have a separate section for democrats and republicans. Now, I don’t mean you have to agree with everybody. It’s our obligation to vote, and it’s in our blood to disagree. It is one of our constitutional rights to form an educated opinion, to think for ourselves and then to vote and to debate and to argue. If we stop thinking, we will stop maintaining our democracy, but if we stop loving our neighbor, we are no longer following Jesus. His greatest commandment was: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind and love your neighbor as yourself.” I learned a new word that I like while I was in Brazil the week before last. The week before last, I was with a delegation of pastors trying to help Brazilian church leaders develop new programs for their congregations, and while there, I learned a word I hadn’t ever heard before. It wasn’t a Portuguese word, either. It’s an English one: philoxenia. You might not have heard that word before either. Its antonym is more well known. The opposite of philoxenia is xenophobia. Xenophobia is fear of neighbor. Philoxenia is love of neighbor. If ever there were a word our society needed to hear, it’s philoxenia. If ever there were a word that we needed to practice in a society where so few of us even know our neighbor’s names, it’s philoxenia. We’ve got to practice that word. We’ve got to get into the habit of loving our neighbors because philoxenia, love of neighbor, is the word that will define our eternity. Not fear of our neighbor, but love. Love despite difference. Love over division. On this All Saints’ Sunday, I urge you to practice philoxenia now, for this is the way of Jesus, Who is our help and our hope. Amen.