Nature Series: Trees

Nature Series: Trees

Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; March 15, 2020

3rd Sunday in Lent

Deuteronomy 20:19-20; Psalm 1; Luke 13:6-9


From my point-of-view as a child, the most astounding thing about my grandparent’s small farm in Western North Carolina was the vistas from the front lawn. Wonderful views of the mountains were even more spectacular when seen from the branches of my grandmother’s cherry tree. From there I could perch for hours, compete with the blackbirds for the fruit of the tree, and gaze out over the valley into the great beyond. Nearby stood a grand oak tree, with limbs too high for a little girl to master; nonetheless, I welcomed the shade and the breeze its branches provided to cool the skin and warm the heart.


Some years later, I learned to appreciate the plants and trees of the mountains even more, when, during my undergraduate studies at Carson-Newman College, I took a May-term class entitled “Appalachian Flora.” It was one of the most fun classes I have ever taken. In my mind’s eye I can still see Dr. Chapman (God rest his soul) walking along naming every plant and tree in sight. Even things that I had previously recognized only as weeds had such interesting names. Two of my favorites were Jack-in-the-Pulpit and the Tree of Heaven—so called, Dr. Chapman joked, because it stinks like, well, you know, that other place.


Regarding plants and trees, the Botanical Society of America offers these wise words: Imagine a world where the plants of the planet are harnessed to help its inhabitants find sustainable solutions for some of their most pressing needs—clothing, food, housing, jobs, clean air, and clean water. Welcome to planet earth!


Trees provide for us and they fascinate us. We climb them, we use them, we meditate under them, and we write poems about them. Poet Joyce Kilmer wrote the following entitled simply “Trees.”

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.


In our little-known reading from Deuteronomy this morning, we catch a glimpse of the respect that should be paid to trees—even in a time of war. One Bible commentary points out that sparing fruit trees during wartime is consistent with the general ecological concern of Deuteronomy.[i] I daresay if such respect had continued down through the ages, our planet would be much healthier today.


Psalm 1 compares a healthy spiritual life to fruit-bearing trees, planted by streams of water, yielding fruit in their season. If we have eyes to see, trees show us what can be accomplished through time, persistence, and patience. Take the mighty oak tree, for example. It begins as a decaying acorn from which sprouts a tiny twig. The sun shines, the rain pours, the wind blows, and in a great many years, the tree becomes a giant oak—sturdy, strong, brimming with life. The great giants of our faith are a bit like that. Though storms came against them, instead of being uprooted, they dug in deep, held on tight to God, and gained the strength they needed to endure. Spiritually speaking, trees remind us of God’s love, for if God’s special care encompasses trees, how much more so does God care for us?


As a community, a nation, and a planet—there is no doubt we are in unchartered territory. Information about the spread of the coronavirus and expected outcomes are changing by the moment. We watch social media and news feeds and see people hoarding food, cleaning supplies, and toilet paper. We witness price-gouging so that a bottle of 88¢ rubbing alcohol costs over $20. We watch countries like Italy that have been forced to go into total lockdown due to rapid spread of COVID-19.  And, to keep similar circumstances at bay in our own country, a national emergency has been declared. With fear swarming like a dark cloud around us, what are we to do?


In a recent Facebook post, a clergy colleague shared something Martin Luther wrote when the Bubonic Plague struck Wittenberg in 1527:

I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine and take it. I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed in order not to become contaminated and thus perchance inflict and pollute others and so cause their death as a result of my negligence. If God should wish to take me, he will surely find me and I have done what he has expected of me and so I am not responsible for either my own death or the death of others. If my neighbor needs me however, I shall not avoid place or person but will go freely…”[ii]


Jesus came to the earth to show us how to love God, our neighbor, and ourselves—but how can we care for our neighbor in such a time as this? Well, we must look for new ways to be neighbors in order to keep ourselves and our community as healthy as possible—while taking whatever steps we can to care for the most vulnerable among us.


As Rabbi Rav Yosef put it:

Every hand that we don’t shake must become a phone call that we place. Every embrace that we avoid must become a verbal expression of warmth and concern. Every inch and every foot that we physically place between ourselves and another, must become a thought as to how we might be of help to that other, should the need arise.


Indeed, we are in new territory. But that is not to say that God is unable to bring good from it. Perhaps now, we may pause to realize that, like the root system of an old oak tree, we are deeply connected as brothers and sisters around the globe. Perhaps now, we may ask the Spirit of Christ to come—dig around the soil of our lives and help us bear good fruit in such a time as this—for love of Christ and love of neighbor. In the name of the Father and Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

[i] The New Jerome Bible Commentary, 104.

[ii] Luther’s Works Volume 43, pg. 132 the letter “Whether one may flee from a Deadly Plague”

*Cover Art by Unsplash, used by permission

Nature Series: Mountains

Nature Series: Mountains

Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; March 8, 2020

2nd Sunday in Lent

Exodus 3:1-12, 19:16-20; Matt. 4:23-5:2a


“The Bucket List,” is a movie starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. Freeman plays the role of blue-collar mechanic, Carter Chambers and the arrogant billionaire, Edward Cole is played by Jack Nicholson. When a diagnosis of terminal cancer brings them together, sharing a hospital room, things get off to a bumpy start. But after a while, they begin to tolerate each other until, finally, they become the best of friends.



In light of their circumstances, it doesn’t take long for the issue of God to arise. Edward thinks faith is a bunch of poppycock and compares God to the Sugarplum Fairy. Carter and his wife are people of faith. At one point in the movie, Carter shares a story with Edward about a man who scaled Mount Everest and had a spiritual experience on the mountain. During his climb, a profound silence fell around the mountaineer, and he heard the voice of the mountain. “It was like he heard the voice of God,” Carter says.



When Carter begins writing a “bucket list” for the things he wants to do before he “kicks the bucket,” it captures Cole’s imagination—so much so, he is willing to join him and cover all the expenses. In time, the two takeoff on a wild adventure that includes skydiving, flying over the North Pole, touring the Taj Mahal, riding motorcycles on the Great Wall of China, and visiting the base of Mt. Everest (which was unfortunately shrouded in clouds).



Too soon, Carter’s health takes a dramatic nosedive and he dies. Giving Carter’s eulogy in a packed church, Edward explains that he and Carter had been complete strangers, but the last three months of Carter’s life were the best three months of his. It seems that Edward has reconsidered his beliefs for he says, if there is an afterlife, he hopes Carter’s there to vouch for him and show him the ropes on the other side. The epilogue reveals that when Edward dies, his ashes are taken to the summit of an unnamed peak in the Himalayas by his assistant Matthew. There, in a Chock full o’Nuts coffee can, he is laid to rest on a high mountain beside his dear friend. [i]  



This morning we continue the sermon series on nature by reflecting on mountains. How they fascinate us.  People want to climb them, look down from them, and conquer them, but aren’t they really just elevated chunks of earth and rock? Hardly!  If we have only a touch of mysticism in our soul, we recognize that mountains are charged with the power of symbolism and metaphor. Ancient pagans offered their sacrifices on the high places. The most revered gods and goddesses of the Greeks and Romans were said to dwell on Mount Olympus. In nearly every religion, mountains have been shrouded in a mist of legend and divine power.



In our Scriptures, have you ever noticed how often God conveys important information from a mountain top? In Genesis 22 we’re invited to accompany Abraham on a trek to Mount Moriah where he is tested. God instructs him, ‘Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt-offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” Abraham obeys, taking his one and only son up to the mountain, not knowing if it will be the last mountain top experience they’ll share together. Thankfully, God intervenes when Abraham reaches out his hand to kill his son. The angel of the Lord calls from heaven, and says, ‘Abraham, Abraham…do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.’ Abraham looks up and sees a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Gladly, he offers it up as a burnt-offering and names the place ‘The Lord will provide.”



In today’s reading from the Book of Exodus, Moses is tending his father-in-law’s flock when, on Mount Horeb, he witnesses a most amazing sight—a bush ablaze with fire but unconsumed by it. He turns aside to examine the bush. To his surprise, God speaks from it and Moses is given the task of leading God’s people out of slavery and into a land flowing with milk and honey. Later, Mount Sinai (likely another name for Mount Horeb) is the place from which God gives Moses the Ten Commandments—guidelines for how God’s chosen people should live.



One of my favorite mountain stories appears in 1 Kings 18[ii]. King Ahab and his wife Jezebel have led God’s people to forsake God’s commandments and follow the gods of Baal and Asherah. God has had enough so Elijah is sent to confront King Ahab. Mincing no words, Elijah tells the king to have all of Israel assemble at Mount Carmel. It’s time for a showdown between Yahweh and the prophets of Baal and Asherah who dine at Jezebel’s table. So, the people gather and Elijah essentially tells them that this is the day to decide: “If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal, follow him.”



Elijah asks for two bulls—one to be given to him as a representative for Yahweh; one to 450 prophets representing Baal. The bulls are prepared for sacrifice and placed on the wood, but no fire is set. Elijah tells the prophets of Baal, “You call on the name of your god and I will call on the name of the Lord; the god who answers by fire is indeed God.” The prophets call on Baal from morning until noon. Nothing happens. At noon Elijah begins to mock them, “Cry aloud! Surely he is god; either he is meditating, or he has wandered away, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened.” Desperate, the prophets cut themselves with swords and blood gushes, but no voice, no answer, no response comes.



Then Elijah tells the people to come a little closer. Let me show you how it’s done—he seems to say. Elijah offers a prayer to the Lord.  He prepares the altar and digs a trench around it. “Fill four jars with water and pour it on the burnt offering and on the wood,” he says. Then, “Do it again,” he says. “Do it a third time.” Water runs all around the altar and fills the trench. Then Elijah begins praying, “O Lord, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that you are God…” When Elijah finishes praying, the fire of the Lord falls and consumes the offering, the wood, the stones, and even the dust. The people fall on their faces and cry out, “The Lord indeed is God; the Lord indeed is God.”



The mountain theme continues into the New Testament. In what is known as the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus shares the principles of his Father’s kingdom, reinterpreting the law, hearkening back to the revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai. Sitting down, Jesus teaches like a rabbi saying:  ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth…”



Near the end of his ministry, Jesus takes Peter, James and John with him up on a high mountain where he’s transfigured before them, his face shines like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear for a little chat. From a cloud that overshadows them, they hear a voice saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”[iii]



On the night of his arrest, Jesus and his disciples gather in the Upper Room. After Jesus institutes the ritual of the Lord’s Supper, they sing a hymn and go out to the Mount of Olives, a hill just east of the city. On the lower slopes of the Mount of Olives, they enter Gethsemane and it is there that Jesus prays, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.”[iv]



Our faith story is rich with mountains—both physically and metaphorically. Mountains are places to meet God. Often, for those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, mountains are places from which God speaks. Where do you meet God Almighty?  In nature? Among the mountains, hills, rivers and trees? Where do you see the face of Yahweh? Here, among other believers? Is it too much to imagine that every Sunday morning can be a mini mountain top experience: a journey to a place where we gather to see things anew, a journey to a place where we meet the holy God of the mountains?

[i] and

[ii] 1 Kings 18:17-39

[iii] Matthew 17:1-8

[iv] Mark 14:36

*Cover Art by Unsplash, used by permission

Nature Series: Water

Nature Series: Water

Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; March 1, 2020

1st Sunday in Lent

Genesis 1

Oh, the wonder of nature: rocks and hills, mountains and valleys, oceans and streams. One of the things I appreciate most about our Celtic Christian ancestors is their love and appreciation for nature. Surely God’s goodness, power, and beauty are on display all around us, if we only have eyes to see.


The Psalmist proclaims: “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it; for he has founded it on the seas, and established it on the rivers.”[i] In another place, “Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it.”[ii] In Romans chapter 1 we are told that God has revealed God’s own self through nature: “Ever since the creation of the world his eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made.” [iii] Surely the world God created has much to teach us.


This morning we begin a sermon series that will carry us through the Season of Lent. The series is on nature—God’s wondrous creation. Along the way, we will consider trees and mountains and creatures—just to name a few. But first, we turn our attention to a theme that flows throughout Scripture: water. Of course, water plays a prominent role in the story of creation—which begins with a wind from God, sweeping over the face of the waters. There’s the story of Noah being instructed by God to build an ark, which he does, on dry land that is soon covered by the waters of the Great Flood. Then there is the story of baby Moses, born on the heels of the Egyptian king’s declaration that all the Hebrew baby boys must be killed to keep the Hebrew population in check. But Moses’ mother will have none of it. Instead she puts her beautiful baby in a basket and places him among the reeds along the river, where Pharaoh’s daughter soon finds him. Later, as a grown man, Moses will be used by God to lead the people of Israel to safety when God parts the waters of the Red Sea to let them pass through.[iv]


For the people of Israel, the Red Sea marks their initiation into the faith. In a broader sense, the Red Sea represents redemption from bondage. At some point, we must all leave Egypt—that place of slavery to sin and hopeless weariness. We must leave Egypt—to be redeemed—to enter the Promised Land.


Another important body of water in Scripture is the Jordan River. It begins in the far north of Israel, in the high mountains, and continues its winding journey, emptying at the south end of the Sea of Galilee, meandering to the end of its journey into the Dead Sea. In the book of Joshua, just as the Israelites crossed the Red Sea to enter the wilderness, they cross the Jordan to enter the Promised Land.


The Jordan River flows in and out of the story of the people of Israel, and we pick up its trail again in the Gospel of Matthew: “In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of God has come near’…Then the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were going out to him, and all the region along the Jordan, and they were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.”


But there is one who comes who has no sin, Jesus, who comes from Galilee the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John hesitates, saying, “I need to be baptized by you….” But Jesus answers him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consents. And there, in the murky waters of the River Jordan, Jesus is baptized and suddenly the heavens are opened, and the Spirit of God descends upon him like a dove. Repeatedly in Scripture the River Jordan serves as a marker of crucial moments of decision or resolution. Once the Jordan is crossed, there is no turning back.


It’s interesting that Jesus’ first miracle involves water—turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana. And we can’t follow his life and ministry without jumping into the Sea of Galilee. Surprisingly, the Sea of Galilee is not very big—it’s more like a large lake—about 13 miles across and 8 miles wide. From the summit of Arbel Cliff, high above the Sea of Galilee the magnificent view below encompasses the Plain of Genneseret, Magdala, Nazareth, the Mount of Beatitudes, Capernaum… These are the places where Jesus conducts most of his ministry—around the Sea of Galilee. From here he teaches his disciples how to be fishers of people. In large ways and small, Jesus walks the areas around the Sea of Galilee to meet the needs of people—feeding the hungry, healing the sick, bringing salvation to people who are like sheep without a shepherd.


Perhaps the takeaway for us from Jesus’ relationship with the Sea of Galilee is this: just like fish need water and fishermen need fish, people need the Lord. People need to drink deeply of Living Water, lest they die.


In an article in Presbyterians Today, “Jesus, Living Water,” David Gambrell writes:


From beginning to end—Genesis to Revelation—water flows through the story of salvation… God’s promise is extended to every living thing after a great flood. God’s people are delivered from slavery through the sea. God’s power to redeem from exile is like a rushing watercourse in the desert (Isa. 35:6-7). God’s invitation to abundant life is like a freely flowing fountain. God’s desire for justice and righteousness is like the mighty waters of an ever-flowing stream (Amos 5:24). God’s eternal realm is like a river that flows from the heavenly throne, bringing healing to all nations (Rev. 22:1-5).


So when Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well and asks her for a simple drink of water (John 4:7-15), there is a deep reservoir of meaning and mystery just beneath the surface. The “living water” that Jesus offers is brimming with biblical significance—it wells up from the Source of all life, surges with the promise of the living Word, spills over with the power of the Holy Spirit. This isn’t just a bucket of H20, it is the blessing of the Holy Three-in-One…”


When we pass through the waters of baptism, we enter into a new way of life in Christ (Romans 6:3-11). By the gift of the Holy Spirit, God’s love has been poured into our hearts (Rom. 5:5). We are called to share this life-giving love, continuing Christ’s ministry of giving drink to those who are thirsty…”[v]


Hopefully, in our spiritual lives, we have crossed the Red Sea, leaving Egypt and its ills behind. Redeemed by Christ our Lord, we have been invited into the Promised Land. Marked by the baptismal waters of Jordan, we have been joined to the family of God forever and we have been claimed for service. Until that time when Christ returns in all his glory, we wander the Sea of Galilee on a search and rescue mission to which God has called each of us.


Remember the words of Jesus, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”[vi]


By the grace of God, we gather around the Table of our Lord to receive manna from heaven. Here we are nourished to share in Christ’s ministry. Here we are equipped to share Living Water with a world that is dying of thirst.


[i] Psalm 24:1-2, NRSV.

[ii] Psalm 96:11-13a.

[iii] Romans 1:20a.


[v] David Gambrell, “Jesus, Living Water,” Presbyterians Today, June 2013, 39.

[vi] Matthew 28:19-20.

 *Cover Art by Unsplash; used with permission. Affirmation of Faith: God of Creation via


Eyes to See


Transfiguration Sunday

2 Peter 1:16-21

Matthew 17:1-9

Jane Shelton, CRE; February 23, 2020

First Presbyterian Valdosta


When I read this Matthew scripture, I couldn’t help but chuckle at Peter.  I could identify with Peter.  The one who would be eager to show hospitality for this person I’m with, this person that I love.  Wanting to give Jesus something that I thought would be important to the moment, or in this case, a monument to remember the moment, the location of this special event.  Yes, I can just see the wheels turning in Peter’s mind, and the excitement he was experiencing!

Peter, in his hospitality and excitement, offers to make three dwellings, one for Jesus, one for Moses and one for Elijah, but God had other plans.

Like Peter, I’m one of those who gets so caught up in wanting to do something special, that I sometimes miss what God is telling me to do.

I like to think that as I’ve gotten older, that I am better able to recognize when I am doing something that I think is a good idea from something that God thinks is a good idea, or perhaps I’ve learned to take just a moment to ponder or pray or meditate to see which direction God may be pointing me to go, even when it is a direction in which I am not comfortable.

As Jesus takes Peter, James and John up the high mountain, just the three of them alone, it has been only six days since Jesus has begun to reveal that he is destined to go into Jerusalem, be killed and raised on the third day.

It has only been six days since Peter’s response was to rebuke him for saying so, as he responds to Jesus, “God forbid it, Lord!  This must never happen to you.”

It is heart wrenching to hear this transaction between Jesus and his beloved disciple Peter.

Would any of us have acted differently if our best friend had told us such a thing?

Perhaps it is this very incident that leads Jesus to take Peter with him to the mountain.

And the humor in this moment is when Peter offers to build three dwellings at the moment that Jesus has become transfigured before him.  The moment that Elijah and Moses appears.  I mean these were not just your everyday events that Peter must have been used to.

I just have this picture in my head of these four men, Jesus, James, John and Peter standing at the top of this mountain, and Peter just talking away when he looks up and sees Jesus face shining like the sun.  Jesus clothes have become dazzling white.  And then, if that’s not enough to get your attention, here appears Moses and Elijah who begin a conversation with Jesus!

What a jaw-dropping, remarkable and unforgettable moment.  Perhaps you might even want to hear what they are having a conversation about.

And yet Peter’s response to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”

“It is good for us to be here?”  You think?!  Does he think that Jesus doesn’t know that?  Does he think Jesus didn’t know that when he brought him to the top of the mountain in the first place?

I mean, I can just see James and John rolling their eyes as they stand stunned before what is unfolding before them with Peter’s remarks.

And while Peter is still rambling on about how it might be a good idea to build these three dwellings, God decides to get Peter’s attention.

God, comes in a bright cloud and overshadows them.

And to really get Peter’s attention, God speaks from the cloud, and says, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”

Basically, God tells Peter to shut up and listen!  We’ve all met those people in our lives that just go on and on, and we get the point in the first sentence but they just go on and on and on.

There it is, those three very important words, LISTEN TO HIM!  Peter, stop your rambling, stop your “I think this is a good idea to build dwellings,” and listen to what Jesus is telling you.  Just stop, and listen.

As God speaks from the cloud, Peter, James and John fall to the ground as they are overcome by fear, and then what happens…..Jesus comes to them, ….and this is my favorite part of the story, ….out of compassion, ….Jesus comes and touches them.  He touches them.

I’m sure they thought they were about to be swallowed up by the great cloud, but Jesus tells them, “Get up, and do not be afraid.”

It is not until God comes on the scene that he is able to get the attention of Peter.  Peter so consumed with things of the world that he has not been able to see the divine in Jesus.

Jesus transfiguration affirms his divinity, yet it also begins to give the disciples eyes to see God’s light in the chaos that is to come.

We hear growing up, “Jesus died for our sins so we can be saved, so our sins can be forgiven,” but Jesus’ death on the cross shows us so much more.

It’s not just about us, in fact it is in the chaos…Jesus death, the disciples’ loss of a friend, a mentor, a leader…and through the resurrection….they are able to see the light of God.

God’s light shows the way through the chaos, those dark moments in our lives when we don’t know how we will possibly survive.  It allows us to see beyond ourselves, beyond our pain and loss and fear, so that we can be present with God.  So that we see the light within us to help others through their chaos.

If we become so focused on ourselves, how can we show others the light when we are looking inward instead of shining outward into the world?

We don’t need a monument.  God’s Holy Ground is where he meets us, wherever we are, all we have to do is stop and listen.  See the light of God.

God gave us his Son, Jesus, the Light of God in human form.  A light to build the early church.  Jesus shined the light outward to the disciples so we would know how we are to live, how we are to have compassion and help one another, love one another.  Jesus showed them how to meet with people, gather with people, share with people, heal people.

Do we have eyes to see through the chaos?

Just as the disciples had to learn to live without Jesus’ bodily presence, so do we.

Transfiguration invites us to live in the “light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (2 Cor. 4:6)

As the light shines in our hearts, God is made real every day.  He is made real to those around us.

God prepares us in transcendent encounters of our lives to endure the world around us, the world of the cross, the world that has the ability to break us.  Yet this world is never beyond God’s redemption.

God gets our attention so that our eyes are open.

Encounters on mountaintops with blinding lights may happen for some, but for most, they happen in the ordinary moments of our lives.  Ordinary moments at home with our family, at work with our employees and co-workers, classrooms, packing and delivering meals for Break Bread, Pub Theology, the Father Daughter Dance, the Bun Run and in other church activities.

Ordinary moments can happen anywhere we make a space for the Holy to be present.

Like Peter, it was when I was consumed by my thoughts for what needed to be done, that my eyes were opened.

On that Saturday morning on my way to the art center with Dick, it was all about me and the chaos in my life.  “I can’t do this,” I remember saying to Dick as I laid out all the reasons as to why I needed to drop my CRE class.

After all, Dick had just had bypass surgery in December, and now in April my sister was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer.  I needed to take care of them, I didn’t have time to finish my CRE class, and I was sure that I certainly could not preach, so what the heck was I doing in this CRE class anyway.

I had just wanted to learn all I could about God and Jesus and the Bible, but I had people to take care, a business to run, children and grandchildren.  Surely this CRE path was not the path that I was supposed to be on.

Yet in that art center, God showed me the light and opened my eyes.

It wasn’t about me and the chaos of my life.  In that simple photograph of the sandaled foot, that simple 8 x 10 black and white photograph that got my attention was a scripture.  I was curious enough to pull out my cellphone and look up Romans 10:14-15, “But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed?  And how are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard?  And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?  And how are they to proclaim him unless they are sent?  As it is written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

I remember the exact spot where the photograph hung on the wall to this day, because that became Holy Ground for me.

God’s light allowed me to see that it wasn’t about me.  It’s about doing the work that Jesus started, the work his disciples continued, and the work we are to carry on.

Peter tells his listeners, “We did not follow a myth, but we ourselves heard the voice come from heaven.  So we have the prophetic message more fully confirmed.  You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning rises in our hearts.  You must understand,” Peter continues, ”no prophecy of scripture is a matter of one’s own interpretation, because no prophecy ever came by human will, but men and women moved by the Holy Spirit spoke from God.”

In Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, “Learning to Walk in the Dark,” she refers to a prayer in The Book of Common Prayer:

‘Look down, O Lord, from your heavenly throne, and illumine this night with your celestial brightness; that by night as by day your people may glorify your holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.’

She writes, ‘this prayer recognizes a kind of light that transcends both wave and particle.  It can illumine the night without turning on the lights, becoming apparent to those who have learned to rely on senses other than sight to show them what is real.’

She goes on to write about a young French boy, Jacques Lusseyran, who loses his sight in a freak scuffle.  Later, when coming to terms with his blindness, he wrote,

‘I had completely lost sight in both my eyes; I could not see the light of the world anymore.  Yet the light was still there.  Its source was not obliterated.  I felt it gushing forth every moment and brimming over; I felt how it wanted to spread out over the world.  I had only to receive it.  It was unavoidably there.  It was all there, and I found again its movements and shades, that is, its colors, which I had loved so passionately a few weeks before.  This was something entirely new, you understand, all the more so since it contradicted everything that those who have eyes believe.  The source of light is not in the outer world.  We believe that it is only because of a common delusion.  The light dwells where life also dwells: within ourselves.”

Lusseyran shared one of his greatest discoveries was how the light he saw changed with his inner condition.  When he was sad or afraid, the light decreased at once.  Sometimes it went out altogether, leaving him deeply and truly blind.  Yet, when he was joyful and attentive, it returned as strong as ever.  He learned very quickly that the best way to see the inner light and remain in its presence was to love.


When Claude Monet painted his famous water lilies, he used the light to reflect their beauty, moving his easel through the garden to capture the light so he could see more clearly.

In our Contemplative Photography class this past summer, we learned how light reflects into the camera lens to reveal God’s beauty we might miss with our eyes.

In this life we can’t save ourselves from suffering, and we can’t shield ourselves from the light of God that sheds hope in the darkest moments of our lives.  Jesus will come to us, he will touch us, and he will say, get up and do not be afraid.

We do not need a monument or a church building to find God.  God will find us in our homes, in our work places, sharing a meal with someone, leaning over the bedside of someone we care for, sharing through social media and live stream, and yes, maybe even in a church pew.

God finds us when we are broken and when we have joy in our hearts.

God is present in suffering and sacrifice and in the promise and potential of our lives.

Are our eyes open to see the light?  Are our eyes open to experience God’s Holy Ground…wherever we are?


*Cover Art “Icon of Transfiguration” by Aliksandar via Wikimedia Commons, used by permission


Rabbi Jesus

Rabbi Jesus

Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; February 16, 2020

6th Sunday after Epiphany

Psalm 119:1-8; Matthew 5:21-37


In today’s portion of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus plays the role of Rabbi. Because he recognizes that being faithful to God takes more than following the Ten Commandments verbatim, Jesus boldly takes the old law and helps the people hear it anew. Jesus engages with the text and makes it applicable to the culture of 1st Century Palestine.


In his classic work, Christian Doctrine, Shirley Guthrie notes that being a student of the Bible can be riddled with danger. To read the Bible properly, Guthrie wrote, we must read it with the intention of learning “who God is and how we may live faithfully in God’s presence.” Furthermore, when we encounter difficult passages it is wise to examine other passages that might throw more light on the question at hand. In other words, we must listen to the “total witness of scripture, not just selected passages that support what we already think and want to hear. When anyone argues that ‘the Bible says’ this or that, it is important to ask, ‘Is that all the Bible says…?’”[i]


Engaging God’s word—wrestling with the text in new ways—the practice is as old as Scripture itself. Take the Jewish Midrash, for example. Rabbi Margaret Moers Wenig explains that the ancient practice of Midrash offers a commentary, generally on the Torah. In this type of preaching, rabbis allow themselves creative license to help explain the story.[ii] The Midrash offers a way of examining Scripture that moves beyond the literal sense of the text, examines it from various sides, and fills in the gaps, all in an effort to penetrate its deepest meaning. You likely noticed that I chose The Message translation for this morning’s gospel reading. I did so because, much like a midrash, Eugene Peterson takes creative license to help us understand the story afresh.


When it comes to other styles of preaching, once upon a time, expository messages were all the rage—sermons that took on specific texts and interpreted them verse by verse. Extemporaneous preaching came into vogue in the 19th century, with the preacher saturating himself with details beforehand and then delivering the message without the use of notes. Topical sermons present a specific theme and then examines it using a variety of biblical references. I have a friend who prefers this style although she acknowledges that it sometimes feels like preaching “The Gospel According to Hallmark.”


More recently, narrative sermons that rely on stories to tell THE STORY have become popular. One way of using narrative preaching is to tell the story using a 1st person monologue. The most creative monologue I ever heard was on the character of Jonah, told from the perspective of a fly that got stuck on Jonah’s shoulder after he was vomited up on the beach. With one wing stuck in the muck, the fly tried just as desperately to get away from Jonah as Jonah had tried to get away from God. The incredible monologue made the story come alive—for people of all ages.


While preaching and teaching styles have changed from generation to generation, so have music styles. When it comes to choosing worship music, I enjoy variety. At our First Friday Contemplative Services, for example, as an offering of prayer, we sing Taizé pieces from the hymnal or short choruses I write to be accompanied by guitar. For Sunday morning worship, tried and true traditional hymns are chosen as well as contemporary pieces that are played on the piano—often as the middle hymn.


Contemporary music, in its early years, garnered lots of followers. It had more than its share of critics, too. The criticisms often concerned its lack of theological depth and its focus on individualism. My friend Heather who is a chaplain and accomplished musician calls those years the era of “Jesus is my Boyfriend Music.” Thankfully though, this style of music has greatly improved.


Of course, historically, the Psalter was the original hymn book of the Hebrew people. Instead of reading them or reciting them, the people sang them. Psalms flowed through their spiritual blood in ways that, sadly, have become foreign to us. So, in an effort to bring new life to an old practice, this morning I’ve asked Donna and Kinney for assistance. Please turn your attention to the inset in your bulletin underneath the sermon title. To start us off, Kinney will sing the refrain twice and then we will join him to sing it twice. Thereafter, we will read the parts responsively and sing the refrain where noted. Let us sing a new-old song unto the Lord.


The Word of God[iii]

Refrain: Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. (Sing twice.)


Oh, how I love your law! All the day long it is in my mind.

Your commandment has made me wiser than my enemies, and it is always with me.

I have more understanding than all my teachers, for your decrees are my study.

I am wiser than the elders, because I observe your commandments. [Refrain]

I refrain my feet from every evil way, that I may keep your word.

I do not shrink from your judgments, because you yourself have taught me.         

How sweet are your words to my taste! They are sweeter than honey to my mouth.

Through your commandments I gain understanding; therefore I hate every lying way.    

Your word is a lantern to my feet and a light upon my path. [Refrain]


Whether with words or music, our ways of communicating the message of God’s love are ever-changing—or at least they should be! Down through the ages, biblical interpretations have changed; sermon styles have changed; music has changed, too.


In the February newsletter, I wrote an article about our upcoming Lenten practice—something that will require change. From Ash Wednesday through Maundy Thursday, instead of the usual Wednesday night program and catered meal, we will meet for Wednesday Welcome Table from 6:00 to 7:00 p.m. In the style of what new church developers are calling “dinner church,” we will share food prepared by individuals and/or teams who create something healthy and delicious for us to enjoy. Wednesday Welcome Table will begin with a short prayer. Then, as Donna plays contemporary hymns or other arrangements, we will fill our plates—to overflowing—I daresay. Once everyone is seated, we will examine Scripture and other inspiring readings. We will sing songs accompanied by guitar or other instruments. Finally, we will conclude with the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday and with Holy Communion on the remaining evenings of Lent.


To be relevant in each generation, the church is invited to bravely consider new ways of being the church in and for the world. The Wednesday Welcome Table is one such new way—one such experiment—if you will. And here is a personal invitation from your pastor. Even if you never attend our Wednesday programs, come at least once. That way, when we complete our Lenten practice, you can help assess the results. If dinner church does not make enough of a positive impact to continue, we will chalk it up to a good experience, bless it, and let it go. If it holds promise, however, we may consider adopting the model—or portions of it—when we return from our summer break in August.


With all the courage we can muster, let us look to Rabbi Jesus for how to take the old and help people experience it anew. Who knows what we might learn by stepping out in faith to try new ways of exploring Scripture? Who knows what we might learn by teaming up to make healthy, delicious foods that appeal to a wider range of people? Who knows what we might learn by including more contemporary songs in a worship setting? Who knows?


In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

[i] Shirley Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 10-13.

[ii] Jana Childers, ed., Birthing the Sermon, 185.

[iii] Adapted from Psalm 119: 97-105.

*Cover Art by James Tissot via Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain

Salt & Light

Salt & Light

Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; February 9, 2020

5th Sunday after Epiphany

Isaiah 58:1-9a; Matthew 5:13-20


It seems that Isaiah is dealing with a real conundrum. Imagine a preacher/prophet who’s leading a congregation and every Sabbath he looks out and sees a full house—standing room only—every modern-day preacher’s dream. Now imagine that the people are praying and fasting and calling on God. It couldn’t get any better than this, right? Well, evidently that is not the case for God is quite distressed at the people’s shenanigans. Yes, they’re crying out to God, fasting and praying, but they’re doing it for their own selfish motives. While their religion looks tasty from the outside, it’s really a recipe for a rotten life—lacking flavor, lacking purpose.


Once upon a time there was a little girl named Goldilocks, who went for a walk one day in the forest. Before long she happened upon a house. She knocked on the door, but no one answered so she walked right in. On the table there were three bowls of porridge which looked and smelled delicious to Goldilocks, who was, by then, rather hungry. So, she tasted the porridge in the first bowl but was taken aback, “Oh, this is terrible. It has no flavor at all.” Then she tasted the porridge from the second bowl. “Yuck! This porridge is too salty. Who could possibly eat this?” Finally, she tasted the last bowl of porridge and proclaimed with great delight, “Ah, this porridge is just right,” so she ate it all up.


In this adapted beginning of the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, clearly, salt matters: too little leaves a dish empty of flavor, too much makes it inedible. But just right—well, that makes all the difference in the world.


Matthew’s gospel again places us in Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount that begins, we noted last week, with words of blessing. Now Jesus turns to the matter at hand which is how to live into a blessed life—how to live holy lives—how to love kindness, do justice and walk humbly with God. To all those gathered around, Jesus proclaims, “You are the salt of the earth…you are the light of the world.” To say that believers are the salt of the earth implies that we are to bring flavor and healing to the world. To say that believers are the light of the world indicates we are to help others see a ray of hope in the midst of darkness.


In Advent Readings from Iona, I happened upon an amazing story that goes like this:

A boy lived in an isolated house on a hill. A God-forsaken place for a young man. But one thing fascinated him. Each night he would look out into the darkness and see a light. It was far away on a hilltop, but this sign of life gave him hope.

One day he decided to go in search of it. It was a long and lonely walk, and it was already dark before he reached the outskirts of a town. Tired and hungry, he knocked at the first door he came to, and explained his search for the mysterious light that had always given him hope.

“I know!” replied the woman who had answered the door. “It gives me hope as well.” And she pointed back in the direction from which he had come. There on the horizon, was a single light shining. A sign of life in the darkness. The light from his own home.[i]


You are the salt of the earth…you are the light of the world.


As a pastor, I wrestle with what it means for us to be salt and light for one another and for our community. Undeniably, the level of stress and dis-ease around us is skyrocketing. Listen to friends, family, coworkers, teenagers, parents, grandparents—people are anxious. What are we to do? What is the church to do?


Reflecting on this weekend, it is easy to see how we are saying yes to Christ’s invitation to be salt and light for the world. As a church with a little less than 100 active members, we went out into the community to host the 24th Annual Father Daughter Valentine Dance for 3700 people. We prayed. We baked. We carried to and fro. We blew up balloons. We greeted. We checked coats. We scanned tickets. We handed out t-shirts. We poured beverages. We set out cookies and cookies and more cookies. You are the salt of the earth…you are the light of the world. In addition, we hosted the First Friday Contemplative Service—a worship opportunity that draws folks from our church as well as those in our community who are Methodist, Baptist, Episcopal, Disciples of Christ, and even some who have no affiliation to a church. Together, we prayed and sang and examined Scripture and sat in silence and dined at Christ’s table. You are the salt of the earth…you are the light of the world. And if that is not enough, yesterday we met for Pub Theology at Georgia Beer Co. Routinely, strangers find us on Facebook or via the newspaper, and they are curious about this brave ministry the Presbyterians have dared to bring to Valdosta. This week’s discussion was on Kobe Bryant, the Halftime show, Christology, and the Coronavirus—so, as you can imagine—our conversation was lively. You are the salt of the earth…you are the light of the world.


Surely, there are people in our community who are looking for hope. Will they find it because of us? Will they find it among us? One woman, who was hesitant to be a part of a faith community, tells the story of why she began attending a church—a place that ultimately became essential to her life. She writes,

Once I began going to church, the age-old religious rituals marking the turning of the year deepened and gave a fuller meaning to the cycle of the seasons and my own relation to them. The year  was not only divided now into winter, spring, summer, and fall but was marked by the expectation of Advent, leading up to the fulfillment of Christmas, followed by Lent, the solemn prelude to the coming of the dark anguish of Good Friday that is transformed in the glory of Easter. Birth and death and resurrection, beginnings and endings and renewals, were observed and celebrated in ceremonies whose experience made me feel I belonged—not just to a neighborhood and a place, but to a larger order of things, a universal sequence of life and death and rebirth…

Going to church, even belonging to it, did not solve life’s problems—if anything, they seemed to escalate again around that time—but it gave me a sense of living in a large context, of being a part of something greater than I could see through the tunnel vision of my personal concerns. I now looked forward to Sunday because it meant going to church; what once was strange now felt not only natural but essential.[ii]


You are the salt of the earth…you are the light of the world. Regarding your faith, what is essential to you? What brings you hope? Where are you nourished when your soul needs refreshment? I hope you find something you need here in the church, and I hope that by being here, you are inspired to be the hands and feet of Jesus wherever you go.


Imagine a preacher who is leading a congregation and every Sunday she looks out and sees a full house—standing room only—every preacher’s dream. Now imagine that the people are praying and fasting and singing and calling on God. It couldn’t get any better than this! As the body of Christ in this place and time, we have the ability and the privilege to point people to Jesus. And churches great and small have a part to play. Oh, we will do it differently—that’s part of the tapestry of God’s beautiful plan. But if being just right in the eyes of God is our goal—if we want to be salt—we need to taste the dish we are serving up. If we want to be light—we need to be open to new ways of sharing the gospel. It’s a tall order, but with the love of God, the example of Christ, and the strength of the Holy Spirit, the church has been equipped to fill it. Oh, that God would gaze lovingly upon First Presbyterian Church of Valdosta and proclaim, “Not too little—not too much—but just right!”


[i] Brian Woodcock & Jan Sutch Pickard, Advent Readings from Iona, December 17 reading.

[ii] Dan Wakefield in Returning, quoted in Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life by Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat, 478-9.

*Cover Art “Sermon on the Mount” by Carl Heinrich Bloch via Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain

He Would Love First

He Would Love First

Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; February 2, 2020

4th Sunday after Epiphany

Micah 6:1-8; Matthew 5:1-12


By the fifth chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus’ ministry is in full swing. He has called his first disciples and he has trekked throughout Galilee teaching the good news of God’s kingdom breaking in. And he has demonstrated what that looks like by healing every disease and sickness among the people. It’s no wonder that quite a crowd has gathered. Noticing them, Jesus goes up the mountain, much like Moses, and begins speaking. But instead of offering the Ten Commandments, Jesus provides a new teaching—one that invites hearers to move beyond external obedience to the law toward a new way of life guided by love. Essentially, Jesus’ way of being in the world informs the question posed by the prophet Micah, “…And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”[i] To do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God, well, it looks a lot like Jesus. So pay attention!

Seated on the mountain side, Jesus begins his “Sermon on the Mount” with the Beatitudes. “Makarios,” the Greek word for beatitude, can be translated happy, fortunate, privileged, favored by God, blessed. But notice the people whom Jesus claims to be blessed: the poor in spirit, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness. “Really, Jesus, those are the folks you call blessed?”

If we were asked to come up with a list of people our culture considers blessed, happy, fortunate, privileged, I daresay it would highlight character traits that are very different from meekness, mercy, and poverty. Instead, steeped in the reality of the consumeristic, power-hungry machine that our society has become—the list of beatitudes for our nation in the 21st century might look more like this:

Blessed are those who have more money than God because they don’t have a care in the world; Blessed are those who are not sorry for their behavior because they do not have to ask for forgiveness or make amends; Blessed are the 24/7 news channels with their talking heads for they guide the convictions of the people; Blessed are the mean, hateful ones for they know how to get even; Blessed are the insurance and pharmaceutical companies for they hold the quality of our healthcare in their hands; Blessed are those on Instagram and Twitter who have millions of followers for they have the power to influence the world for good or for ill; Blessed are those who are angry and violent because they use fists and weapons to take care of their problems.


Of course, as Christians we know this list is not right. Yet, in a world that seems to be spinning out of control, who wants to worship a God who blesses the poor and the persecuted? We do! We NEED to worship a God who blesses the least of these because it means that we are all included in God’s wide embrace—come what may!  It means God blesses your son who can’t seem to find his place in the world. God blesses your friend who just got a diagnosis that can only be shared in a whisper. God blesses your neighbor who just lost his job and is worried about his future. God blesses you when you sit by your mother’s bedside waiting for her to draw her last breath—waiting for her to enter her eternal home. God blesses! That’s just what God does!


While the Sermon on the Mount has provided inspiration down through the ages, even for people of other faiths, like Gandhi, still most of us have difficulty getting a handle on the Beatitudes. As a result, we tend to pay them little mind. Maybe it’s because we fear what they require of us. Maybe it’s because we do not understand them. To complicate matters, an in-depth study of the beatitudes provides a host of interpretations. In recent years, liberation theologians have adopted them as proof that God prefers the poor over the rich. While there is evidence of God’s love for the poor, the outcast, the downtrodden throughout Scripture, there is also ample examples of God blessing those he loves with abundance, long life, and shalom. And when it comes to how Jesus interacts with the wealthy; it is love of wealth that he repeatedly condemns. Moreover, let us not forget the wealthy women who wrote the checks for Jesus’ ministry. Can you imagine Jesus taking their money and in the same breath, condemning them for it?

It’s so easy to fall into the trap of binary thinking, arguing that something is either this way or it is that way. It is black or it is white. It is the healthy, wealthy, and wise who are blessed, or it is the sick, poor, and foolish. Perhaps the Beatitudes can provide a new lens for us to see that Jesus does not love the down and out more than the up and coming. Jesus does not prefer the poor over the rich. Blessedness, happiness, favor—it’s pure gift—and it is for everyone. Remember the words of the Apostle Paul: Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.[ii]

With God, blessedness is not a reward for righteousness. It is sheer grace. And in the realm of God, even mourning, poverty of spirit, and meekness can reveal an inbreaking of the abundant life. If we have eyes to see and ears to hear, we may listen to a woman who is in constant prayer for a friend who has just entered hospice care. “Blessed are those who mourn.” We may have a clergy friend who yearns for his congregation to nurture new seeds of ministry so they may take root and flourish. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.” We may notice the passion in the voice of our Break Bread Together Coordinator when she speaks of the 40 people a day we are currently feeding and the numerous folks who remain on the waiting list. “Blessed are the merciful.” We may give thanks for our Commissioned Ruling Elder who readily sees the good in both people and circumstances and who longs for love to grow in our midst. “Blessed are the pure in heart.”

Recently I preached a sermon entitled WWJBD? What Would John the Baptist Do? The premise of the sermon was that it is often difficult to know just what Jesus would do (harkening back to the WWJD bracelets, of course). When we are in doubt, though, we can always fall back on what John the Baptist would do. And what is that? He would point others to Jesus. This week the topic of WWJD? bracelets came up again in an email from Katharine Phelps. You see, a young 7th grader at Hahira Middle School is battling cancer, and someone is selling bracelets to raise money for her care. Elise Phelps, who has a heart of gold, was the first in line to purchase a pink HWLF bracelet—touted to be the answer to what Jesus would do. And what is that exactly? HWLF? He Would Love First.

What might “loving first” look like for those of us who happen to have adequate food, clothing, shelter, and resources? It might look like humbly listening to those weighed down by the cares of this world and then, if more than listening is required, doing whatever we can to help. It might look like moving out of our comfort zone to put the needs of vulnerable members of society before ours. It might look like taking Christ’s love out into the world in brave, new ways.

In all that he said, in all that he did, Jesus was guided by a heart overflowing with love. He came to breathe new life into the law. He came to show us how to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God. And he came to teach us that whether we feel like it or not—we are blessed because we are God’s beloved. May we follow in his footsteps. May we, too, choose to love first. Amen.

[i] Micah 6:8.

[ii] Romans 8:38-39

*Cover Art “View from The Mount of Beatitudes” by Deror Avi via Wikimedia Commons; used by permission;

Goin’ Fishin’

Goin’ Fishin’

Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; January 26, 2020

3rd Sunday after Epiphany

Isaiah 9:1-4; Matthew 4:12-23

Even as a young man, long before Uncle Clyde moved from North Carolina to Tennessee, he was no stranger to the area, because every chance he got, he drove the winding roads from Marshall through Hot Springs and Newport—all in search of fish that were just waiting for him in Douglas Lake. (Douglas Lake, by the way, built by TVA in the 1940’s, is 60 miles long and covers over 44,000 acres.) In time, Uncle Clyde moved near Douglas Lake, along with my Aunt Doris. Thankfully, he did happen to find a job so that he had something to do when the fish weren’t biting.

“What does it take to be a good fisherman?” I once asked my Uncle Clyde. I got a surprising answer. “You have to fish a lot—that way you know where the fish are.” Interesting. I expected something else, something like, “Well, you have to be a patient person…you have to like solitude…you have to be at home with hot sun and mosquitoes and all sorts of smelly things…” But, no, “You have to fish a lot!” Although he didn’t get into exaggerated fish tales, as fishermen are prone to do, he did have a lot to say about the sport and it was always fun to listen to him talk about boat fishing and trot lines and one type of reel for casting and another for fly fishing. And it was not uncommon for him to reel the conversation back to another beloved topic—faith in Christ. “Well, Glenda, some fish hit one thing, and some hit another,” I can still hear him say. “It’s like getting people to come to church—some things draw some folks while it takes something totally different to draw others.” Spoken like a man that knows a little about fishing for people, wouldn’t you say?

Hear again these words from Eugene Peterson’s The Message:

Walking along the beach of Lake Galilee, Jesus saw two brothers: Simon (later called Peter) and Andrew. They were fishing, throwing their nets into the lake. It was their regular work. Jesus said to them, “Come with me. I’ll make a new kind of fisherman out of you. I’ll show you how to catch men and women instead of perch and bass.” They didn’t ask questions, but simply dropped their nets and followed. A short distance down the beach they came upon another pair of brothers, James and John, Zebedee’s sons. These two were sitting in a boat with their father, Zebedee, mending their fishnets. Jesus made the same offer to them, and they were just as quick to follow, abandoning boat and father.

As many of you know, when I was a little girl, I was drawn to my Uncle Clyde like a fish to bait. There was something enticing about the way he talked—kind and gentle. Honestly, I don’t remember him ever raising his voice to anyone. He was the first person I ever heard pray out loud—at my grandparent’s house prior to Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner. Several years later, when I was twelve years old, I, too, came over the river and through the woods to live near Uncle Clyde and Aunt Doris. By that time, they had two sons, Kevin and Kenny. Kenny was nearly two years old.  Born with spina bifida, he had fluid on his spine that caused him to be paralyzed from the waist down. But that didn’t stop him from scooting all over the place using his arms. He was such a happy child. One of my fondest memories of him was one day when he was playing on the floor and saying his new word over and over again: “Snaggle-puss.” Every time he’d say it, he’d burst out laughing and so would everyone around him. Once when I stayed the night after one of his many surgeries, Kenny was having difficulty breathing. I must have been scared because I couldn’t sleep. That’s why I overheard Uncle Clyde, late in the night through the walls, softly talking to someone, softly talking to God.

I learned about prayer from my dear uncle. Oh, he never sat me down and gave me praying lessons. I don’t believe he ever tried to teach me “Now I lay me down to sleep,” or “Our Father who art in heaven”… or any other specific prayer. No, he taught by example—prayers of thanks around the dinner table—and prayers of anguish when physical healing seemed unlikely in this lifetime. The truth is, I was so enamored by Uncle Clyde I would have followed him anywhere so it’s a good thing that the place he led me was to the church, and the person he led me to was Jesus.

After Jesus learns of John the Baptist’s arrest, he makes his home in Capernaum by the Sea just as the prophet foretold. Then Jesus begins to proclaim, “Repent for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Sounds a lot like John’s preaching, doesn’t it? But there’s a significant difference. With Jesus, the kingdom of heaven has not only come near—the kingdom of heaven is present in the person of Jesus, the Son of God. However, this is yet to be revealed.

First, Jesus needs to gather a few followers. He starts looking for them by the Sea of Galilee where he finds Simon Peter and his brother Andrew casting a net into the water. “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” Without hesitation, they follow him. Then he sees two other brothers, James and John. They’re in the boat with their father mending nets. They, too, drop everything to follow Jesus.

And where does he lead them? Throughout Galilee, teaching people, loving people, healing people. With all that he says and all that he does, Jesus shows those who follow him what the kingdom of heaven looks like: There’s room for everyone. There’s no insiders and outsiders. Everyone is welcome to the table. There’s wholeness and hope and new life. The kingdom of heaven is at hand.

That day by the Sea of Galilee, Jesus offered four men a grand invitation, “Come, follow me, and I will teach you how to fish for people.” How strange those words must have sounded to fishermen. Fish for people—how do we do that? It’s a question we are still pondering, centuries later. While the good news of Jesus’ transforming power remains the same, the way that we communicate that message changes from generation to generation.

So, I ask you, First Presbyterian Church of Valdosta, in the year 2020: How are we fishing for people? What are we doing that lets the world know we’re still in the fishing business? “Well, that was then and this is now,” we might say. “Jesus doesn’t expect us to be doing that kind of work anymore.” But that won’t hold water, not if we consider the Great Commission that we find at the end of Matthew’s gospel. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.”

Maybe we feel like only the disciples were given the gift of evangelism and since that’s not our gift, we’re off the hook. But the truth is, at our baptism we were filled with God’s Holy Spirit. Baptism marks us as believers who are part of the body of Christ. Although we certainly have different gifts, still as the church—this church—we are certainly equipped to do what Jesus commands. And what does Jesus command first and foremost? That, too, is spelled out plainly in Matthew’s gospel: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all you soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus, God incarnate, comes to the earth to show all of humanity what love looks like. More than that, Jesus comes to change the world, so people no longer sit in deep darkness. Do you know someone who is sitting in darkness? Have sadness, depression, loneliness, marital problems, illness, addiction, grief, worry, financial woes—have they come knocking on your neighbor’s door—maybe even moved in? As a fisher of people, what bait might you use to draw them toward the light of God’s love and mercy and grace?

Many years ago, my Uncle Clyde used the bait of kindness, the bait of being a praying man, and the bait of inviting me to church to draw me toward God, and for that I will be forever thankful. As brothers and sisters in Christ, we, too, are called to follow in the footsteps of the disciples to learn the trade of fishin’ for people. We need to fish a lot, if we want to do it well. It’s still an honorable trade with life-changing, even eternal results.

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

*Cover Art “The Calling of the Apostles Peter and Andrew” by Duccio di Buoninsegna; Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons;



Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; January 19, 2020

2nd Sunday after Epiphany

Isaiah 49:1-7; John 1:29-42


Christmas has come and gone. Presents wrapped with paper of red, gold, and green, have been opened and are being enjoyed. By now, most of us have taken down the tree, gently wrapped precious ornaments and decorations, and returned them to their usual resting place in the garage, basement, storage building or up those never-ending steps to the attic. Christmas has come and gone, yet while preparing for the sermon, I happened upon what I can only describe as a belated Christmas gift. It came through the pages of a favorite commentary, Feasting on the Word, in an essay written by one of my favorite professors at Columbia Theological Seminary, Rodger Nishioka.



Before we open the gift, let me tell you a little about Rodger Nishioka. From my perspective, he and I became friends long before we met face to face. If you are a book lover as I am, you’ll completely understand—I first met Rodger Nishioka as the author of a book he had written about youth ministry. In those days, it was his area of expertise and he was in high demand—writing, lecturing and traveling. Through his writings, I came to admire him as a man of humility and wisdom. I am happy to report when I finally sat in his class at Columbia, my earlier impression of him was spot on—he is humble and wise, and he has a wonderful sense of humor.



One evening he invited our entire doctoral class to his home for dinner—a dinner which he prepared single-handedly. After we had eaten the delicious fare, someone remarked on our host’s culinary skills and he said his mother taught him and his brothers to cook when they were young. Then he shared how they nearly ate their parents out of house and home. After school, they’d be starving but their mother was often still at work. Finally, she decided it was time for them to pitch in since they were teenagers and fully capable of doing their part, so she taught them how to make one of their favorite meals, which included vegetables and a roast of some kind. Imagine her surprise when she got home the next evening and the table was bare. She asked her sons, “What happened, didn’t you cook the roast?”

“Yes mom, we cooked everything you told us to cook.”

“But where is it? Where’s the food?”

“We ate it!”

I guess Mrs. Nishioka should have been a little more specific with her growing boys—that is if she and her husband wished to partake of the evening meal.



It’s true that as we teach our young people, they teach us, if we will only pay attention. Our youngest son, Shane, has frequently played the role of my teacher—and often it has occurred on a long walk to one of our favorite spots. Generally, as we trek along, I can count on him to turn the conversation toward theology. So, I wasn’t at all surprised one afternoon when he started talking about certain televangelists and other people of celebrity status, who sometimes misrepresent Christianity. Finally, he said, “While I don’t mean to judge them, people who claim God speaks directly to them or insist they KNOW the mind of God, well, they make me a little nervous.”

“Smart boy,” I thought, and I had to agree with him. I went on to say that I believe God can instruct us in an audible voice—God can do whatever God wants to do—God is God, after all. But most of the time, divine guidance comes bit by bit, piece by piece. The Holy Spirit nudges us through the voice of a friend, Scripture, the Word proclaimed, the community of believers with whom we worship, poetry, art, music, prolonged silence, nature…



Yes, God speaks to us in endless ways, but there is no denying incredible evil has been carried out down through the ages in the name of God, when in fact, God had nothing to do with it! It seems to me that knowing, really knowing the heart of God is not something at which humans excel. Thus, when it comes to discerning the will of God, a little humility and wisdom go a long way.



Which brings me to our belated Christmas gift. You may recall several years ago when the What Would Jesus Do (WWJD?) campaign (based on a popular novel) was all the rage. Youth leaders near and far encouraged young people to wear WWJD bracelets to help them think before acting. Nishioka, who was working with Presbyterian youth at the time, had an interesting conversation with a high schooler one evening. Someone had given her a WWJD bracelet and she had chosen to wear it, but at the same time she found it disturbing. She shared this with Nishioka, who tried to explain that it was a symbol, a tangible reminder that as followers of Jesus, every step we take, and everything we do should be guided by Jesus. She said that she got that…but what she didn’t get was how in the world she was supposed to know what Jesus would do in any given situation, let alone carry it out. Nishioka tried to explain it all in theological terms, terms that I can hear myself saying to Shane, “Well, we have the Bible and we have a community of believers who help us interpret Jesus’ will…” But that’s not what the young woman was after. She interrupted, “Yeah, but don’t you see? I am not Jesus! I am fully human, but I am NOT fully divine. I just don’t think it’s fair to assume that I could even imagine what Jesus would do because I am not God!” [i] Smart girl—wise and humble!



16th Century Spanish mystic, Teresa of Avila, toward the end of her life composed the following poem:

Christ has no body now on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours.

Yours are the eyes through which to look out Christ’s compassion to the world;

Yours are the feet which he is to go about doing good;

Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.



While being the hands and feet of Jesus should be our life’s goal, still it’s good to acknowledge we are not Jesus and knowing the heart of God is not easy. Sometimes, when we are so certain we are doing the work of God for God’s sake, we can trip and fall on our human nature.



In Nishioka’s essay, he tells about a time when he was teaching at the seminary. With an overloaded schedule and commitments galore, he was beginning to look a little frayed around the edges. That’s when a friend and colleague insisted on taking him out to lunch. “It’s urgent,” she insisted. When they sat down at the table, Rodger asked what was going on. She smiled and said, “I want you to know the Messiah has come!” He was confused, to say the least. Then she told him she had even better news: “You are not him!” A wise man became a little wiser that day: “The real danger in a distorted incarnational theology is that we come to believe that if we truly are Christ’s body in the world, then if the world is going to be saved, we have to do it.”[ii] Nishioka continues,


It may be better for us to ask, not so much WWJD? but rather WWJBD? What would John the Baptist do? Lately, I have been challenging myself and my students to be more like John the Baptist—to call attention to Jesus Christ and then to say to all who are within hearing distance, ‘Hey, look! See! God is alive. God is in our midst. The Holy Spirit is at work in us and through and for us and even in spite of us! Behold! The Lamb of God![iii]



Wise words, indeed!  As baptized believers, we do house God’s Spirit. But for every ounce of the divine running through our veins, there’s a pound of flesh that will readily lead us in the wrong direction. That, for me, is one of the most important reasons we need each other. We need the community to help shore us up when we are weak and to remind us, no matter what is going on, God is alive. God is in our midst. We need to be reminded who we are and whose we are because there are plenty of naysayers who will gladly try to convince us there’s no way we can make a difference in a world so full of pain and brokenness. Yet, if all we do is stand with John the Baptist and point a finger toward Jesus—with what we say—with how we behave—with how we respond when life takes a surprising turn—then we have done a great thing.



Today, as a church, we install a new class of ruling elders. They will join others on Session to help lead our church toward the life and light of the Messiah, who takes away the sins of the world. Together, we will pray and study and listen and then, with all the faith and hope and love we can muster, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we will try to do what John the Baptist would do—point people toward God. “Hey, look! See! God is alive. God is in our midst. The Holy Spirit is at work in us and through and for us and even in spite of us! Behold! The Lamb of God!”[iv]


[i] Rodger Nishioka, Feasting on the Word, 262.

[ii] Ibid, 264.

[iii] Ibid.

[iv] Ibid.

*Cover Art by Meister von Gracanica; Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons


Chosen by God

Chosen by God

Rev. Dr. Glenda Hollingshead; January 12, 2020

Baptism of the Lord

Isaiah 42:1-9; Acts 10:34-48


Through the prophet Isaiah, we hear words of hope as God claims a servant, in whom he delights, to humbly, steadfastly, bring justice to the nations. The same God who spread out the earth, gave breath and spirit to the people upon it, now declares a new thing is on the horizon. God’s chosen One will open eyes, set prisoners free, and dispel the darkness. And just who is this quiet, unassuming servant through whom God will bring about justice and liberation?  It is a much-debated question!  In Hebrew Scripture the servant is often the nation of Israel. To complicate matters, the servant may also have a mission TO the nation of Israel.  In this case, the servant is called by God to bring to the nations the covenant revealed to the Israelites through Moses and championed by the prophets. God’s servant is to bring justice, not by brute force, but gently, quietly, with care and concern for those who are bruised and weak. New things are afoot! 



The Book of Isaiah is quoted more than 100 times in the New Testament. Susan Ackerman notes that Isaiah is so highly esteemed by the church fathers that they refer to it as their 5th Gospel.  And by the 4th century, Jerome writes, “[Isaiah] should be called an evangelist rather than a prophet because he describes all the mysteries of Christ and the Church so clearly that you would think he is composing a history of what has already happened rather than prophesying about what is to come.” By the Middle Ages, Isaiah is regarded as the prophet of the Passion. By the Reformation, the book’s emphasis on the “word of our God” becomes crucial to Martin Luther. In the 18th and 19th centuries, Christian missionary societies identify with the universal message of Isaiah. More recently, liberation theologians celebrate Isaiah’s prophetic mandate for peace.



Isaiah, beautifully written, complex in theology, has been used for great good. It has also been used for great harm. Anti-Semitic interpreters over the centuries have cited Isaiah to condemn Judaism as a whole. One has gone so far as to even compare Jews to Sodomites-hardly a message of reconciliation! It interpret Isaiah in a manner that uses it against other nations, to “lord it over them,” if you will, goes back to the question of “who is chosen?” as well as “does being chosen come with special privileges?” That way of thinking misses the point entirely. What is the message of God that we read, particularly in Isaiah 42?  God is sending a servant to bring forth JUSTICE to the nations—and this servant will be so humble as to not break a bruised reed. In other words, he will be gentle. The chosen one will serve the purposes of God and bring salvation to the ends of the earth.



It turns out that being chosen is not proof of superiority and entitlement!  It is proof of servant hood. But that is not the way of things in the early church. Insiders and outsiders, those who are chosen and those who are not, were designations alive and well in the early church. (And I might add, still alive and well in many places). But, as God says through the prophet Isaiah, former things have come to pass and new things I now declare, before they spring forth I tell you of them. God is about to bring about change, painting with vibrant strokes of color a “new thing.”



Which brings us to our reading from Acts. Earlier in the chapter, Cornelius, a low-ranking Roman military officer, who fears God and prays constantly, has a vision in which an angel instructs him to send to Joppa for Simon Peter. About noon the next day, Peter, too, has a mystical experience—falling into a trance. In a vision he sees the heavens open and a large sheet descends holding a host of unclean animals. When Peter is instructed to eat, he refuses because he has never eaten anything profane or unclean. The voice responds, “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” This happens three times. Afterward, Peter wakes to Cornelius’ men knocking on his door. Peter goes to Cornelius, hears his story, and is amazed when he realizes that God shows no partiality.



Cornelius, an outsider, has a vision of an angel of God telling him to send for Simon Peter, an insider. Peter, a disciple of Jesus Christ who has witnessed the good works of his Lord, as well as his crucifixion, and resurrection, also has a vision—one that changes his world forever. Let us be clear: neither Cornelius nor Peter act on their own. They are players in a drama being directed by someone far greater than themselves. The script of this drama is being written by God and as William Willimon suggests, it’s difficult to tell if this story is about the conversion of a gentile or the conversion of an apostle.  “The real hero of the story,” writes Willimon, “is not Peter nor Cornelius but the gracious and prodding One who makes bold promises and keeps them, who finds a way even in the midst of human distinctions and partiality between persons.”



So, God reveals a new thing to Peter, and, in response, Peter preaches the good news. What is the good news that he preaches?  First, Peter declares that God shows no partiality. Peter has learned that anyone who fears God and does what is right is acceptable to God. Cornelius, a Gentile, is accepted by God because of his faith—his ethnicity has no bearing. Second, God has the power to change people. In fact, the whole point of Peter’s vision is that God can “make clean” those who are unclean. God sees that the human condition needs change and God sends Jesus—the change agent to confront all that is wrong so that hope can be restored. In his sermon, Peter essentially sums up the ministry of Jesus: Upon his baptism, Jesus is anointed with the Holy Spirit and his earthly ministry begins. Jesus does good and heals the oppressed. Even when he is hanged on a tree and all seems lost, God is victorious, raising his Son from the dead on the third day.



Finally, Peter points out that the evidence of Jesus’ resurrection is not made known to all. Only those chosen by God as witnesses eat and drink with Jesus. And those who are chosen are given no special privileges. Instead, they are chosen to serve the purposes of God as they testify to the people that through Jesus Christ, the forgiveness of sins is now available to everyone.



Biblical scholar, Andrew H. Bartelt, asserts: In the baptism of Jesus, he is announced to be the one in whom God delights and through whom all righteousness will be fulfilled. Here God is doing a new thing greater than all former things and still in anticipation of something yet to come…. That we might claim a role as humble messengers of this justice and heirs to the very identity of God’s people Israel is our …“new thing,” accomplished through our baptism into the life, death and resurrection of this same Jesus.



Matthew 3:13-17

Commentary on Gospel by Mark Allan Powell

The Gospel lesson for this day presents the second of seven pericopes in Matthew’s Gospel dealing with John the Baptist:

  • 3:1-12 the ministry of John is reported
  • 3:13-17 John baptizes Jesus
  • 9:14-15 John’s disciples ask why the disciples of Jesus don’t fast
  • 11:2-15 John questions Jesus’ identity and Jesus speaks of John’s role
  • 14:1-12 John is murdered by Herod
  • 17:10-13 Jesus speaks of John following the Transfiguration
  • 21:23-27 Jesus refers to John when his own authority is questioned

A study of these texts reveals that John is an unusually significant figure in this Gospel; he is very much the forerunner of Jesus, to the point that the content of his preaching is word-for-word identical with that of Jesus (cf. 3:2; 4:17) and is echoed in apostolic proclamation as well (10:7). Matthew understands John to be a bridge figure between the old covenant and the new – he brings the era of promise to a close and initiates a new era of fulfillment. The story in today’s text presents a “passing of the baton” from John to Jesus.


John tries to prevent Jesus from being baptized. Why? Many Christians have probably thought it is because his baptism was one of “repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (see Mark 1:4) and, so, would have been superfluous for the sinless Jesus. But such thinking may be foreign to Matthew. John was calling Israel to repentance and, though individuals might have personal peccadillos to confess (3:6), the primary focus was probably on the sins of the nation. Jesus and others were baptized by John to symbolize a new birth for that nation, a cleansing for the people of God.


John’s objection to baptizing Jesus is related to a difference in status. John recognizes Jesus to be the “more powerful” one, the one he has been talking about for some time (3:11). John himself stands in need of what Jesus has to offer: a greater baptism of Spirit and fire (3:11); this is probably what he means when he says, “I need to be baptized by you” (3:14). John’s water baptism is one of repentance, which prepares the way for the messianic judgment that establishes God’s righteousness. Jesus’ response picks up on precisely that theme: they must do what is proper to “fulfill all righteousness” (3:16). These are the first words that Jesus speaks in Matthew’s Gospel and the saying is a bit mysterious. We may at least gather that God has a plan for making everything right and that Jesus is committed to being obedient to that plan. Why did he have to be baptized? That’s a minor question. The big one is, why did he have to die on a cross? Matthew grants that neither makes sense from a human point of view: thus, John tries to prevent Jesus’ baptism and Peter tries to prevent Jesus’ death (16:22).


The real focus of this story, however, is on the descent of the dove and, especially, the voice from heaven. Matthew’s Gospel is, of course, about God—every Gospel text in the Series A lectionary is about God—but most of the time God is in the background. People talk about God, and the thoughts of God are often revealed through prophets or angels or through references to scripture, which is “the word of God” (15:6). But there are only two texts in Matthew in which God actually speaks directly, as a character in the story (3:13-17; 17:1-9). One is read on the Baptism of Our Lord, the first Sunday in the Epiphany season; the other is read on the Transfiguration of Our Lord, the last Sunday in the Epiphany Season. These weeks we call Epiphany are literally framed by two divine pronouncements. What’s really interesting is that both times that God chooses to speak aloud from heaven, God says almost exactly the same thing: Jesus is God’s beloved Son and God is pleased with Jesus (3:17; 17:5).


The single most important thing that Matthew’s Gospel wants to say about Jesus is this: Jesus is the Son of God. This is the confession that gives birth to the church (see 16:16-19). It is hidden truth that must be revealed by the father in heaven (11:25-27; 16:17). Why is this so important? For Matthew, the divine sonship of Jesus is what establishes him as one in whom God is present (1:23). But hasn’t God been present in people before – kings, judges, prophets? No, not like this. God is present in Jesus in an absolute sense, so much so that people worship Jesus (see Matt 2:11; 8:2; 9:18; 14:33; 15:25; 20:20; 21:16; 28:9, 17; in all these verses the Greek word is proskyne´ō. Radically monotheistic Jews who believe that people should worship no one—no prophet, no king, no spirit, no angel, not even the messiah—no one but the Lord Yahweh (see Matt 4:10) are now worshiping Jesus. How is that okay? Matthew would say, because Jesus is the Son of God, and God is so present in him that worshiping Jesus counts as worshiping God.


The season of Epiphany focuses on the worship of Jesus, in whom God is made manifest to us. The revelation of his glorious divine sonship begins with baptism – the revelation to the world began with the baptism of Jesus and the revelation to us typically begins with our baptism. Some such analogy was no doubt intended by Matthew: when we are baptized, we too receive the Spirit and we too are identified as beloved children of God. We are baptized with Christ and into Christ, so that God’s plan of righteousness might be fulfilled in us and through us.



Contributor Profile

Mark Allan Powell

Professor of New Testament
Trinity Lutheran Seminary
Columbus, OH

How then shall we live; we who have been chosen, through our baptism, to further the plan of God?  We who have been chosen, not through any goodness of our own, but through the act of a gracious God who has chosen us for a life of service—how then shall we live?  How can we be change agents, participants in God’s reconciling work, in our little corner of the world? How can we share the message that God shows no partiality, all can be forgiven, all can be made clean, all are welcome at the Table of Grace?



It may start with wonder as we learn to blanket our words and actions with prayer. It may start small: choosing to refrain from gossiping and complaining, offering a hand to someone in need, sending a card to someone we haven’t seen in a while, taking the time to listen to a person who is in pain, or making a much needed phone call. It may start here in our church when God provides new avenues for learning, worshiping, and service. It may start at home with more words of kindness and compassion for our children, our parents, our spouse. No matter how it starts, it must start!  It has already started in each believer who is equipped by the Spirit to be an instrument of change in a world that is desperate to hear the good news of Christ our Lord. Amen.


*Cover Art by Ira Thomas; used by permission