Isaiah

We serve a God who's working through time to bring about His will and ultimately our good. We see the evidence of His sovereignty in the book of Genesis with the life of Joseph. To know and understand the story of Joseph is to get a glimpse into the very heart of God and to be assured that we can trust His plan. Now Joseph remains in prison after being falsely accused by Potiphar's wife. We learned last week that God's favor rested on Joseph, which resulted in his being in charge of the other prisoners. Two of the prisoners under his care were Pharaoh's cupbearer and baker. These two men had dreams that Joseph was able to successfully interpret. In exchange for the interpretations, Joseph asked that the cupbearer would remember him to Pharaoh so he could get out of prison. But the cupbearer forgot about Joseph, and so he remains a prisoner. Joseph must once again choose to trust God and cling to the hope that he has a plan. Morning. Thanks for being here and online. It's great to be with you all. My name's Doug Bergeson, and I'm a partner here at Grace. It's been one day shy of exactly a year since I last preached, so I hope I'm not too rusty. I was asked to speak this past April, but had to decline as I was having a full hip replacement. I only mention that because, and I didn't anticipate it was going to be dark, but if you had seen me spring up on stage, you would have reacted, wow, what quickness, what energy, what, for lack of a better word, cat-like agility. Though I looked like a janky, wrinkled, liver-spotted 64-year-old on the outside, on the inside, I'm now literally bionic, mostly titanium and advanced ceramics. So I just thought that was important for you to know. But getting back to not having preached for a year, I am clearly not the only one who was worried that I was going to be a little rusty. Now, I need to be careful here. I'm flattered and privileged to have been asked to speak. However, over a seven-week sermon series covering 26 chapters in the book of Genesis, Nate has asked me to speak on one verse, Genesis 41.1. Not one chapter, one verse. What's up with that? Now, not what I'd call a ringing endorsement or an unwavering vote of confidence, right? 26 chapters over seven weeks, and I get one verse. Not that anyone would be petty enough to count, but in a series in which Nate will preach on 872 verses, I've been asked to preach on one. And to be perfectly honest, that's not even that good a verse. This is what it says. When two full years passed, Pharaoh had a dream. You tell me, am I overacting? I don't think so. Thank goodness I have a phenomenally large ego, or else I might have been easily devastated by such an obvious slight. A lesser, weaker person, perhaps one humbler and more grounded, probably would have been. Frankly, I don't know what to say about this verse. I don't have much to add. So, and I know this is a little unusual, I'll read Genesis 41.1 one more time, and then I'm going to ask Steve and the band to come back up and lead us in worship for the remainder of the time. Now, for those of you who know me, when I said I had nothing to add, you immediately knew I was kidding. I always have something to add, even when I don't. However, this morning, I hope and pray I do have something to add and that it's helpful. In preparing for this morning and thinking about what I might have to add, I ran across a quote from Howard Hendricks who was a former pastor and professor of theology who passed away several years ago. Hendricks said, it is not too difficult to be biblical if you don't care about being relevant. It's not difficult to be relevant if you don't care about being biblical. But if you want to be both biblical and relevant in your teaching, it's a very difficult task indeed. So as we continue this week to move through one of the greatest stories in the Bible, Joseph from the book of Genesis, That is my goal, to be both biblical and relevant. And to begin, I'd like to open us in prayer using the Apostle Paul's words from his letter to the churches in and around Ephesus, written while he was in prison. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give us the spirit of wisdom and revelation so that we may know him better. Amen. Those two words, wisdom and revelation, are going to be key for us this morning. Wisdom, according to the Bible, is acknowledging and submitting to the fact that God is God and that we are not. And revelation is the process by which God makes something known that was previously secret or unknown. Although God can reveal things to us in other ways, such as through nature, the primary way he chose to reveal things to us is through his written word, the Bible. Now, for most of us who call ourselves Christians, that's not a very controversial statement. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, of course. The Bible is God's revelation to us. In fact, most Christians I've met or read or listened to hold the Bible in high regard and would make that claim without question. Yet it is also my experience that many of us, including me, who make that claim, take our eye off the ball a little bit and lose sight of just what it means for the Bible to be God's revelation to us. How do we take our eye off the ball? How do we lose sight of what it means for the Bible to be God's primary way of communicating and revealing himself to humankind? Well, we do it in a variety of ways. One popular method is by making Scripture primarily about us. How do I lead a good life? How do I raise my kids? How do I handle this or that problem? How do I have a God-centered marriage? Et cetera, et cetera. Now, don't get me wrong. Those aren't bad things to seek and to want to know. They just aren't the primary things, the first things we need to know. Another way we lose sight of what it means for the Bible to be God's revelation is when we make it say what we think it should say or what we want it to say. It's an easy and not uncommon thing to do. Happens all the time in churches. We interpret things a certain way, emphasize some things at the expense of others, ignore or downplay the historical, cultural, literary, and or biblical context of a passage to shape its meaning. When we do that, we read Scripture through our lens rather than God's. And that's not okay. Not if we profess the Bible to be God's revelation, God's word to us. This is no small point. What makes scripture the most valuable thing we will ever read is that it is God telling us about himself. This is who I am. This is what I'm like. This is what's important to me. This is how I operate. This is what I intend to do, and this is how I'm going to do it. It is God's take on things, his revelation, his perspective, his lens. The Bible is also history, but not any old history, not history for history's sake, but a very special history for, again, it's God's take on history, what he deems important, what he thinks we should know. And that is what gives Scripture authority over our lives. It is God's revelation of himself, his purposes, and his plans. Given that, the first question we should always ask ourselves when we read the Bible, the very first question is, what is this passage revealing to me about God? I'll say that again. When we read the Bible, the first question we should be asking ourselves is, what is this telling me about God? My favorite commentary series is the NIV application commentary. As I can't say it any better, I quote, there is nothing more fundamental to biblical revelation than the picture of God that it offers. If we set aside the picture of God affirmed in the text, we have lost our last foothold of authority, unquote. So, despite having been given only one verse, the reason I was still so excited to preach and so looking forward to this morning is that the story of Joseph has few, if any, equals in so clearly and powerfully revealing two giant things we need to know about our God. The first is that he's going to do what he intends to do, what he says he's going to do. And the second is that he's going to do it his way, not our way. Now let's turn back to our story and see the picture of God that it reveals and what it might mean for us today. As a quick recap, way back in time, long before Joseph, humankind had fallen into sin and self-destruction by choosing to reject their creator, the one and only true God, and the world was a complete mess. God began his magnificent plan to forgive, redeem, and restore fallen humanity by choosing one guy to whom God made a most lavish and unconditional promise. To this one guy, a man named Abraham, God promised land, a multitude of descendants who would become a great nation, and that through Abraham's offspring, all peoples in the world would be blessed. The remarkable promise was affirmed to Abraham's son Isaac, and again to his son Jacob. And this is where we are introduced to Joseph, the 11th of 12 sons born to Jacob and Jacob's absolute favorite. We meet Joseph when he is 17 and quickly learn that Jacob's unconcealed love and favor for Joseph, evidenced in part by a fancy robe, have poisoned the waters between Joseph and his older brothers. It probably didn't help that Joseph had given an unflattering report to his father about his brothers and the crummy job they were doing tending the flocks. And if that wasn't enough dysfunction for one family, and apparently it wasn't, Joseph thought it might be a good idea to share with everyone two separate dreams he had which both foretold of a time when the entire family would bow down to him. Scripture matter-of-factly states that his brothers hated him all the more. Imagine that. So the next time Joseph visited his brothers in the countryside, they conspired to kill him. At the very moment they were deciding Joseph's fate, a caravan of merchants heading to Egypt approached their camp. And the brothers had a brainstorm, kind of like a V8 moment. Rather than kill Joseph and deal with all that guilt, why not just sell him to these merchants and make a little cash to boot on the side? As an aside, the text seems to imply that you feel better about yourself and a lot less guilty if you simply sell a sibling into slavery rather than actually killing him. Just something to think about for those of you not getting along with all your brothers and sisters. Anyways, that's what they did. They sold Joseph, and they took his fancy robe, dipped it in goat's blood, and convinced their father that Joseph had been torn to pieces by a wild animal. The story continues with remarkable twists and turns, wild ups and downs for Joseph. He's first sold into Egypt to Potiphar, Pharaoh's captain of the guard. And when his new master sees that the Lord is with him and gives him success in everything he does, Joseph is put in complete charge and entrusted with all that Potiphar owned. But when, out of loyalty to Potiphar and fidelity to God, Joseph refuses the repeated advances of Potiphar's wife, she falsely accuses him of assault and he is thrown into prison. But once again, the Lord is with Joseph, this time prompting the prison's warden to eventually place Joseph in charge of the entire prison and all of its prisoners. Later, when the chief cupbearer and the chief baker both offend Pharaoh and are tossed in jail, they are attended by none other than Joseph. While in custody, both officials have disturbing dreams the very same night. When he heard the cupbearer's dream, Joseph explained that in three days, the cupbearer would be restored to his former position. And Joseph asked that when that happened, for the cupbearer to please remember him and plead his innocence before Pharaoh. Upon hearing such an upbeat interpretation for the cupbearer, the chief baker asked Joseph about his dream and was told that in three days Pharaoh would cut off his head and impale his body on a tree. Not as upbeat. Three days later, everything happened just as Joseph had said, and now, starting with the last verse of Genesis 40, we come to today's scripture. The chief cupbearer, however, did not remember Joseph. He forgot him. When two full years had passed, Pharaoh had a dream. So just halfway through our story, it's becoming increasingly clear that what God is revealing to us about himself, what he deems of tip-top importance for us to know, is that he's going to do what he says he's going to do no matter what. And he's going to do it his way, not our way. So that begs the question, the big question for us this morning, what is God's way of doing things? What does His way look like in practice? For starters, not like anything you or I would dream up. Steeped in mystery and far beyond our full comprehension, God's way uses people and circumstances which make little sense to us and which we would never choose. Operating according to his own timetable, God could pretty much care less about ours. Actively at work in all human decision and action, both good and evil, God's way by its very design frustrates and confounds human wisdom, intuition, and preference. And as an added kicker, not only won't we necessarily understand how God is at work in any given situation, oftentimes it won't even be obvious that he's working at all. Today's scripture may be short, but it is packed with significance as it illustrates God's way in action, focusing on the following three short snippets of text. The cupbearer forgot, two full years passed, Pharaoh had a dream. We see three defining features of God's way of doing things. All three are inextricably linked, all are shrouded in mystery, all are beyond our full understanding. And all are woven together in a way that ultimately and inevitably accomplish what God wants done. The first snippet of text, The Cupbearer Forgot, highlights the upside-down, counterintuitive nature of how God works. My first reaction is, what? The cupbearer forgot about Joseph? Are you kidding me? How is that helpful? Joseph did everything right. How is that fair? Yet almost without exception, we see in the story of Joseph and throughout all of Scripture, God's overwhelming preference to use people and circumstances that defy the odds and confound human wisdom and logic, devastating and demoralizing turns of events, great sorrows, constant obstacles and roadblocks, deeply flawed characters, good punished while evil seems to thrive, conflict, jealousy, forgotten obligations, in parentheses, see cupbearer. The list goes on. of the crummy circumstances that God seems to relish. Although we don't know all the reasons, Scripture does explain that God operates this way to humble us and to disabuse us of any notion that we deserve the credit, to make it perfectly clear that it is He who is responsible. He is the one in charge, and it is He who is at work. In 1 Corinthians 1, two full years past, illustrates what might be the most vexing and frustrating feature of God's way of doing things, his timing. It's now been 13 years since Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery. By all accounts, Joseph has done the right thing at every turn. It's even been obvious to those closest to him and in the best position to know yet here joseph still sits in prison and now when the tides of fortune finally appear to be moving in joseph's favor and he at last has an important advocate to plead his innocence before pharaoh the cupbearer completely forgets about Joseph, who then remains in prison for two more years. It's enough to want to pull your hair out, particularly if you're Joseph. But again, rather than being the exception, Joseph's experience with God's timing is more the rule in Scripture. Over and over again, we see periods of waiting, periods of silence, periods of struggle and sorrow, periods of absence and denial, periods of the wilderness, periods in exile. These occur on a grand global scale, as well as in the smallness and intimacy of individual lives and families. In the Bible, God reveals himself to be both a promise maker and a promise keeper. But just as we see with his magnificent promise to Abraham, which won't reach its complete fulfillment for another 2,000 years in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Bible is really a story of the land in between. That time between promise and fulfillment, often very long. This is where the story of Joseph takes place. This is where God operates. And to further compound the mystery and complexity of God's timing, just as with his promise to Abraham, many of God's promises unfold over time, with some elements fulfilled sooner, while other elements of the very same promise must wait. We tend to focus on the ending and are anxious for its resolution. God, on the other hand, is all about playing the long game and is infinitely more patient, knowing that to achieve what he has ordained and promised, there is simply no substitute for the land in between. If given the chance, we would skip right past this land, avoiding its mystery, its uncertainty, its challenges, its obstacles, its disciplines, its heartbreak, disappointments. It's waiting. We hate wandering in the wilderness. I'm sure Joseph did too. Yet God's redemptive purposes don't happen without it. It's in the land in between that God shapes and changes us, redeems and refines us, preparing us for and moving us towards the ultimate promise fulfillment that will be eternity within. The third and final snippet of text is Pharaoh had a dream. And as we'll see next week, the dream prompts the cupbearer to finally remember Joseph. Was that just lucky that the Pharaoh had this dream? A coincidence? A bit of good fortune finally for Joseph? Not according to the Bible. This might be the most mysterious feature of how God operates. The scripture reveals that God sustains his creation and is involved and exerts his sovereign influence and control over all things. In so doing, God moves all of history steadily, inexorably, towards his appointed end. To be completely candid, even as I speak about it this morning, I struggle with this notion that God is involved in exerting his influence and control in and over all things. On the lighter side, I've been around church long enough to have heard the story of the person who, when going to Bible study on a rainy Wednesday morning, was late and praised God that a parking spot opened up right near the front door just as they pulled up. Isn't God great? Oh, all I can do is roll my eyes. Really? I don't want to be overly cynical, but come on. What about poor Sally who got there early and had to park all the way around the block and is now stopping wet? Was God judging her? Does he not favor and love her too? Is God really involved to that level of detail? But on a more serious note, what about all the terrible and tragic, unfair and absolutely evil things that happen in the world and sometimes in our lives? How can a just and loving God be involved in those things too? Now my go-to default answer has always been to ascribe all the bad things to the fact that we live in a fallen world, a world in which, for the time being, God accommodates the presence of evil and everything doesn't happen according to his will. But when I read the story of Joseph and reflect on the full testimony of scripture, I know my default answer is too simple, a bit too cut and dried. Our tendency is to want to attribute to God only the good things that happen and give him a pass on the bad things, explaining them away by saying it's a fallen world. However, God doesn't ever ask us for a pass. He doesn't need or want a pass from us. We might not intend to, but when we think he needs a pass, we shortchange and underestimate his mystery and his sovereignty. Rather than needing a pass, the story of Joseph affirms the picture of a God who is in control of all things and uses his influence in all things, even very bad and sinful things, to advance his redemptive plan. Very early on in the Bible, God is revealing that there is no human choice or decision that can derail what he intends on doing. In fact, we see God using those sinful choices to further rather than frustrate his plans. Scripture leaves the clear impression that more than simply allowing bad things to happen to Joseph, God is actively orchestrating, arranging, and in a sense, cooperating with those things. Joseph is only 17 when he is sold by his brothers, and he is 30 before things start turning around for him. Yet all those intervening events, conspiracy to murder, sold into slavery, framed and falsely accused, wrongly convicted, imprisoned, forgotten, all are woven together to bring us to this point in our story. The Bible teaches both God's sovereignty as well as human responsibility for our thoughts and actions. Now, if you find that difficult to reconcile, how can God be involved and in control and yet hold us accountable? If you can't tell where God's influence ends and human responsibility begins, if you find it even a bit frustrating that you can't fully understand or that it seems unfair, Scripture has a clear and consistent answer for you. Tough. Tough. I am God and you are not. It's of ironic, as we like to think we live in the age of science and enlightenment, but how enlightened are we really? As difficult as this idea might be for us to wrap our minds around, our modern minds around, it wasn't for Genesis' original audience, the Israelites. They didn't struggle with trying to figure out when, where, how, and if God intervened in human affairs. They did not think things unfolded naturally and that only on occasion, if at all, God might supernaturally intervene. Rather, they understood that things only happen naturally, like rain in its season, because God ordained it. In their worldview, nothing happened independently from God's cause and effect. Events and decisions were never either natural or supernatural, but always both and. Our way of looking at the world would seem odd and naive and perhaps even heretical to the Israelites, as if there was some dividing line between the natural and divine. They wouldn't spend much time trying to figure out if God was involved in a particular situation or not because they knew he was always involved somehow, some way. That doesn't mean that God and nature are one. They're not. But only that God is involved all the time. So we see in these three short snippets of text, the cupbearer forgot. Two full years passed. Pharaoh had a dream. God is revealing the mysterious and confounding methods, means, and timing of how he goes about accomplishing his purposes and plans. Reflecting on this, I was reminded of a Hertz car rental commercial from the 1990s. It opens with two businessmen, one an executive and his junior assistant, hustling out of a crowded airport. The boss says to his assistant, we've got to move fast, Kirby. I hope you've booked Hertz. Kirby replies, not exactly, but this company is fast. The boss asks, as fast as Hertz? Not exactly, but they do have a special place to pick up the car. Like Hertz? Not exactly, but it'll be waiting. Under a canopy with the keys in it? Not exactly, but they do have a special place to pick it up. Protected from the weather? Not exactly. The final scene is of the two men in their suits running to their car in the pouring rain. And the boss asks, counting on that promotion, Kirby? No, not exactly. I still love that commercial, even though I messed it up there, and have adapted it to the story of Joseph and what it means about God's way of working. Are we always going to understand what God is doing in our lives and how he's doing it? Not exactly. Is God concerned that everything makes sense to us? Not exactly. Does God care if everything seems fair? Not exactly. Does God want everything to go smoothly for us, avoiding obstacles and challenges that might confuse and discourage us? Not exactly. Doesn't God prefer to use mostly A-teamers, people who seem to have their acts together, rather than the weak, the flawed, and the foolish? Not exactly. Does God care if we're super busy or in a big hurry and have important things to do? Not exactly. Is God involved in control of only the good things in our lives? Not exactly. There is a sweeping passage from the book of Isaiah which captures in poetic language what the story of Joseph reveals and affirms so powerfully through story. Reading from the prophet Isaiah, chapter 55. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. He says, So God's thoughts are not our thoughts. His ways are not our ways. They are higher, better, eternal. And God's word that goes out from his mouth will not return to him empty, but will accomplish all that he intended and achieve the purpose for which he sent it. So when God says he's going to do something, he's going to do it. So why is this so important? Why should this matter to us today? Because God still works this way. Seeing the mysterious and perplexing way he operated in the life of Joseph, we should not be surprised when God operates that way in our lives. Why is this important? Why should this matter to us today? Because we live in the land in between. God's redemptive plan is ongoing, still somewhere between promise and fulfillment. I was raised in a church which taught that once you placed your faith and trust in Jesus Christ, that you were saved, sort of past tense, and you were pretty much good to go. I've since come to believe, based on a fuller reading of scripture, that's not really true. More accurately, I'm in the process of being saved. While now free from the penalty of sin, which Jesus bore on the cross on my behalf, the fullness of God's promise still lies in the future. When not only will the penalty of sin have been paid, but the very power and presence of sin and death will be vanquished, and we will be resurrected to new life. But for the time being, we are in the land in between, and God is still working in all things for good as he moves all of history towards his appointed end. Why is this so important? Why should this matter to us today? Because it frees us to trust in him. When we finally stop trying to fit God in a box that we can understand, when we stop foisting our expectations and preferences on him, when we finally accept the fact that we won't understand what he's doing most of the time, why he's doing it, or how it might possibly be good or redemptive, it's actually easier to let go, easier to trust, easier to rest in the knowledge that God's got this. In closing, we will never understand God's ways, how he operates to accomplish his purposes, but we don't need to, as he is always faithful and always true to his word. And like so many people of faith down through the ages, we can find great comfort and confidence knowing and trusting in that. Even Jesus' disciples had no clue what was happening or why at the end of Jesus' ministry and were completely overwhelmed and distraught at his death. Only later were they able to look back and understand that God was in control all along. The disciples explicitly acknowledged this when they prayed the following words. Indeed, Herod and Pontius Pilate met together with the Gentiles and the people of Israel in this city to conspire against your holy servant Jesus, whom you anointed. They did what your power and will had decided beforehand should happen. God, they only did what your power and will had decided beforehand should happen. In just a minute, the band is going to come back up here to perform a song, Promise Keeper. It's an absolutely gorgeous song, and as our closing prayer, and I'd like to ask you to bow your heads and close your eyes, I'm going to read a few stanzas of unfolding, with everything I've seen, how could I not believe? You are a promise keeper. Your word will never fail. My heart can trust you, Jesus. I won't be overwhelmed. I'll see your goodness in the land of the living. I'll see your goodness right here, right now. You know the ending before the beginning, and I know that you have worked all things out. Amen. Thank you.

My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. This is the last week in our series called The Songs We Sing, where we're looking at some of the songs we sing as a congregation, finding them in Scripture and allowing that Scripture to imbue them with a greater purpose. To finish up the series, because of the timing of it, I wanted to do a Christmas song. And so I'll tell you the Christmas song we're going to do here in a little bit, but I thought it would be appropriate as we launch forward into December and all the things that we have waiting for us post Thanksgiving. Hopefully you got your house decorated yesterday. Our house was decorated in early November, so early that I asked Jen, can we please not put the wreaths out so our neighbors don't think we're crazy? So those are going out today. I've been listening to Christmas music since November the 1st. That's the rule in our house. And if you don't like it, you can shove it because that's what we do and that's what we like. And so I'm very, very ready for Christmas. But as we move into Christmas, there's something that I want to hit on and talk about that I mention every Christmas season, and this morning we're just going to rest there because I feel like it's good and appropriate, and you'll see why probably halfway through the sermon, but I also feel like God was in the direction and the theme of the message this week. Because I write these three weeks in advance, and I wrote this without knowing all that would happen this week. But I remember very vividly the Christmas that changed all Christmases. I remember the Christmas that was a clear delineation of, yeah, Christmas will never be again what it once was. I remember that Christmas. Growing up, Christmas was wonderful. It was magical. I don't know what your traditions are, what you do in your family for us. Now, sometimes we had to go to Florida and see my dad's side of the family and my step-grandpa and grandma and my weird cousins, and that wasn't as fun. You just did it. That's a family thing. That's where I started to learn that sometimes you do things for family, even though you don't want to, and you don't like them, and they don't like you, but we're going to perpetuate this for 30 years. So that's what I learned from that side of the family. But for the other side of the family, man, it was magical. So we would go every Christmas Eve, I think after service, I don't know, to Mama and Papa's house. I'm Southern, and so those are my grandparents' names. We would go to Mama and Papa's house, and we would have Christmas Eve dinner, and then we would open up all the presents from all the families, all the aunts and uncles. My mom has two sisters and a brother, so there's four kids, and then all their kids. I think I had five cousins and then different spouses through the years and things like that. So it was a big, full house, very fun. I've told you before that my Papa, I would be the Grinch, and he would be the sleigh, and we would sneak into the room and steal Mama's presents. It was very, very fun. And then we would go home. Santa would come, wake up the next morning. What does Santa bring us? We were allowed to pick our favorite toy, go back over to Mama and Papa's house. And we would spend the whole day there, leftover lunch. And the adults would play games. The kids would run around. It was super, super fun. And my Papa was the hub of all of this. He was the glue. He was the big, huge personality, so magnanimous and magnetic that everyone was drawn to him. Everybody loved him. And I always felt like I was his favorite because I was, and he told me so. But everybody loved Pawpaw. And then in the fall of 2000, when I was 19 years old, he had a massive heart attack and he passed away. And as Christmas approached, there was the sense in our family, and I guess it was amongst the children, the aunts and uncles, where they just said, you know, I'm just not sure if we're going to be able to make it through a normal Christmas at Mama and Papa's house. So maybe we should figure something else out. Because that Christmas was coming up and we all knew it was going to be hard. And so they decided in their infinite wisdom, you know what let's do? Instead of going to Mama and Papa's house, let's go to breakfast at the Ritz in downtown Atlanta. I think maybe Buckhead. Let's go to the Ritz-Carlton. They have a really good Christmas brunch breakfast. It's going to be great. And so that's what we decided to do. So I wake up Christmas morning and I shower. I've never showered on Christmas in my whole life. What am I doing? I would stumble out of bed, go down the stairs. What does Santa bring me? I'll perpetuate this as long as you need me to. If it gets me presents, what did Santa bring me? And then, you know, you'd go to Mama and Papa's house, but I'm just putting on some combination of sweats that I find probably on the floor of my room. I'm not getting dressed. I'm going with a hat on or bedhead. I'm not like doing my hair. And now all of a sudden I'm showering. And then I'm buttoning buttons. Who buttons buttons on Christmas? What a drag that is. You're supposed to be comfortable on Christmas. And I get all dressed up and we go down to the Ritz. And the Ritz is so nice that it feels like we don't belong there. It feels like someone's going to ask us to leave. Like a couple of weeks ago, I've got a good buddy who is, he works at one of the nicer country clubs in the area. And I played a round of golf with him, and then I had an elder meeting, and I needed to get the golf stink off of me, so he said, hey, I'll sneak you into the men's locker room. You can take a shower over there. So the whole time I'm taking a shower in the men's locker room, I'm just, I'm scared. Like, I'm hoping that nobody is going to ask me my member number, and they're going to ask me to leave because I don't have the net worth to shower with that water. Like I was, I was nervous. And so the whole time it was kind of like that sense the whole time we're at the Ritz, I'm afraid someone's going to come up to us and be like, I'm sorry, you're going to have to go eat with the poors. You guys can't be in here. It was just too nice. It was weird and it was rigid and I hated it. But I knew at that Christmas that Christmas would never be the same again, and it hasn't been. We have our own kids now. They understand the miracle and the majesty and the magic of Christmas, and it's fun again to see it through their eyes, and that joy is returning. But for me, that was the Christmas that marked the last really good Christmas. It was also the Christmas that taught me this. Christmas, and all that we're about to embark on, is a joyful season. It's good. It's magical. It's fun. I love going outside in the morning and making bacon and the steam is coming off the blackstone and I'm holding my mug and there's steam coming out of that and there's steam coming off of my breath. I like the wintertime. I like how Christmas time kind of ushers in that sense of winter. I like the decorations. I love the music. I love the themes that we do here at the church. I look forward to family jammy day every year. We all wear our Christmas jammies. I'm in for all of it. I love the parties, the elder party, the staff party, the other parties. I love them. It's great. Let's do all the Christmas stuff. Christmas is a joyful season. But that Christmas taught me that Christmas is a joyful season, but not for everyone every season. Christmas is a joyful season, but not for everyone every season. That year taught me that for some of us, Christmas is hard. And so as a pastor, I never want to move through a December with the hooray and the praise and the joy and the exuberance and't we all happy, and isn't this the best, and isn't this wonderful? And not acknowledge that for some in our faith family, no, this season is not wonderful. And some of you, I know some circumstances, some are unknown to me, but I know that some of you are facing hard Christmases. Some of you are looking at a Christmas that isn't going to be the same. You're looking at a Christmas and there's going to be an empty seat at the table. It's going to be hard. You're walking into Christmas and it's a reminder. Not of what you have. But of what you don't have. Of dreams crushed. Marriages shattered. Children prayed for but not yet received. I know those Christmases. For some of us, Christmas, this time of year, is a reminder of what we've loved and lost, of what we've yearned for and not been given, of what we've had and has been broken. And so we never want to move through a Christmas season without acknowledging that for some of us, some seasons, Christmas is hard. So if that's you this season, then this morning is for you. And I believe this song is for you. The song we're focused on this morning, if you have a bulletin, the cat's already out of the bag, is O Come Emmanuel. O Come Emmanuel. And I put this here, I was trying to decide between O Holy Night and O Come Emmanuel because I think O Holy Night might just be the best song lyrically that's ever been written. And Aaron gently told me, we're not doing that twice. Okay. We're not, we're not going to do that here. And then again on Christmas Eve. So you got to pick. So I went with O Come Emmanuel. That was it. That was a whole thought process because I do love this song and I do think it's, it's really lyrically rich and important. And I think it's a great Christmas song. If you're not familiar with it, you will be by the end of the service today, I promise you. But most of us probably know that. What I did not know about O Come Emmanuel is how sad it is, how much the song languishes, how much it expresses this yearning, not, oh, Jesus, come because we want to celebrate you, but Jesus, come because we need you, because this place is broken and life is hard. I live in a world where bad things happen to good people and it doesn't make sense, so Jesus, please come. What I did not know is that it is steeped in scripture and it is absolutely the anthem for those of us for whom Christmas is hard this year or in future years. So I want to show you what I mean. I'm going to read you the lyrics where if you Google O Come Emmanuel, you'll find a bunch of verses and stanzas, a bunch of lyrics. And so it's kind of like, which ones are we going to sing? So I had to ask Aaron, our worship pastor, which one are we doing? He told me which one. And we're singing three verses in there. And so from just those three verses, I want you to see how much scripture is packed into the words that we're going to sing here at the close of the service. So the first verse of O Come, Emmanuel goes like this. I'm not going to sing it to you. O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears. So I want you to see first and foremost that the whole name of the song, and this isn't going to be on the screen, is O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. And that comes directly from Isaiah chapter 7, verse 14. And if you have the notes, if you have the bulletin, you want to write that down, you can check my references. But that comes from Isaiah 7, verse 14, where it's the end of a long messianic prophecy. I'm probably going to say messianic prophecy a couple of times in the sermon. That simply means an Old Testament prophecy that is about Jesus, the Messiah. So it's a messianic prophecy. And the conclusion of that, it tells us all these things about Jesus and who he's going to be. And then at the end, he says, and his name will be called Emmanuel, which means God with us. It might be the most remarkable name of Jesus because it captures within it the truth that he came down from heaven. He condescended and took on flesh and became like man, became man to be with us. Emmanuel captures who Jesus was and is. So first we see from the very first line that it's pulled right out of Isaiah chapter 7. And then with the rest of it about ransom captive Israel, that comes from Isaiah 35 10. And it's there at the bottom of the screen. Those who have been ransomed by the Lord will return. They will enter Jerusalem singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Sorrow and mourning will disappear and they will be filled with joy and gladness. So the author of this song, the writer of this song pulls this right out of this prophecy in Isaiah 35 where he refers to Jesus as the ransomed of the Lord. He comes to pay the ransom, or he refers to us as the ransomed, and he is the payment for that ransom. And there's an allusion here in the verse that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears. In this verse of the song, we see this languishing and this anguish of the nation of Israel crying out to God, God, we don't belong here. There's something not right here. Will you please come and get us? Will you please come and pay our ransom? We are enslaved and we are in another nation in which we don't belong. And when we see the nation of Israel referred to in Scripture, it does and often is referring to the actual physical nation of Israel and the citizens of that nation, but it is also almost always referring to the children of God and those who believe in God. So the church, you and me, if we have placed our faith in Christ, and so this resonates with us. We resonate with the words in Isaiah 35 that God is coming to ransom us, that we feel like they feel, that we don't belong here. We are in lonely exile. There has to be something more than this place. There has to be something more than this world that you have to offer. Would you take me from here and bring me to heaven? It's a cry for us to be relieved of this. And then we move into the next verse that we're going to sing. It goes like this, O come thou day spring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here. Disperse the gloomy clouds of night and death's dark shadows put to flight. This is taken from the end of Luke chapter 1, verses 78 and 79. What a long chapter. Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death and to guide us to the path of peace. So we see again, the author of the song pulls directly out of Luke, and he puts to song the expression of these verses at the end of the prophecy in Luke chapter 1. Oh, come thou dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here. They are saying, we are sad, We are depressed. Life is hard. This is a bad Christmas for us. We feel broken. It's right there in the words. Come cheer our spirits. We need you. By thine advent here. Clouds cover my vision and blot out my hope. I feel in the depths of despair, Emmanuel, come. Please come, O day spring, and cheer us and disperse these clouds. The last verse. O come, desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of, straight out of Scripture, straight out of Haggai, the desire of the nations. Other translations have it as the treasure of the nations, but I like this one better. This is King James. I like the desire of the nations. Whether you know it or not, whether you realize it or not, if this is your first Sunday in church, your soul has longed for Jesus your whole life. He is the desire of you, the desire of me, the desire of all the nations. And I love the titling here in that verse. And then the prayer is that he would bid thou our sad division cease and be thyself our king of peace, taken right out of the classic Christmas story in Luke chapter 2 beginning in verse 13 and suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and goodwill towards men. This is the gift of Jesus that he brings peace and so so the prayer in the song of come Emmanuel is, would you please bring peace and would our sad divisions cease? It's the understanding that when Jesus shows up, he's going to heal things and bring peace with us. It's the understanding that when Jesus shows up, I don't know if you've thought about this, but when Jesus shows up, he will demolish and abolish. What's the word I'm looking for? Different denominations. He will demolish and abolish denominations. There will be no more Presbyterians. Praise Jesus. We will all, we will all of us, do you know this? We will all be Pentecostal. We will be. We'll be filled with the Spirit. We'll be cheering. We'll be going nuts. The Pentecostals in the end, they're going to win. I'm telling you. There will be no more Baptists. That's not going to happen. No more Catholics. They can drop it with the robes. None of that stuff. He's going to demolish denominations because we don't need those. Those divide us. He's going to heal our family wounds. Some of y'all, your Christmas is going to be tough. And it's not going to be tough because you've lost someone. It's going to be tough because that someone's still sitting there. And they're hard to get along with. And someone that I love very much has taught me that hurt people hurt people. And me and him know that because we hurt each other often. But we always reconcile very quickly. Some of us, there's division, there's hardship in our families. And it's not because the people in your families are bad. It's because hurt people hurt people. And they don't know how to heal themselves. More than likely the ship has sailed on that healing. So they just need grace. And when Jesus comes, he's going to heal them so that they can love you perfectly as Jesus loves them. This prayer, this song is a prayer that Jesus would come and he would heal our divisions. That what's happening in the Gaza Strip would not happen anymore. That warring cultures would find peace and love with one another. That hurting families would be healed and be able to love one another well. That his own body, the church, would knock it off with the divisions and the denominations and would come together, finally answering Jesus' prayer of unity in John 17. That's what this song is for. And so if you sit down with the words of O Come, Emmanuel, what you see is that it's a song of pain. It's a song of languishing. It's a song of hardship. And what we learn from this song is that a right and good response to despair is to long for the return and redemption of Jesus. That's what this song teaches us. That a right and good response to despair is to long for the return and the redemption of Jesus. That when something happens that we can't explain, it's right and good and biblical to say, come Lord Jesus, we need you. That's why I went through the pains of showing you all the verses that are expressed in this song that says over and over again, oh, come, Emmanuel, oh, come, Emmanuel, oh, come, thou dayspring, oh, come, desire of nations, all different names of Jesus. Jesus, come, we need you. When something happens that's hard, that we don't understand, that wrecks us, it's a right, good, biblical, righteous response to say, Lord Jesus, come. This Monday morning, this last week, like a lot of you here, I woke up to a text from Julie Sauls. Julie is on staff with us and does a little bit of everything. Howard is her faithful husband and a good friend to a lot of us. And I woke up to a text that he had had a stroke at about 4 a.m. He had been rushed to the ER and then rushed to another ER. That he was in surgery. There was 100% blockage in his carotid artery. And that they did not know. They didn't know. They didn't know if he was going to make it. They didn't know if he was going to be okay if he did make it. They didn't know what recovery might look like. They didn't even know what was happening in the surgery room. They just knew that he was there and it was serious. And if you don't know Howard, and I hesitate to say this because it's going to get back to, and I'll have to own up to it. This is for him. That's the only reason I'm wearing this stupid-looking tar heel on myself. He's a big fan. Jules, if you and Howard are watching the hospital, here you go, pal. And don't tell him this next part. If you don't know Howard, it's to your detriment. He's one of the good ones. Genuinely good. What I always say about Howard is whenever there's something happening at the church, some function, and things need to be done, if you try to figure out the crappiest job, Howard's already doing it. That's Howard. He's a good man. He's far too young to be having strokes. And as Jen and I were talking on Monday, Lily, our daughter, who's nearly eight, could just sense that something was up. So she started asking questions. And in the best way we could, we tried to explain to her what a stroke was and what that meant, what the potential road ahead for Mr. Howard was going to be. And Jen asked Lily, do you remember what Mr. Howard says to you every week when you come to church? And she responded, every week, as Lily and the family are walking down the sidewalk, most of the time Howard's outside, and when he sees her, he always says, Lily. And she acts embarrassed, but she loves it. And Jen said, do you remember what Mr. Howard says to you? And she said it. And when she said it, I just kind of got up and I hid my face from Lily. And I put my face on Jen's shoulder and I cried. And I told her, I really hate my job sometimes. Because I don't want to be the person that has to bring comfort here. Because I don't know how to do that. Because that morning, we didn't know if Howard was okay. I didn't know if I'd ever hear my friend's voice again. I didn't know if his kids would get to hear him say their name again. If Julie would ever hug him again. I didn't know. And I didn't want to have to be the pastor to come back here and be like, well, there's a reason for everything. So I cried. And we're thankful to know that there was just been a slow trickle of good news since then. Howard's doing well. He's moving both sides of his body, starting to speak. We're praying for a full recovery. He's gaining on it bit by bit. And there are others here who have walked that same path. And we know it's hard. And so I'm glad that he's doing better and I'll tell you what else I'm glad about. Jen went to see Julie and Mackenzie, his daughter, yesterday at the hospital. And Julie was choking up, bragging about you guys, about how this church has shown up for them, about how we have loved on them. And it just makes me so proud to be a pastor of a church that does that. I tell everybody I can, we've got the best church ladies in the business. But in the middle, I'm trying to compose myself so that Lily didn't see me crying. I remembered that I was preaching this on Sunday. I remembered that God put it here. And I remembered that it was okay to not feel like I had to be the agent of comfort. That it was okay instead to be able to respond with my church, oh come, oh come, Emmanuel. Jesus, please come. Please come and end this stuff. Please come and make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. Please come so that I don't have to answer questions. I got a question this morning. It's the question to ask. I saw somebody, very first thing out of their mouth, why do bad things happen to good people? Brother, I don't know. And we're not going to know. We can ask that question all we want. I'll just tell you as a pastor, there's no answer to that. We're not going to know this side of eternity. I know that if I were God, I would mess it up, but bad things wouldn't happen to good people. But when we get to eternity, we're going to know why they do. On this side of eternity, I don't know. What I do know is that it is right and good and biblical and righteous when we hurt to say, Jesus, come. Just stop this pain. Stop these wars. Stop cancer. Knock it off with the empty chairs at the dinner table. Heal the people who hurt us. Jesus, come. This place isn't right. This world doesn't fit. I know that this isn't what you want, God. Send your son to redeem us, to get us again. Jesus, come. It's right and good in pain and in disappointment and in loss and in loneliness and in despair and in depression, to not have an answer for it, to not see a silver lining, to simply throw your hands up and put your head down and say, Jesus, please come and rescue this. It's a mess. Please come. That's what this song is. God, it's a mess. Please come. Send your son. Rescue us. Fix this. Let us exist in your perfect peace. Jesus, come. It's a right and good response to despair. And here's why this song is a Christmas song. Because Christmas reminds us that Jesus has come and instills hope that he will do it again. That's what Christmas is. Christmas reminds us every year Jesus has come. And because of that it instills hope that he will come again. Every year we acknowledge Jesus did come. He did come as a baby, meek and humble and lowly. He did come in a manger to a Virgin Mary and to a father, Joseph. He did arrive in Bethlehem that day. He was taken back to Nazareth. He did live a perfect life and die a perfect death. He did come. God did keep his promise that he made to Abraham 4,000 years prior that the nation of Israel clung to generation after generation as they are subjected to judges and terrible kings and slavery and being drug away from their nation. And they see the temple being built and they see it being torn down and they see it rebuilt again and they weep because it's a shadow of what it was. Through all of that, God was with them and God kept his promise. And we see God keeping his promise in the beginning of the gospels and the Christmas stories. And that's what we celebrate, that God kept his promise and he sent his son. So Christmas reminds us that Jesus has already been here. He came. God did what he said he would do. And because he did, because we saw that promise fulfilled after 4,000 years of waiting, we know that he will keep it again one day too. And we can cling to that promise. That's what being a Christian is. It's believing that it was Jesus who did come in a manger that day, that he did die on the cross, that he did go to prepare a place for us, and one day, we don't know when it will be, but one day he will come crashing back through the clouds and he will claim us and he will make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. We know that to be true. To be a Christian is to cling to that hope. And so sometimes that hope gets covered over by the clouds of night. Sometimes circumstances make our tether to that hope fragile and thin. Sometimes things happen that we don't understand that we'll never be able to explain. And when they do, we cling to that hope that Jesus will come again and we say, do it soon, Lord. Do it soon. That's what we sing when we sing, O come, Emmanuel. That's what we celebrate when we celebrate Christmas. Jesus did come, and because I believe he did, I know that he will again. That's what Christmas reminds us of. So even if this Christmas is a hard one for you, we have this song, this anthem to declare. And the good news about this song is, it's not just the bad stuff. Oh, come, Jesus, it's hard here. The chorus is rejoice. Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel. Rejoice, oh, rejoice, because he's coming again. He came for you and he will come again. Rejoice, rejoice. We have reason to rejoice. And so here's the invitation. In a few minutes, we're going to sing this song together. If this Christmas is hard for you, I want you to declare this. To throw up your hands and to put down your head and to say, Jesus, come. This is hard. Come. And choose to rejoice in that truth. Here's the other thing. If you're in a good season, and this Christmas is a good one, you're blessed, and you're happy, and you're joyful. And you have all the things and all the people around you that you want to have around you, and you're looking forward to a truly joyful Christmas season. Wonderful. Here's what I want to ask you to do. I want you to sing. I want you to sing as loud as you can, because I want you to be the voice for people who can't muster that voice this morning. If they don't have the strength to sing, let them hear you singing. For those of us that don't have the voice to rejoice yet, let's let our church family carry us with their voice to God's throne as we declare this. So we're going to do that in a few minutes together. But before we do that, we're going to have communion together. Because we thought it would be right and good and appropriate to finish up this series and usher in the Christmas series by doing communion together as a church. Communion is one of the traditions that Jesus himself started. At the Last Supper, the night he was arrested, yeah, the elders can come forward and start to set things up. At the Last Supper, the night he was arrested, Jesus took bread and he broke it. And he handed it to the disciples and he says, this is my body that's broken for you. And then he took the wine and he poured it. And he says, this is my blood that spilled out for you. Every time you do these things, I want you to do them in remembrance of me. And so churches through the millennia have observed communion. The body, the bread is God's body that was broken for us. After he lived a perfect life, he died a perfect death. The blood, the juice is the blood that was spilled out for us in that perfect death. And in celebrating communion, we acknowledge that to live sometimes is to suffer. But Jesus took on the greatest suffering on the cross. He became suffering for us so that one day we would have to suffer no more. He is the Prince of Peace and He did keep the promises and He will fulfill them again, and we see the depiction of that on the cross as He suffers for us so that we don't have to. He didn't come to just be a baby and live a life. He came to die that death. And so it's good for us to acknowledge that here too. So here's what I'm going to ask you to do. I'm going to invite you to stand and then we're going to pray together and then we'll take communion and then we're going to close the service out with O Come Emmanuel and then we'll go into our weeks. Father, thank you for communion. Thank you for sending your son who became Emmanuel, God with us. Thank you for the perfect life that he lived. Thank you for the death that he died for us. Lord, as we prepare our hearts to take communion, I just pray that we would allow you to do work within us, to rid us of what doesn't need to be there, to infuse us with what does. God, I lift up those for whom this Christmas is going to be challenging. I pray that they would take this song and this desire for you to return as their anthem that would encourage them through this season. God, we lift up Howard as he recovers. Be with him in that recovery. We lift up the other people in our church who are hurting now. We hurt with them and you hurt with them and we pray that you would heal them too. God, we pray all of these things in the name of your son, Emmanuel. Amen.

My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. This is the last week in our series called The Songs We Sing, where we're looking at some of the songs we sing as a congregation, finding them in Scripture and allowing that Scripture to imbue them with a greater purpose. To finish up the series, because of the timing of it, I wanted to do a Christmas song. And so I'll tell you the Christmas song we're going to do here in a little bit, but I thought it would be appropriate as we launch forward into December and all the things that we have waiting for us post Thanksgiving. Hopefully you got your house decorated yesterday. Our house was decorated in early November, so early that I asked Jen, can we please not put the wreaths out so our neighbors don't think we're crazy? So those are going out today. I've been listening to Christmas music since November the 1st. That's the rule in our house. And if you don't like it, you can shove it because that's what we do and that's what we like. And so I'm very, very ready for Christmas. But as we move into Christmas, there's something that I want to hit on and talk about that I mention every Christmas season, and this morning we're just going to rest there because I feel like it's good and appropriate, and you'll see why probably halfway through the sermon, but I also feel like God was in the direction and the theme of the message this week. Because I write these three weeks in advance, and I wrote this without knowing all that would happen this week. But I remember very vividly the Christmas that changed all Christmases. I remember the Christmas that was a clear delineation of, yeah, Christmas will never be again what it once was. I remember that Christmas. Growing up, Christmas was wonderful. It was magical. I don't know what your traditions are, what you do in your family for us. Now, sometimes we had to go to Florida and see my dad's side of the family and my step-grandpa and grandma and my weird cousins, and that wasn't as fun. You just did it. That's a family thing. That's where I started to learn that sometimes you do things for family, even though you don't want to, and you don't like them, and they don't like you, but we're going to perpetuate this for 30 years. So that's what I learned from that side of the family. But for the other side of the family, man, it was magical. So we would go every Christmas Eve, I think after service, I don't know, to Mama and Papa's house. I'm Southern, and so those are my grandparents' names. We would go to Mama and Papa's house, and we would have Christmas Eve dinner, and then we would open up all the presents from all the families, all the aunts and uncles. My mom has two sisters and a brother, so there's four kids, and then all their kids. I think I had five cousins and then different spouses through the years and things like that. So it was a big, full house, very fun. I've told you before that my Papa, I would be the Grinch, and he would be the sleigh, and we would sneak into the room and steal Mama's presents. It was very, very fun. And then we would go home. Santa would come, wake up the next morning. What does Santa bring us? We were allowed to pick our favorite toy, go back over to Mama and Papa's house. And we would spend the whole day there, leftover lunch. And the adults would play games. The kids would run around. It was super, super fun. And my Papa was the hub of all of this. He was the glue. He was the big, huge personality, so magnanimous and magnetic that everyone was drawn to him. Everybody loved him. And I always felt like I was his favorite because I was, and he told me so. But everybody loved Pawpaw. And then in the fall of 2000, when I was 19 years old, he had a massive heart attack and he passed away. And as Christmas approached, there was the sense in our family, and I guess it was amongst the children, the aunts and uncles, where they just said, you know, I'm just not sure if we're going to be able to make it through a normal Christmas at Mama and Papa's house. So maybe we should figure something else out. Because that Christmas was coming up and we all knew it was going to be hard. And so they decided in their infinite wisdom, you know what let's do? Instead of going to Mama and Papa's house, let's go to breakfast at the Ritz in downtown Atlanta. I think maybe Buckhead. Let's go to the Ritz-Carlton. They have a really good Christmas brunch breakfast. It's going to be great. And so that's what we decided to do. So I wake up Christmas morning and I shower. I've never showered on Christmas in my whole life. What am I doing? I would stumble out of bed, go down the stairs. What does Santa bring me? I'll perpetuate this as long as you need me to. If it gets me presents, what did Santa bring me? And then, you know, you'd go to Mama and Papa's house, but I'm just putting on some combination of sweats that I find probably on the floor of my room. I'm not getting dressed. I'm going with a hat on or bedhead. I'm not like doing my hair. And now all of a sudden I'm showering. And then I'm buttoning buttons. Who buttons buttons on Christmas? What a drag that is. You're supposed to be comfortable on Christmas. And I get all dressed up and we go down to the Ritz. And the Ritz is so nice that it feels like we don't belong there. It feels like someone's going to ask us to leave. Like a couple of weeks ago, I've got a good buddy who is, he works at one of the nicer country clubs in the area. And I played a round of golf with him, and then I had an elder meeting, and I needed to get the golf stink off of me, so he said, hey, I'll sneak you into the men's locker room. You can take a shower over there. So the whole time I'm taking a shower in the men's locker room, I'm just, I'm scared. Like, I'm hoping that nobody is going to ask me my member number, and they're going to ask me to leave because I don't have the net worth to shower with that water. Like I was, I was nervous. And so the whole time it was kind of like that sense the whole time we're at the Ritz, I'm afraid someone's going to come up to us and be like, I'm sorry, you're going to have to go eat with the poors. You guys can't be in here. It was just too nice. It was weird and it was rigid and I hated it. But I knew at that Christmas that Christmas would never be the same again, and it hasn't been. We have our own kids now. They understand the miracle and the majesty and the magic of Christmas, and it's fun again to see it through their eyes, and that joy is returning. But for me, that was the Christmas that marked the last really good Christmas. It was also the Christmas that taught me this. Christmas, and all that we're about to embark on, is a joyful season. It's good. It's magical. It's fun. I love going outside in the morning and making bacon and the steam is coming off the blackstone and I'm holding my mug and there's steam coming out of that and there's steam coming off of my breath. I like the wintertime. I like how Christmas time kind of ushers in that sense of winter. I like the decorations. I love the music. I love the themes that we do here at the church. I look forward to family jammy day every year. We all wear our Christmas jammies. I'm in for all of it. I love the parties, the elder party, the staff party, the other parties. I love them. It's great. Let's do all the Christmas stuff. Christmas is a joyful season. But that Christmas taught me that Christmas is a joyful season, but not for everyone every season. Christmas is a joyful season, but not for everyone every season. That year taught me that for some of us, Christmas is hard. And so as a pastor, I never want to move through a December with the hooray and the praise and the joy and the exuberance and't we all happy, and isn't this the best, and isn't this wonderful? And not acknowledge that for some in our faith family, no, this season is not wonderful. And some of you, I know some circumstances, some are unknown to me, but I know that some of you are facing hard Christmases. Some of you are looking at a Christmas that isn't going to be the same. You're looking at a Christmas and there's going to be an empty seat at the table. It's going to be hard. You're walking into Christmas and it's a reminder. Not of what you have. But of what you don't have. Of dreams crushed. Marriages shattered. Children prayed for but not yet received. I know those Christmases. For some of us, Christmas, this time of year, is a reminder of what we've loved and lost, of what we've yearned for and not been given, of what we've had and has been broken. And so we never want to move through a Christmas season without acknowledging that for some of us, some seasons, Christmas is hard. So if that's you this season, then this morning is for you. And I believe this song is for you. The song we're focused on this morning, if you have a bulletin, the cat's already out of the bag, is O Come Emmanuel. O Come Emmanuel. And I put this here, I was trying to decide between O Holy Night and O Come Emmanuel because I think O Holy Night might just be the best song lyrically that's ever been written. And Aaron gently told me, we're not doing that twice. Okay. We're not, we're not going to do that here. And then again on Christmas Eve. So you got to pick. So I went with O Come Emmanuel. That was it. That was a whole thought process because I do love this song and I do think it's, it's really lyrically rich and important. And I think it's a great Christmas song. If you're not familiar with it, you will be by the end of the service today, I promise you. But most of us probably know that. What I did not know about O Come Emmanuel is how sad it is, how much the song languishes, how much it expresses this yearning, not, oh, Jesus, come because we want to celebrate you, but Jesus, come because we need you, because this place is broken and life is hard. I live in a world where bad things happen to good people and it doesn't make sense, so Jesus, please come. What I did not know is that it is steeped in scripture and it is absolutely the anthem for those of us for whom Christmas is hard this year or in future years. So I want to show you what I mean. I'm going to read you the lyrics where if you Google O Come Emmanuel, you'll find a bunch of verses and stanzas, a bunch of lyrics. And so it's kind of like, which ones are we going to sing? So I had to ask Aaron, our worship pastor, which one are we doing? He told me which one. And we're singing three verses in there. And so from just those three verses, I want you to see how much scripture is packed into the words that we're going to sing here at the close of the service. So the first verse of O Come, Emmanuel goes like this. I'm not going to sing it to you. O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears. So I want you to see first and foremost that the whole name of the song, and this isn't going to be on the screen, is O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. And that comes directly from Isaiah chapter 7, verse 14. And if you have the notes, if you have the bulletin, you want to write that down, you can check my references. But that comes from Isaiah 7, verse 14, where it's the end of a long messianic prophecy. I'm probably going to say messianic prophecy a couple of times in the sermon. That simply means an Old Testament prophecy that is about Jesus, the Messiah. So it's a messianic prophecy. And the conclusion of that, it tells us all these things about Jesus and who he's going to be. And then at the end, he says, and his name will be called Emmanuel, which means God with us. It might be the most remarkable name of Jesus because it captures within it the truth that he came down from heaven. He condescended and took on flesh and became like man, became man to be with us. Emmanuel captures who Jesus was and is. So first we see from the very first line that it's pulled right out of Isaiah chapter 7. And then with the rest of it about ransom captive Israel, that comes from Isaiah 35 10. And it's there at the bottom of the screen. Those who have been ransomed by the Lord will return. They will enter Jerusalem singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Sorrow and mourning will disappear and they will be filled with joy and gladness. So the author of this song, the writer of this song pulls this right out of this prophecy in Isaiah 35 where he refers to Jesus as the ransomed of the Lord. He comes to pay the ransom, or he refers to us as the ransomed, and he is the payment for that ransom. And there's an allusion here in the verse that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears. In this verse of the song, we see this languishing and this anguish of the nation of Israel crying out to God, God, we don't belong here. There's something not right here. Will you please come and get us? Will you please come and pay our ransom? We are enslaved and we are in another nation in which we don't belong. And when we see the nation of Israel referred to in Scripture, it does and often is referring to the actual physical nation of Israel and the citizens of that nation, but it is also almost always referring to the children of God and those who believe in God. So the church, you and me, if we have placed our faith in Christ, and so this resonates with us. We resonate with the words in Isaiah 35 that God is coming to ransom us, that we feel like they feel, that we don't belong here. We are in lonely exile. There has to be something more than this place. There has to be something more than this world that you have to offer. Would you take me from here and bring me to heaven? It's a cry for us to be relieved of this. And then we move into the next verse that we're going to sing. It goes like this, O come thou day spring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here. Disperse the gloomy clouds of night and death's dark shadows put to flight. This is taken from the end of Luke chapter 1, verses 78 and 79. What a long chapter. Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death and to guide us to the path of peace. So we see again, the author of the song pulls directly out of Luke, and he puts to song the expression of these verses at the end of the prophecy in Luke chapter 1. Oh, come thou dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here. They are saying, we are sad, We are depressed. Life is hard. This is a bad Christmas for us. We feel broken. It's right there in the words. Come cheer our spirits. We need you. By thine advent here. Clouds cover my vision and blot out my hope. I feel in the depths of despair, Emmanuel, come. Please come, O day spring, and cheer us and disperse these clouds. The last verse. O come, desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of, straight out of Scripture, straight out of Haggai, the desire of the nations. Other translations have it as the treasure of the nations, but I like this one better. This is King James. I like the desire of the nations. Whether you know it or not, whether you realize it or not, if this is your first Sunday in church, your soul has longed for Jesus your whole life. He is the desire of you, the desire of me, the desire of all the nations. And I love the titling here in that verse. And then the prayer is that he would bid thou our sad division cease and be thyself our king of peace, taken right out of the classic Christmas story in Luke chapter 2 beginning in verse 13 and suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and goodwill towards men. This is the gift of Jesus that he brings peace and so so the prayer in the song of come Emmanuel is, would you please bring peace and would our sad divisions cease? It's the understanding that when Jesus shows up, he's going to heal things and bring peace with us. It's the understanding that when Jesus shows up, I don't know if you've thought about this, but when Jesus shows up, he will demolish and abolish. What's the word I'm looking for? Different denominations. He will demolish and abolish denominations. There will be no more Presbyterians. Praise Jesus. We will all, we will all of us, do you know this? We will all be Pentecostal. We will be. We'll be filled with the Spirit. We'll be cheering. We'll be going nuts. The Pentecostals in the end, they're going to win. I'm telling you. There will be no more Baptists. That's not going to happen. No more Catholics. They can drop it with the robes. None of that stuff. He's going to demolish denominations because we don't need those. Those divide us. He's going to heal our family wounds. Some of y'all, your Christmas is going to be tough. And it's not going to be tough because you've lost someone. It's going to be tough because that someone's still sitting there. And they're hard to get along with. And someone that I love very much has taught me that hurt people hurt people. And me and him know that because we hurt each other often. But we always reconcile very quickly. Some of us, there's division, there's hardship in our families. And it's not because the people in your families are bad. It's because hurt people hurt people. And they don't know how to heal themselves. More than likely the ship has sailed on that healing. So they just need grace. And when Jesus comes, he's going to heal them so that they can love you perfectly as Jesus loves them. This prayer, this song is a prayer that Jesus would come and he would heal our divisions. That what's happening in the Gaza Strip would not happen anymore. That warring cultures would find peace and love with one another. That hurting families would be healed and be able to love one another well. That his own body, the church, would knock it off with the divisions and the denominations and would come together, finally answering Jesus' prayer of unity in John 17. That's what this song is for. And so if you sit down with the words of O Come, Emmanuel, what you see is that it's a song of pain. It's a song of languishing. It's a song of hardship. And what we learn from this song is that a right and good response to despair is to long for the return and redemption of Jesus. That's what this song teaches us. That a right and good response to despair is to long for the return and the redemption of Jesus. That when something happens that we can't explain, it's right and good and biblical to say, come Lord Jesus, we need you. That's why I went through the pains of showing you all the verses that are expressed in this song that says over and over again, oh, come, Emmanuel, oh, come, Emmanuel, oh, come, thou dayspring, oh, come, desire of nations, all different names of Jesus. Jesus, come, we need you. When something happens that's hard, that we don't understand, that wrecks us, it's a right, good, biblical, righteous response to say, Lord Jesus, come. This Monday morning, this last week, like a lot of you here, I woke up to a text from Julie Sauls. Julie is on staff with us and does a little bit of everything. Howard is her faithful husband and a good friend to a lot of us. And I woke up to a text that he had had a stroke at about 4 a.m. He had been rushed to the ER and then rushed to another ER. That he was in surgery. There was 100% blockage in his carotid artery. And that they did not know. They didn't know. They didn't know if he was going to make it. They didn't know if he was going to be okay if he did make it. They didn't know what recovery might look like. They didn't even know what was happening in the surgery room. They just knew that he was there and it was serious. And if you don't know Howard, and I hesitate to say this because it's going to get back to, and I'll have to own up to it. This is for him. That's the only reason I'm wearing this stupid-looking tar heel on myself. He's a big fan. Jules, if you and Howard are watching the hospital, here you go, pal. And don't tell him this next part. If you don't know Howard, it's to your detriment. He's one of the good ones. Genuinely good. What I always say about Howard is whenever there's something happening at the church, some function, and things need to be done, if you try to figure out the crappiest job, Howard's already doing it. That's Howard. He's a good man. He's far too young to be having strokes. And as Jen and I were talking on Monday, Lily, our daughter, who's nearly eight, could just sense that something was up. So she started asking questions. And in the best way we could, we tried to explain to her what a stroke was and what that meant, what the potential road ahead for Mr. Howard was going to be. And Jen asked Lily, do you remember what Mr. Howard says to you every week when you come to church? And she responded, every week, as Lily and the family are walking down the sidewalk, most of the time Howard's outside, and when he sees her, he always says, Lily. And she acts embarrassed, but she loves it. And Jen said, do you remember what Mr. Howard says to you? And she said it. And when she said it, I just kind of got up and I hid my face from Lily. And I put my face on Jen's shoulder and I cried. And I told her, I really hate my job sometimes. Because I don't want to be the person that has to bring comfort here. Because I don't know how to do that. Because that morning, we didn't know if Howard was okay. I didn't know if I'd ever hear my friend's voice again. I didn't know if his kids would get to hear him say their name again. If Julie would ever hug him again. I didn't know. And I didn't want to have to be the pastor to come back here and be like, well, there's a reason for everything. So I cried. And we're thankful to know that there was just been a slow trickle of good news since then. Howard's doing well. He's moving both sides of his body, starting to speak. We're praying for a full recovery. He's gaining on it bit by bit. And there are others here who have walked that same path. And we know it's hard. And so I'm glad that he's doing better and I'll tell you what else I'm glad about. Jen went to see Julie and Mackenzie, his daughter, yesterday at the hospital. And Julie was choking up, bragging about you guys, about how this church has shown up for them, about how we have loved on them. And it just makes me so proud to be a pastor of a church that does that. I tell everybody I can, we've got the best church ladies in the business. But in the middle, I'm trying to compose myself so that Lily didn't see me crying. I remembered that I was preaching this on Sunday. I remembered that God put it here. And I remembered that it was okay to not feel like I had to be the agent of comfort. That it was okay instead to be able to respond with my church, oh come, oh come, Emmanuel. Jesus, please come. Please come and end this stuff. Please come and make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. Please come so that I don't have to answer questions. I got a question this morning. It's the question to ask. I saw somebody, very first thing out of their mouth, why do bad things happen to good people? Brother, I don't know. And we're not going to know. We can ask that question all we want. I'll just tell you as a pastor, there's no answer to that. We're not going to know this side of eternity. I know that if I were God, I would mess it up, but bad things wouldn't happen to good people. But when we get to eternity, we're going to know why they do. On this side of eternity, I don't know. What I do know is that it is right and good and biblical and righteous when we hurt to say, Jesus, come. Just stop this pain. Stop these wars. Stop cancer. Knock it off with the empty chairs at the dinner table. Heal the people who hurt us. Jesus, come. This place isn't right. This world doesn't fit. I know that this isn't what you want, God. Send your son to redeem us, to get us again. Jesus, come. It's right and good in pain and in disappointment and in loss and in loneliness and in despair and in depression, to not have an answer for it, to not see a silver lining, to simply throw your hands up and put your head down and say, Jesus, please come and rescue this. It's a mess. Please come. That's what this song is. God, it's a mess. Please come. Send your son. Rescue us. Fix this. Let us exist in your perfect peace. Jesus, come. It's a right and good response to despair. And here's why this song is a Christmas song. Because Christmas reminds us that Jesus has come and instills hope that he will do it again. That's what Christmas is. Christmas reminds us every year Jesus has come. And because of that it instills hope that he will come again. Every year we acknowledge Jesus did come. He did come as a baby, meek and humble and lowly. He did come in a manger to a Virgin Mary and to a father, Joseph. He did arrive in Bethlehem that day. He was taken back to Nazareth. He did live a perfect life and die a perfect death. He did come. God did keep his promise that he made to Abraham 4,000 years prior that the nation of Israel clung to generation after generation as they are subjected to judges and terrible kings and slavery and being drug away from their nation. And they see the temple being built and they see it being torn down and they see it rebuilt again and they weep because it's a shadow of what it was. Through all of that, God was with them and God kept his promise. And we see God keeping his promise in the beginning of the gospels and the Christmas stories. And that's what we celebrate, that God kept his promise and he sent his son. So Christmas reminds us that Jesus has already been here. He came. God did what he said he would do. And because he did, because we saw that promise fulfilled after 4,000 years of waiting, we know that he will keep it again one day too. And we can cling to that promise. That's what being a Christian is. It's believing that it was Jesus who did come in a manger that day, that he did die on the cross, that he did go to prepare a place for us, and one day, we don't know when it will be, but one day he will come crashing back through the clouds and he will claim us and he will make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. We know that to be true. To be a Christian is to cling to that hope. And so sometimes that hope gets covered over by the clouds of night. Sometimes circumstances make our tether to that hope fragile and thin. Sometimes things happen that we don't understand that we'll never be able to explain. And when they do, we cling to that hope that Jesus will come again and we say, do it soon, Lord. Do it soon. That's what we sing when we sing, O come, Emmanuel. That's what we celebrate when we celebrate Christmas. Jesus did come, and because I believe he did, I know that he will again. That's what Christmas reminds us of. So even if this Christmas is a hard one for you, we have this song, this anthem to declare. And the good news about this song is, it's not just the bad stuff. Oh, come, Jesus, it's hard here. The chorus is rejoice. Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel. Rejoice, oh, rejoice, because he's coming again. He came for you and he will come again. Rejoice, rejoice. We have reason to rejoice. And so here's the invitation. In a few minutes, we're going to sing this song together. If this Christmas is hard for you, I want you to declare this. To throw up your hands and to put down your head and to say, Jesus, come. This is hard. Come. And choose to rejoice in that truth. Here's the other thing. If you're in a good season, and this Christmas is a good one, you're blessed, and you're happy, and you're joyful. And you have all the things and all the people around you that you want to have around you, and you're looking forward to a truly joyful Christmas season. Wonderful. Here's what I want to ask you to do. I want you to sing. I want you to sing as loud as you can, because I want you to be the voice for people who can't muster that voice this morning. If they don't have the strength to sing, let them hear you singing. For those of us that don't have the voice to rejoice yet, let's let our church family carry us with their voice to God's throne as we declare this. So we're going to do that in a few minutes together. But before we do that, we're going to have communion together. Because we thought it would be right and good and appropriate to finish up this series and usher in the Christmas series by doing communion together as a church. Communion is one of the traditions that Jesus himself started. At the Last Supper, the night he was arrested, yeah, the elders can come forward and start to set things up. At the Last Supper, the night he was arrested, Jesus took bread and he broke it. And he handed it to the disciples and he says, this is my body that's broken for you. And then he took the wine and he poured it. And he says, this is my blood that spilled out for you. Every time you do these things, I want you to do them in remembrance of me. And so churches through the millennia have observed communion. The body, the bread is God's body that was broken for us. After he lived a perfect life, he died a perfect death. The blood, the juice is the blood that was spilled out for us in that perfect death. And in celebrating communion, we acknowledge that to live sometimes is to suffer. But Jesus took on the greatest suffering on the cross. He became suffering for us so that one day we would have to suffer no more. He is the Prince of Peace and He did keep the promises and He will fulfill them again, and we see the depiction of that on the cross as He suffers for us so that we don't have to. He didn't come to just be a baby and live a life. He came to die that death. And so it's good for us to acknowledge that here too. So here's what I'm going to ask you to do. I'm going to invite you to stand and then we're going to pray together and then we'll take communion and then we're going to close the service out with O Come Emmanuel and then we'll go into our weeks. Father, thank you for communion. Thank you for sending your son who became Emmanuel, God with us. Thank you for the perfect life that he lived. Thank you for the death that he died for us. Lord, as we prepare our hearts to take communion, I just pray that we would allow you to do work within us, to rid us of what doesn't need to be there, to infuse us with what does. God, I lift up those for whom this Christmas is going to be challenging. I pray that they would take this song and this desire for you to return as their anthem that would encourage them through this season. God, we lift up Howard as he recovers. Be with him in that recovery. We lift up the other people in our church who are hurting now. We hurt with them and you hurt with them and we pray that you would heal them too. God, we pray all of these things in the name of your son, Emmanuel. Amen.

My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. This is the last week in our series called The Songs We Sing, where we're looking at some of the songs we sing as a congregation, finding them in Scripture and allowing that Scripture to imbue them with a greater purpose. To finish up the series, because of the timing of it, I wanted to do a Christmas song. And so I'll tell you the Christmas song we're going to do here in a little bit, but I thought it would be appropriate as we launch forward into December and all the things that we have waiting for us post Thanksgiving. Hopefully you got your house decorated yesterday. Our house was decorated in early November, so early that I asked Jen, can we please not put the wreaths out so our neighbors don't think we're crazy? So those are going out today. I've been listening to Christmas music since November the 1st. That's the rule in our house. And if you don't like it, you can shove it because that's what we do and that's what we like. And so I'm very, very ready for Christmas. But as we move into Christmas, there's something that I want to hit on and talk about that I mention every Christmas season, and this morning we're just going to rest there because I feel like it's good and appropriate, and you'll see why probably halfway through the sermon, but I also feel like God was in the direction and the theme of the message this week. Because I write these three weeks in advance, and I wrote this without knowing all that would happen this week. But I remember very vividly the Christmas that changed all Christmases. I remember the Christmas that was a clear delineation of, yeah, Christmas will never be again what it once was. I remember that Christmas. Growing up, Christmas was wonderful. It was magical. I don't know what your traditions are, what you do in your family for us. Now, sometimes we had to go to Florida and see my dad's side of the family and my step-grandpa and grandma and my weird cousins, and that wasn't as fun. You just did it. That's a family thing. That's where I started to learn that sometimes you do things for family, even though you don't want to, and you don't like them, and they don't like you, but we're going to perpetuate this for 30 years. So that's what I learned from that side of the family. But for the other side of the family, man, it was magical. So we would go every Christmas Eve, I think after service, I don't know, to Mama and Papa's house. I'm Southern, and so those are my grandparents' names. We would go to Mama and Papa's house, and we would have Christmas Eve dinner, and then we would open up all the presents from all the families, all the aunts and uncles. My mom has two sisters and a brother, so there's four kids, and then all their kids. I think I had five cousins and then different spouses through the years and things like that. So it was a big, full house, very fun. I've told you before that my Papa, I would be the Grinch, and he would be the sleigh, and we would sneak into the room and steal Mama's presents. It was very, very fun. And then we would go home. Santa would come, wake up the next morning. What does Santa bring us? We were allowed to pick our favorite toy, go back over to Mama and Papa's house. And we would spend the whole day there, leftover lunch. And the adults would play games. The kids would run around. It was super, super fun. And my Papa was the hub of all of this. He was the glue. He was the big, huge personality, so magnanimous and magnetic that everyone was drawn to him. Everybody loved him. And I always felt like I was his favorite because I was, and he told me so. But everybody loved Pawpaw. And then in the fall of 2000, when I was 19 years old, he had a massive heart attack and he passed away. And as Christmas approached, there was the sense in our family, and I guess it was amongst the children, the aunts and uncles, where they just said, you know, I'm just not sure if we're going to be able to make it through a normal Christmas at Mama and Papa's house. So maybe we should figure something else out. Because that Christmas was coming up and we all knew it was going to be hard. And so they decided in their infinite wisdom, you know what let's do? Instead of going to Mama and Papa's house, let's go to breakfast at the Ritz in downtown Atlanta. I think maybe Buckhead. Let's go to the Ritz-Carlton. They have a really good Christmas brunch breakfast. It's going to be great. And so that's what we decided to do. So I wake up Christmas morning and I shower. I've never showered on Christmas in my whole life. What am I doing? I would stumble out of bed, go down the stairs. What does Santa bring me? I'll perpetuate this as long as you need me to. If it gets me presents, what did Santa bring me? And then, you know, you'd go to Mama and Papa's house, but I'm just putting on some combination of sweats that I find probably on the floor of my room. I'm not getting dressed. I'm going with a hat on or bedhead. I'm not like doing my hair. And now all of a sudden I'm showering. And then I'm buttoning buttons. Who buttons buttons on Christmas? What a drag that is. You're supposed to be comfortable on Christmas. And I get all dressed up and we go down to the Ritz. And the Ritz is so nice that it feels like we don't belong there. It feels like someone's going to ask us to leave. Like a couple of weeks ago, I've got a good buddy who is, he works at one of the nicer country clubs in the area. And I played a round of golf with him, and then I had an elder meeting, and I needed to get the golf stink off of me, so he said, hey, I'll sneak you into the men's locker room. You can take a shower over there. So the whole time I'm taking a shower in the men's locker room, I'm just, I'm scared. Like, I'm hoping that nobody is going to ask me my member number, and they're going to ask me to leave because I don't have the net worth to shower with that water. Like I was, I was nervous. And so the whole time it was kind of like that sense the whole time we're at the Ritz, I'm afraid someone's going to come up to us and be like, I'm sorry, you're going to have to go eat with the poors. You guys can't be in here. It was just too nice. It was weird and it was rigid and I hated it. But I knew at that Christmas that Christmas would never be the same again, and it hasn't been. We have our own kids now. They understand the miracle and the majesty and the magic of Christmas, and it's fun again to see it through their eyes, and that joy is returning. But for me, that was the Christmas that marked the last really good Christmas. It was also the Christmas that taught me this. Christmas, and all that we're about to embark on, is a joyful season. It's good. It's magical. It's fun. I love going outside in the morning and making bacon and the steam is coming off the blackstone and I'm holding my mug and there's steam coming out of that and there's steam coming off of my breath. I like the wintertime. I like how Christmas time kind of ushers in that sense of winter. I like the decorations. I love the music. I love the themes that we do here at the church. I look forward to family jammy day every year. We all wear our Christmas jammies. I'm in for all of it. I love the parties, the elder party, the staff party, the other parties. I love them. It's great. Let's do all the Christmas stuff. Christmas is a joyful season. But that Christmas taught me that Christmas is a joyful season, but not for everyone every season. Christmas is a joyful season, but not for everyone every season. That year taught me that for some of us, Christmas is hard. And so as a pastor, I never want to move through a December with the hooray and the praise and the joy and the exuberance and't we all happy, and isn't this the best, and isn't this wonderful? And not acknowledge that for some in our faith family, no, this season is not wonderful. And some of you, I know some circumstances, some are unknown to me, but I know that some of you are facing hard Christmases. Some of you are looking at a Christmas that isn't going to be the same. You're looking at a Christmas and there's going to be an empty seat at the table. It's going to be hard. You're walking into Christmas and it's a reminder. Not of what you have. But of what you don't have. Of dreams crushed. Marriages shattered. Children prayed for but not yet received. I know those Christmases. For some of us, Christmas, this time of year, is a reminder of what we've loved and lost, of what we've yearned for and not been given, of what we've had and has been broken. And so we never want to move through a Christmas season without acknowledging that for some of us, some seasons, Christmas is hard. So if that's you this season, then this morning is for you. And I believe this song is for you. The song we're focused on this morning, if you have a bulletin, the cat's already out of the bag, is O Come Emmanuel. O Come Emmanuel. And I put this here, I was trying to decide between O Holy Night and O Come Emmanuel because I think O Holy Night might just be the best song lyrically that's ever been written. And Aaron gently told me, we're not doing that twice. Okay. We're not, we're not going to do that here. And then again on Christmas Eve. So you got to pick. So I went with O Come Emmanuel. That was it. That was a whole thought process because I do love this song and I do think it's, it's really lyrically rich and important. And I think it's a great Christmas song. If you're not familiar with it, you will be by the end of the service today, I promise you. But most of us probably know that. What I did not know about O Come Emmanuel is how sad it is, how much the song languishes, how much it expresses this yearning, not, oh, Jesus, come because we want to celebrate you, but Jesus, come because we need you, because this place is broken and life is hard. I live in a world where bad things happen to good people and it doesn't make sense, so Jesus, please come. What I did not know is that it is steeped in scripture and it is absolutely the anthem for those of us for whom Christmas is hard this year or in future years. So I want to show you what I mean. I'm going to read you the lyrics where if you Google O Come Emmanuel, you'll find a bunch of verses and stanzas, a bunch of lyrics. And so it's kind of like, which ones are we going to sing? So I had to ask Aaron, our worship pastor, which one are we doing? He told me which one. And we're singing three verses in there. And so from just those three verses, I want you to see how much scripture is packed into the words that we're going to sing here at the close of the service. So the first verse of O Come, Emmanuel goes like this. I'm not going to sing it to you. O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears. So I want you to see first and foremost that the whole name of the song, and this isn't going to be on the screen, is O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. And that comes directly from Isaiah chapter 7, verse 14. And if you have the notes, if you have the bulletin, you want to write that down, you can check my references. But that comes from Isaiah 7, verse 14, where it's the end of a long messianic prophecy. I'm probably going to say messianic prophecy a couple of times in the sermon. That simply means an Old Testament prophecy that is about Jesus, the Messiah. So it's a messianic prophecy. And the conclusion of that, it tells us all these things about Jesus and who he's going to be. And then at the end, he says, and his name will be called Emmanuel, which means God with us. It might be the most remarkable name of Jesus because it captures within it the truth that he came down from heaven. He condescended and took on flesh and became like man, became man to be with us. Emmanuel captures who Jesus was and is. So first we see from the very first line that it's pulled right out of Isaiah chapter 7. And then with the rest of it about ransom captive Israel, that comes from Isaiah 35 10. And it's there at the bottom of the screen. Those who have been ransomed by the Lord will return. They will enter Jerusalem singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Sorrow and mourning will disappear and they will be filled with joy and gladness. So the author of this song, the writer of this song pulls this right out of this prophecy in Isaiah 35 where he refers to Jesus as the ransomed of the Lord. He comes to pay the ransom, or he refers to us as the ransomed, and he is the payment for that ransom. And there's an allusion here in the verse that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears. In this verse of the song, we see this languishing and this anguish of the nation of Israel crying out to God, God, we don't belong here. There's something not right here. Will you please come and get us? Will you please come and pay our ransom? We are enslaved and we are in another nation in which we don't belong. And when we see the nation of Israel referred to in Scripture, it does and often is referring to the actual physical nation of Israel and the citizens of that nation, but it is also almost always referring to the children of God and those who believe in God. So the church, you and me, if we have placed our faith in Christ, and so this resonates with us. We resonate with the words in Isaiah 35 that God is coming to ransom us, that we feel like they feel, that we don't belong here. We are in lonely exile. There has to be something more than this place. There has to be something more than this world that you have to offer. Would you take me from here and bring me to heaven? It's a cry for us to be relieved of this. And then we move into the next verse that we're going to sing. It goes like this, O come thou day spring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here. Disperse the gloomy clouds of night and death's dark shadows put to flight. This is taken from the end of Luke chapter 1, verses 78 and 79. What a long chapter. Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death and to guide us to the path of peace. So we see again, the author of the song pulls directly out of Luke, and he puts to song the expression of these verses at the end of the prophecy in Luke chapter 1. Oh, come thou dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here. They are saying, we are sad, We are depressed. Life is hard. This is a bad Christmas for us. We feel broken. It's right there in the words. Come cheer our spirits. We need you. By thine advent here. Clouds cover my vision and blot out my hope. I feel in the depths of despair, Emmanuel, come. Please come, O day spring, and cheer us and disperse these clouds. The last verse. O come, desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of, straight out of Scripture, straight out of Haggai, the desire of the nations. Other translations have it as the treasure of the nations, but I like this one better. This is King James. I like the desire of the nations. Whether you know it or not, whether you realize it or not, if this is your first Sunday in church, your soul has longed for Jesus your whole life. He is the desire of you, the desire of me, the desire of all the nations. And I love the titling here in that verse. And then the prayer is that he would bid thou our sad division cease and be thyself our king of peace, taken right out of the classic Christmas story in Luke chapter 2 beginning in verse 13 and suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and goodwill towards men. This is the gift of Jesus that he brings peace and so so the prayer in the song of come Emmanuel is, would you please bring peace and would our sad divisions cease? It's the understanding that when Jesus shows up, he's going to heal things and bring peace with us. It's the understanding that when Jesus shows up, I don't know if you've thought about this, but when Jesus shows up, he will demolish and abolish. What's the word I'm looking for? Different denominations. He will demolish and abolish denominations. There will be no more Presbyterians. Praise Jesus. We will all, we will all of us, do you know this? We will all be Pentecostal. We will be. We'll be filled with the Spirit. We'll be cheering. We'll be going nuts. The Pentecostals in the end, they're going to win. I'm telling you. There will be no more Baptists. That's not going to happen. No more Catholics. They can drop it with the robes. None of that stuff. He's going to demolish denominations because we don't need those. Those divide us. He's going to heal our family wounds. Some of y'all, your Christmas is going to be tough. And it's not going to be tough because you've lost someone. It's going to be tough because that someone's still sitting there. And they're hard to get along with. And someone that I love very much has taught me that hurt people hurt people. And me and him know that because we hurt each other often. But we always reconcile very quickly. Some of us, there's division, there's hardship in our families. And it's not because the people in your families are bad. It's because hurt people hurt people. And they don't know how to heal themselves. More than likely the ship has sailed on that healing. So they just need grace. And when Jesus comes, he's going to heal them so that they can love you perfectly as Jesus loves them. This prayer, this song is a prayer that Jesus would come and he would heal our divisions. That what's happening in the Gaza Strip would not happen anymore. That warring cultures would find peace and love with one another. That hurting families would be healed and be able to love one another well. That his own body, the church, would knock it off with the divisions and the denominations and would come together, finally answering Jesus' prayer of unity in John 17. That's what this song is for. And so if you sit down with the words of O Come, Emmanuel, what you see is that it's a song of pain. It's a song of languishing. It's a song of hardship. And what we learn from this song is that a right and good response to despair is to long for the return and redemption of Jesus. That's what this song teaches us. That a right and good response to despair is to long for the return and the redemption of Jesus. That when something happens that we can't explain, it's right and good and biblical to say, come Lord Jesus, we need you. That's why I went through the pains of showing you all the verses that are expressed in this song that says over and over again, oh, come, Emmanuel, oh, come, Emmanuel, oh, come, thou dayspring, oh, come, desire of nations, all different names of Jesus. Jesus, come, we need you. When something happens that's hard, that we don't understand, that wrecks us, it's a right, good, biblical, righteous response to say, Lord Jesus, come. This Monday morning, this last week, like a lot of you here, I woke up to a text from Julie Sauls. Julie is on staff with us and does a little bit of everything. Howard is her faithful husband and a good friend to a lot of us. And I woke up to a text that he had had a stroke at about 4 a.m. He had been rushed to the ER and then rushed to another ER. That he was in surgery. There was 100% blockage in his carotid artery. And that they did not know. They didn't know. They didn't know if he was going to make it. They didn't know if he was going to be okay if he did make it. They didn't know what recovery might look like. They didn't even know what was happening in the surgery room. They just knew that he was there and it was serious. And if you don't know Howard, and I hesitate to say this because it's going to get back to, and I'll have to own up to it. This is for him. That's the only reason I'm wearing this stupid-looking tar heel on myself. He's a big fan. Jules, if you and Howard are watching the hospital, here you go, pal. And don't tell him this next part. If you don't know Howard, it's to your detriment. He's one of the good ones. Genuinely good. What I always say about Howard is whenever there's something happening at the church, some function, and things need to be done, if you try to figure out the crappiest job, Howard's already doing it. That's Howard. He's a good man. He's far too young to be having strokes. And as Jen and I were talking on Monday, Lily, our daughter, who's nearly eight, could just sense that something was up. So she started asking questions. And in the best way we could, we tried to explain to her what a stroke was and what that meant, what the potential road ahead for Mr. Howard was going to be. And Jen asked Lily, do you remember what Mr. Howard says to you every week when you come to church? And she responded, every week, as Lily and the family are walking down the sidewalk, most of the time Howard's outside, and when he sees her, he always says, Lily. And she acts embarrassed, but she loves it. And Jen said, do you remember what Mr. Howard says to you? And she said it. And when she said it, I just kind of got up and I hid my face from Lily. And I put my face on Jen's shoulder and I cried. And I told her, I really hate my job sometimes. Because I don't want to be the person that has to bring comfort here. Because I don't know how to do that. Because that morning, we didn't know if Howard was okay. I didn't know if I'd ever hear my friend's voice again. I didn't know if his kids would get to hear him say their name again. If Julie would ever hug him again. I didn't know. And I didn't want to have to be the pastor to come back here and be like, well, there's a reason for everything. So I cried. And we're thankful to know that there was just been a slow trickle of good news since then. Howard's doing well. He's moving both sides of his body, starting to speak. We're praying for a full recovery. He's gaining on it bit by bit. And there are others here who have walked that same path. And we know it's hard. And so I'm glad that he's doing better and I'll tell you what else I'm glad about. Jen went to see Julie and Mackenzie, his daughter, yesterday at the hospital. And Julie was choking up, bragging about you guys, about how this church has shown up for them, about how we have loved on them. And it just makes me so proud to be a pastor of a church that does that. I tell everybody I can, we've got the best church ladies in the business. But in the middle, I'm trying to compose myself so that Lily didn't see me crying. I remembered that I was preaching this on Sunday. I remembered that God put it here. And I remembered that it was okay to not feel like I had to be the agent of comfort. That it was okay instead to be able to respond with my church, oh come, oh come, Emmanuel. Jesus, please come. Please come and end this stuff. Please come and make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. Please come so that I don't have to answer questions. I got a question this morning. It's the question to ask. I saw somebody, very first thing out of their mouth, why do bad things happen to good people? Brother, I don't know. And we're not going to know. We can ask that question all we want. I'll just tell you as a pastor, there's no answer to that. We're not going to know this side of eternity. I know that if I were God, I would mess it up, but bad things wouldn't happen to good people. But when we get to eternity, we're going to know why they do. On this side of eternity, I don't know. What I do know is that it is right and good and biblical and righteous when we hurt to say, Jesus, come. Just stop this pain. Stop these wars. Stop cancer. Knock it off with the empty chairs at the dinner table. Heal the people who hurt us. Jesus, come. This place isn't right. This world doesn't fit. I know that this isn't what you want, God. Send your son to redeem us, to get us again. Jesus, come. It's right and good in pain and in disappointment and in loss and in loneliness and in despair and in depression, to not have an answer for it, to not see a silver lining, to simply throw your hands up and put your head down and say, Jesus, please come and rescue this. It's a mess. Please come. That's what this song is. God, it's a mess. Please come. Send your son. Rescue us. Fix this. Let us exist in your perfect peace. Jesus, come. It's a right and good response to despair. And here's why this song is a Christmas song. Because Christmas reminds us that Jesus has come and instills hope that he will do it again. That's what Christmas is. Christmas reminds us every year Jesus has come. And because of that it instills hope that he will come again. Every year we acknowledge Jesus did come. He did come as a baby, meek and humble and lowly. He did come in a manger to a Virgin Mary and to a father, Joseph. He did arrive in Bethlehem that day. He was taken back to Nazareth. He did live a perfect life and die a perfect death. He did come. God did keep his promise that he made to Abraham 4,000 years prior that the nation of Israel clung to generation after generation as they are subjected to judges and terrible kings and slavery and being drug away from their nation. And they see the temple being built and they see it being torn down and they see it rebuilt again and they weep because it's a shadow of what it was. Through all of that, God was with them and God kept his promise. And we see God keeping his promise in the beginning of the gospels and the Christmas stories. And that's what we celebrate, that God kept his promise and he sent his son. So Christmas reminds us that Jesus has already been here. He came. God did what he said he would do. And because he did, because we saw that promise fulfilled after 4,000 years of waiting, we know that he will keep it again one day too. And we can cling to that promise. That's what being a Christian is. It's believing that it was Jesus who did come in a manger that day, that he did die on the cross, that he did go to prepare a place for us, and one day, we don't know when it will be, but one day he will come crashing back through the clouds and he will claim us and he will make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. We know that to be true. To be a Christian is to cling to that hope. And so sometimes that hope gets covered over by the clouds of night. Sometimes circumstances make our tether to that hope fragile and thin. Sometimes things happen that we don't understand that we'll never be able to explain. And when they do, we cling to that hope that Jesus will come again and we say, do it soon, Lord. Do it soon. That's what we sing when we sing, O come, Emmanuel. That's what we celebrate when we celebrate Christmas. Jesus did come, and because I believe he did, I know that he will again. That's what Christmas reminds us of. So even if this Christmas is a hard one for you, we have this song, this anthem to declare. And the good news about this song is, it's not just the bad stuff. Oh, come, Jesus, it's hard here. The chorus is rejoice. Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel. Rejoice, oh, rejoice, because he's coming again. He came for you and he will come again. Rejoice, rejoice. We have reason to rejoice. And so here's the invitation. In a few minutes, we're going to sing this song together. If this Christmas is hard for you, I want you to declare this. To throw up your hands and to put down your head and to say, Jesus, come. This is hard. Come. And choose to rejoice in that truth. Here's the other thing. If you're in a good season, and this Christmas is a good one, you're blessed, and you're happy, and you're joyful. And you have all the things and all the people around you that you want to have around you, and you're looking forward to a truly joyful Christmas season. Wonderful. Here's what I want to ask you to do. I want you to sing. I want you to sing as loud as you can, because I want you to be the voice for people who can't muster that voice this morning. If they don't have the strength to sing, let them hear you singing. For those of us that don't have the voice to rejoice yet, let's let our church family carry us with their voice to God's throne as we declare this. So we're going to do that in a few minutes together. But before we do that, we're going to have communion together. Because we thought it would be right and good and appropriate to finish up this series and usher in the Christmas series by doing communion together as a church. Communion is one of the traditions that Jesus himself started. At the Last Supper, the night he was arrested, yeah, the elders can come forward and start to set things up. At the Last Supper, the night he was arrested, Jesus took bread and he broke it. And he handed it to the disciples and he says, this is my body that's broken for you. And then he took the wine and he poured it. And he says, this is my blood that spilled out for you. Every time you do these things, I want you to do them in remembrance of me. And so churches through the millennia have observed communion. The body, the bread is God's body that was broken for us. After he lived a perfect life, he died a perfect death. The blood, the juice is the blood that was spilled out for us in that perfect death. And in celebrating communion, we acknowledge that to live sometimes is to suffer. But Jesus took on the greatest suffering on the cross. He became suffering for us so that one day we would have to suffer no more. He is the Prince of Peace and He did keep the promises and He will fulfill them again, and we see the depiction of that on the cross as He suffers for us so that we don't have to. He didn't come to just be a baby and live a life. He came to die that death. And so it's good for us to acknowledge that here too. So here's what I'm going to ask you to do. I'm going to invite you to stand and then we're going to pray together and then we'll take communion and then we're going to close the service out with O Come Emmanuel and then we'll go into our weeks. Father, thank you for communion. Thank you for sending your son who became Emmanuel, God with us. Thank you for the perfect life that he lived. Thank you for the death that he died for us. Lord, as we prepare our hearts to take communion, I just pray that we would allow you to do work within us, to rid us of what doesn't need to be there, to infuse us with what does. God, I lift up those for whom this Christmas is going to be challenging. I pray that they would take this song and this desire for you to return as their anthem that would encourage them through this season. God, we lift up Howard as he recovers. Be with him in that recovery. We lift up the other people in our church who are hurting now. We hurt with them and you hurt with them and we pray that you would heal them too. God, we pray all of these things in the name of your son, Emmanuel. Amen.

My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. This is the last week in our series called The Songs We Sing, where we're looking at some of the songs we sing as a congregation, finding them in Scripture and allowing that Scripture to imbue them with a greater purpose. To finish up the series, because of the timing of it, I wanted to do a Christmas song. And so I'll tell you the Christmas song we're going to do here in a little bit, but I thought it would be appropriate as we launch forward into December and all the things that we have waiting for us post Thanksgiving. Hopefully you got your house decorated yesterday. Our house was decorated in early November, so early that I asked Jen, can we please not put the wreaths out so our neighbors don't think we're crazy? So those are going out today. I've been listening to Christmas music since November the 1st. That's the rule in our house. And if you don't like it, you can shove it because that's what we do and that's what we like. And so I'm very, very ready for Christmas. But as we move into Christmas, there's something that I want to hit on and talk about that I mention every Christmas season, and this morning we're just going to rest there because I feel like it's good and appropriate, and you'll see why probably halfway through the sermon, but I also feel like God was in the direction and the theme of the message this week. Because I write these three weeks in advance, and I wrote this without knowing all that would happen this week. But I remember very vividly the Christmas that changed all Christmases. I remember the Christmas that was a clear delineation of, yeah, Christmas will never be again what it once was. I remember that Christmas. Growing up, Christmas was wonderful. It was magical. I don't know what your traditions are, what you do in your family for us. Now, sometimes we had to go to Florida and see my dad's side of the family and my step-grandpa and grandma and my weird cousins, and that wasn't as fun. You just did it. That's a family thing. That's where I started to learn that sometimes you do things for family, even though you don't want to, and you don't like them, and they don't like you, but we're going to perpetuate this for 30 years. So that's what I learned from that side of the family. But for the other side of the family, man, it was magical. So we would go every Christmas Eve, I think after service, I don't know, to Mama and Papa's house. I'm Southern, and so those are my grandparents' names. We would go to Mama and Papa's house, and we would have Christmas Eve dinner, and then we would open up all the presents from all the families, all the aunts and uncles. My mom has two sisters and a brother, so there's four kids, and then all their kids. I think I had five cousins and then different spouses through the years and things like that. So it was a big, full house, very fun. I've told you before that my Papa, I would be the Grinch, and he would be the sleigh, and we would sneak into the room and steal Mama's presents. It was very, very fun. And then we would go home. Santa would come, wake up the next morning. What does Santa bring us? We were allowed to pick our favorite toy, go back over to Mama and Papa's house. And we would spend the whole day there, leftover lunch. And the adults would play games. The kids would run around. It was super, super fun. And my Papa was the hub of all of this. He was the glue. He was the big, huge personality, so magnanimous and magnetic that everyone was drawn to him. Everybody loved him. And I always felt like I was his favorite because I was, and he told me so. But everybody loved Pawpaw. And then in the fall of 2000, when I was 19 years old, he had a massive heart attack and he passed away. And as Christmas approached, there was the sense in our family, and I guess it was amongst the children, the aunts and uncles, where they just said, you know, I'm just not sure if we're going to be able to make it through a normal Christmas at Mama and Papa's house. So maybe we should figure something else out. Because that Christmas was coming up and we all knew it was going to be hard. And so they decided in their infinite wisdom, you know what let's do? Instead of going to Mama and Papa's house, let's go to breakfast at the Ritz in downtown Atlanta. I think maybe Buckhead. Let's go to the Ritz-Carlton. They have a really good Christmas brunch breakfast. It's going to be great. And so that's what we decided to do. So I wake up Christmas morning and I shower. I've never showered on Christmas in my whole life. What am I doing? I would stumble out of bed, go down the stairs. What does Santa bring me? I'll perpetuate this as long as you need me to. If it gets me presents, what did Santa bring me? And then, you know, you'd go to Mama and Papa's house, but I'm just putting on some combination of sweats that I find probably on the floor of my room. I'm not getting dressed. I'm going with a hat on or bedhead. I'm not like doing my hair. And now all of a sudden I'm showering. And then I'm buttoning buttons. Who buttons buttons on Christmas? What a drag that is. You're supposed to be comfortable on Christmas. And I get all dressed up and we go down to the Ritz. And the Ritz is so nice that it feels like we don't belong there. It feels like someone's going to ask us to leave. Like a couple of weeks ago, I've got a good buddy who is, he works at one of the nicer country clubs in the area. And I played a round of golf with him, and then I had an elder meeting, and I needed to get the golf stink off of me, so he said, hey, I'll sneak you into the men's locker room. You can take a shower over there. So the whole time I'm taking a shower in the men's locker room, I'm just, I'm scared. Like, I'm hoping that nobody is going to ask me my member number, and they're going to ask me to leave because I don't have the net worth to shower with that water. Like I was, I was nervous. And so the whole time it was kind of like that sense the whole time we're at the Ritz, I'm afraid someone's going to come up to us and be like, I'm sorry, you're going to have to go eat with the poors. You guys can't be in here. It was just too nice. It was weird and it was rigid and I hated it. But I knew at that Christmas that Christmas would never be the same again, and it hasn't been. We have our own kids now. They understand the miracle and the majesty and the magic of Christmas, and it's fun again to see it through their eyes, and that joy is returning. But for me, that was the Christmas that marked the last really good Christmas. It was also the Christmas that taught me this. Christmas, and all that we're about to embark on, is a joyful season. It's good. It's magical. It's fun. I love going outside in the morning and making bacon and the steam is coming off the blackstone and I'm holding my mug and there's steam coming out of that and there's steam coming off of my breath. I like the wintertime. I like how Christmas time kind of ushers in that sense of winter. I like the decorations. I love the music. I love the themes that we do here at the church. I look forward to family jammy day every year. We all wear our Christmas jammies. I'm in for all of it. I love the parties, the elder party, the staff party, the other parties. I love them. It's great. Let's do all the Christmas stuff. Christmas is a joyful season. But that Christmas taught me that Christmas is a joyful season, but not for everyone every season. Christmas is a joyful season, but not for everyone every season. That year taught me that for some of us, Christmas is hard. And so as a pastor, I never want to move through a December with the hooray and the praise and the joy and the exuberance and't we all happy, and isn't this the best, and isn't this wonderful? And not acknowledge that for some in our faith family, no, this season is not wonderful. And some of you, I know some circumstances, some are unknown to me, but I know that some of you are facing hard Christmases. Some of you are looking at a Christmas that isn't going to be the same. You're looking at a Christmas and there's going to be an empty seat at the table. It's going to be hard. You're walking into Christmas and it's a reminder. Not of what you have. But of what you don't have. Of dreams crushed. Marriages shattered. Children prayed for but not yet received. I know those Christmases. For some of us, Christmas, this time of year, is a reminder of what we've loved and lost, of what we've yearned for and not been given, of what we've had and has been broken. And so we never want to move through a Christmas season without acknowledging that for some of us, some seasons, Christmas is hard. So if that's you this season, then this morning is for you. And I believe this song is for you. The song we're focused on this morning, if you have a bulletin, the cat's already out of the bag, is O Come Emmanuel. O Come Emmanuel. And I put this here, I was trying to decide between O Holy Night and O Come Emmanuel because I think O Holy Night might just be the best song lyrically that's ever been written. And Aaron gently told me, we're not doing that twice. Okay. We're not, we're not going to do that here. And then again on Christmas Eve. So you got to pick. So I went with O Come Emmanuel. That was it. That was a whole thought process because I do love this song and I do think it's, it's really lyrically rich and important. And I think it's a great Christmas song. If you're not familiar with it, you will be by the end of the service today, I promise you. But most of us probably know that. What I did not know about O Come Emmanuel is how sad it is, how much the song languishes, how much it expresses this yearning, not, oh, Jesus, come because we want to celebrate you, but Jesus, come because we need you, because this place is broken and life is hard. I live in a world where bad things happen to good people and it doesn't make sense, so Jesus, please come. What I did not know is that it is steeped in scripture and it is absolutely the anthem for those of us for whom Christmas is hard this year or in future years. So I want to show you what I mean. I'm going to read you the lyrics where if you Google O Come Emmanuel, you'll find a bunch of verses and stanzas, a bunch of lyrics. And so it's kind of like, which ones are we going to sing? So I had to ask Aaron, our worship pastor, which one are we doing? He told me which one. And we're singing three verses in there. And so from just those three verses, I want you to see how much scripture is packed into the words that we're going to sing here at the close of the service. So the first verse of O Come, Emmanuel goes like this. I'm not going to sing it to you. O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears. So I want you to see first and foremost that the whole name of the song, and this isn't going to be on the screen, is O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. And that comes directly from Isaiah chapter 7, verse 14. And if you have the notes, if you have the bulletin, you want to write that down, you can check my references. But that comes from Isaiah 7, verse 14, where it's the end of a long messianic prophecy. I'm probably going to say messianic prophecy a couple of times in the sermon. That simply means an Old Testament prophecy that is about Jesus, the Messiah. So it's a messianic prophecy. And the conclusion of that, it tells us all these things about Jesus and who he's going to be. And then at the end, he says, and his name will be called Emmanuel, which means God with us. It might be the most remarkable name of Jesus because it captures within it the truth that he came down from heaven. He condescended and took on flesh and became like man, became man to be with us. Emmanuel captures who Jesus was and is. So first we see from the very first line that it's pulled right out of Isaiah chapter 7. And then with the rest of it about ransom captive Israel, that comes from Isaiah 35 10. And it's there at the bottom of the screen. Those who have been ransomed by the Lord will return. They will enter Jerusalem singing, crowned with everlasting joy. Sorrow and mourning will disappear and they will be filled with joy and gladness. So the author of this song, the writer of this song pulls this right out of this prophecy in Isaiah 35 where he refers to Jesus as the ransomed of the Lord. He comes to pay the ransom, or he refers to us as the ransomed, and he is the payment for that ransom. And there's an allusion here in the verse that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appears. In this verse of the song, we see this languishing and this anguish of the nation of Israel crying out to God, God, we don't belong here. There's something not right here. Will you please come and get us? Will you please come and pay our ransom? We are enslaved and we are in another nation in which we don't belong. And when we see the nation of Israel referred to in Scripture, it does and often is referring to the actual physical nation of Israel and the citizens of that nation, but it is also almost always referring to the children of God and those who believe in God. So the church, you and me, if we have placed our faith in Christ, and so this resonates with us. We resonate with the words in Isaiah 35 that God is coming to ransom us, that we feel like they feel, that we don't belong here. We are in lonely exile. There has to be something more than this place. There has to be something more than this world that you have to offer. Would you take me from here and bring me to heaven? It's a cry for us to be relieved of this. And then we move into the next verse that we're going to sing. It goes like this, O come thou day spring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here. Disperse the gloomy clouds of night and death's dark shadows put to flight. This is taken from the end of Luke chapter 1, verses 78 and 79. What a long chapter. Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death and to guide us to the path of peace. So we see again, the author of the song pulls directly out of Luke, and he puts to song the expression of these verses at the end of the prophecy in Luke chapter 1. Oh, come thou dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by thine advent here. They are saying, we are sad, We are depressed. Life is hard. This is a bad Christmas for us. We feel broken. It's right there in the words. Come cheer our spirits. We need you. By thine advent here. Clouds cover my vision and blot out my hope. I feel in the depths of despair, Emmanuel, come. Please come, O day spring, and cheer us and disperse these clouds. The last verse. O come, desire of nations, bind in one the hearts of, straight out of Scripture, straight out of Haggai, the desire of the nations. Other translations have it as the treasure of the nations, but I like this one better. This is King James. I like the desire of the nations. Whether you know it or not, whether you realize it or not, if this is your first Sunday in church, your soul has longed for Jesus your whole life. He is the desire of you, the desire of me, the desire of all the nations. And I love the titling here in that verse. And then the prayer is that he would bid thou our sad division cease and be thyself our king of peace, taken right out of the classic Christmas story in Luke chapter 2 beginning in verse 13 and suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and goodwill towards men. This is the gift of Jesus that he brings peace and so so the prayer in the song of come Emmanuel is, would you please bring peace and would our sad divisions cease? It's the understanding that when Jesus shows up, he's going to heal things and bring peace with us. It's the understanding that when Jesus shows up, I don't know if you've thought about this, but when Jesus shows up, he will demolish and abolish. What's the word I'm looking for? Different denominations. He will demolish and abolish denominations. There will be no more Presbyterians. Praise Jesus. We will all, we will all of us, do you know this? We will all be Pentecostal. We will be. We'll be filled with the Spirit. We'll be cheering. We'll be going nuts. The Pentecostals in the end, they're going to win. I'm telling you. There will be no more Baptists. That's not going to happen. No more Catholics. They can drop it with the robes. None of that stuff. He's going to demolish denominations because we don't need those. Those divide us. He's going to heal our family wounds. Some of y'all, your Christmas is going to be tough. And it's not going to be tough because you've lost someone. It's going to be tough because that someone's still sitting there. And they're hard to get along with. And someone that I love very much has taught me that hurt people hurt people. And me and him know that because we hurt each other often. But we always reconcile very quickly. Some of us, there's division, there's hardship in our families. And it's not because the people in your families are bad. It's because hurt people hurt people. And they don't know how to heal themselves. More than likely the ship has sailed on that healing. So they just need grace. And when Jesus comes, he's going to heal them so that they can love you perfectly as Jesus loves them. This prayer, this song is a prayer that Jesus would come and he would heal our divisions. That what's happening in the Gaza Strip would not happen anymore. That warring cultures would find peace and love with one another. That hurting families would be healed and be able to love one another well. That his own body, the church, would knock it off with the divisions and the denominations and would come together, finally answering Jesus' prayer of unity in John 17. That's what this song is for. And so if you sit down with the words of O Come, Emmanuel, what you see is that it's a song of pain. It's a song of languishing. It's a song of hardship. And what we learn from this song is that a right and good response to despair is to long for the return and redemption of Jesus. That's what this song teaches us. That a right and good response to despair is to long for the return and the redemption of Jesus. That when something happens that we can't explain, it's right and good and biblical to say, come Lord Jesus, we need you. That's why I went through the pains of showing you all the verses that are expressed in this song that says over and over again, oh, come, Emmanuel, oh, come, Emmanuel, oh, come, thou dayspring, oh, come, desire of nations, all different names of Jesus. Jesus, come, we need you. When something happens that's hard, that we don't understand, that wrecks us, it's a right, good, biblical, righteous response to say, Lord Jesus, come. This Monday morning, this last week, like a lot of you here, I woke up to a text from Julie Sauls. Julie is on staff with us and does a little bit of everything. Howard is her faithful husband and a good friend to a lot of us. And I woke up to a text that he had had a stroke at about 4 a.m. He had been rushed to the ER and then rushed to another ER. That he was in surgery. There was 100% blockage in his carotid artery. And that they did not know. They didn't know. They didn't know if he was going to make it. They didn't know if he was going to be okay if he did make it. They didn't know what recovery might look like. They didn't even know what was happening in the surgery room. They just knew that he was there and it was serious. And if you don't know Howard, and I hesitate to say this because it's going to get back to, and I'll have to own up to it. This is for him. That's the only reason I'm wearing this stupid-looking tar heel on myself. He's a big fan. Jules, if you and Howard are watching the hospital, here you go, pal. And don't tell him this next part. If you don't know Howard, it's to your detriment. He's one of the good ones. Genuinely good. What I always say about Howard is whenever there's something happening at the church, some function, and things need to be done, if you try to figure out the crappiest job, Howard's already doing it. That's Howard. He's a good man. He's far too young to be having strokes. And as Jen and I were talking on Monday, Lily, our daughter, who's nearly eight, could just sense that something was up. So she started asking questions. And in the best way we could, we tried to explain to her what a stroke was and what that meant, what the potential road ahead for Mr. Howard was going to be. And Jen asked Lily, do you remember what Mr. Howard says to you every week when you come to church? And she responded, every week, as Lily and the family are walking down the sidewalk, most of the time Howard's outside, and when he sees her, he always says, Lily. And she acts embarrassed, but she loves it. And Jen said, do you remember what Mr. Howard says to you? And she said it. And when she said it, I just kind of got up and I hid my face from Lily. And I put my face on Jen's shoulder and I cried. And I told her, I really hate my job sometimes. Because I don't want to be the person that has to bring comfort here. Because I don't know how to do that. Because that morning, we didn't know if Howard was okay. I didn't know if I'd ever hear my friend's voice again. I didn't know if his kids would get to hear him say their name again. If Julie would ever hug him again. I didn't know. And I didn't want to have to be the pastor to come back here and be like, well, there's a reason for everything. So I cried. And we're thankful to know that there was just been a slow trickle of good news since then. Howard's doing well. He's moving both sides of his body, starting to speak. We're praying for a full recovery. He's gaining on it bit by bit. And there are others here who have walked that same path. And we know it's hard. And so I'm glad that he's doing better and I'll tell you what else I'm glad about. Jen went to see Julie and Mackenzie, his daughter, yesterday at the hospital. And Julie was choking up, bragging about you guys, about how this church has shown up for them, about how we have loved on them. And it just makes me so proud to be a pastor of a church that does that. I tell everybody I can, we've got the best church ladies in the business. But in the middle, I'm trying to compose myself so that Lily didn't see me crying. I remembered that I was preaching this on Sunday. I remembered that God put it here. And I remembered that it was okay to not feel like I had to be the agent of comfort. That it was okay instead to be able to respond with my church, oh come, oh come, Emmanuel. Jesus, please come. Please come and end this stuff. Please come and make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. Please come so that I don't have to answer questions. I got a question this morning. It's the question to ask. I saw somebody, very first thing out of their mouth, why do bad things happen to good people? Brother, I don't know. And we're not going to know. We can ask that question all we want. I'll just tell you as a pastor, there's no answer to that. We're not going to know this side of eternity. I know that if I were God, I would mess it up, but bad things wouldn't happen to good people. But when we get to eternity, we're going to know why they do. On this side of eternity, I don't know. What I do know is that it is right and good and biblical and righteous when we hurt to say, Jesus, come. Just stop this pain. Stop these wars. Stop cancer. Knock it off with the empty chairs at the dinner table. Heal the people who hurt us. Jesus, come. This place isn't right. This world doesn't fit. I know that this isn't what you want, God. Send your son to redeem us, to get us again. Jesus, come. It's right and good in pain and in disappointment and in loss and in loneliness and in despair and in depression, to not have an answer for it, to not see a silver lining, to simply throw your hands up and put your head down and say, Jesus, please come and rescue this. It's a mess. Please come. That's what this song is. God, it's a mess. Please come. Send your son. Rescue us. Fix this. Let us exist in your perfect peace. Jesus, come. It's a right and good response to despair. And here's why this song is a Christmas song. Because Christmas reminds us that Jesus has come and instills hope that he will do it again. That's what Christmas is. Christmas reminds us every year Jesus has come. And because of that it instills hope that he will come again. Every year we acknowledge Jesus did come. He did come as a baby, meek and humble and lowly. He did come in a manger to a Virgin Mary and to a father, Joseph. He did arrive in Bethlehem that day. He was taken back to Nazareth. He did live a perfect life and die a perfect death. He did come. God did keep his promise that he made to Abraham 4,000 years prior that the nation of Israel clung to generation after generation as they are subjected to judges and terrible kings and slavery and being drug away from their nation. And they see the temple being built and they see it being torn down and they see it rebuilt again and they weep because it's a shadow of what it was. Through all of that, God was with them and God kept his promise. And we see God keeping his promise in the beginning of the gospels and the Christmas stories. And that's what we celebrate, that God kept his promise and he sent his son. So Christmas reminds us that Jesus has already been here. He came. God did what he said he would do. And because he did, because we saw that promise fulfilled after 4,000 years of waiting, we know that he will keep it again one day too. And we can cling to that promise. That's what being a Christian is. It's believing that it was Jesus who did come in a manger that day, that he did die on the cross, that he did go to prepare a place for us, and one day, we don't know when it will be, but one day he will come crashing back through the clouds and he will claim us and he will make the wrong things right and the sad things untrue. We know that to be true. To be a Christian is to cling to that hope. And so sometimes that hope gets covered over by the clouds of night. Sometimes circumstances make our tether to that hope fragile and thin. Sometimes things happen that we don't understand that we'll never be able to explain. And when they do, we cling to that hope that Jesus will come again and we say, do it soon, Lord. Do it soon. That's what we sing when we sing, O come, Emmanuel. That's what we celebrate when we celebrate Christmas. Jesus did come, and because I believe he did, I know that he will again. That's what Christmas reminds us of. So even if this Christmas is a hard one for you, we have this song, this anthem to declare. And the good news about this song is, it's not just the bad stuff. Oh, come, Jesus, it's hard here. The chorus is rejoice. Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel. Rejoice, oh, rejoice, because he's coming again. He came for you and he will come again. Rejoice, rejoice. We have reason to rejoice. And so here's the invitation. In a few minutes, we're going to sing this song together. If this Christmas is hard for you, I want you to declare this. To throw up your hands and to put down your head and to say, Jesus, come. This is hard. Come. And choose to rejoice in that truth. Here's the other thing. If you're in a good season, and this Christmas is a good one, you're blessed, and you're happy, and you're joyful. And you have all the things and all the people around you that you want to have around you, and you're looking forward to a truly joyful Christmas season. Wonderful. Here's what I want to ask you to do. I want you to sing. I want you to sing as loud as you can, because I want you to be the voice for people who can't muster that voice this morning. If they don't have the strength to sing, let them hear you singing. For those of us that don't have the voice to rejoice yet, let's let our church family carry us with their voice to God's throne as we declare this. So we're going to do that in a few minutes together. But before we do that, we're going to have communion together. Because we thought it would be right and good and appropriate to finish up this series and usher in the Christmas series by doing communion together as a church. Communion is one of the traditions that Jesus himself started. At the Last Supper, the night he was arrested, yeah, the elders can come forward and start to set things up. At the Last Supper, the night he was arrested, Jesus took bread and he broke it. And he handed it to the disciples and he says, this is my body that's broken for you. And then he took the wine and he poured it. And he says, this is my blood that spilled out for you. Every time you do these things, I want you to do them in remembrance of me. And so churches through the millennia have observed communion. The body, the bread is God's body that was broken for us. After he lived a perfect life, he died a perfect death. The blood, the juice is the blood that was spilled out for us in that perfect death. And in celebrating communion, we acknowledge that to live sometimes is to suffer. But Jesus took on the greatest suffering on the cross. He became suffering for us so that one day we would have to suffer no more. He is the Prince of Peace and He did keep the promises and He will fulfill them again, and we see the depiction of that on the cross as He suffers for us so that we don't have to. He didn't come to just be a baby and live a life. He came to die that death. And so it's good for us to acknowledge that here too. So here's what I'm going to ask you to do. I'm going to invite you to stand and then we're going to pray together and then we'll take communion and then we're going to close the service out with O Come Emmanuel and then we'll go into our weeks. Father, thank you for communion. Thank you for sending your son who became Emmanuel, God with us. Thank you for the perfect life that he lived. Thank you for the death that he died for us. Lord, as we prepare our hearts to take communion, I just pray that we would allow you to do work within us, to rid us of what doesn't need to be there, to infuse us with what does. God, I lift up those for whom this Christmas is going to be challenging. I pray that they would take this song and this desire for you to return as their anthem that would encourage them through this season. God, we lift up Howard as he recovers. Be with him in that recovery. We lift up the other people in our church who are hurting now. We hurt with them and you hurt with them and we pray that you would heal them too. God, we pray all of these things in the name of your son, Emmanuel. Amen.

All right. Well, good morning, everybody. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. Thanks for making grace a part of your Sunday as we continue in our series in Isaiah called the Treasury of Isaiah. This week, we're going to be in Isaiah chapter 55. So if you have a Bible with you, I hope you do go ahead and turn to Isaiah 55. We're going to be looking at verses eight and nine this morning. If you don't have a Bible, there's one in the seat back in front of you. But as I'm trying to remind you guys regularly, bring your Bibles to church, mark them up, challenge me to point you to them, write prayers, write dates of prayers, underline things. Let's have some well-worn Bibles in here that we take home with us and use every day. As we approach the passage this morning, I was reminded of a conversation that we had in my Tuesday morning men's group just a week or two ago. This semester, we are reading through the gospel of Matthew. So a big focus on Jesus, life of Christ, his teachings, his miracles, his works, things like that. And I don't remember the specific conversation that we were having, but let's just say it was something along the lines of kind of wondering why Jesus seemed to always speak in riddles. Why he always would say one thing and then later would re-explain it to the disciples. Why he spoke in parables that people couldn't seem to understand. I mean, do you understand that Jesus had a conversation with a man named Nicodemus who was so intelligent amongst a group of learned men that he served on the Israeli equivalent of the Supreme Court. And when he pinned Jesus down to be like, what are you talking about? What's your message all about? That in that conversation in John chapter 3, Nicodemus says, I don't understand what you mean. Should I climb back into my mother's womb and be born again? Is that what you're talking about? And Jesus is like, maybe. And then the conversation's over. Like no more clarity after that Right? Obviously, he doesn't say maybe. That's a loose paraphrase. But we were just kind of discussing this as a group. And one of the guys in the group kind of, I don't want to embarrass anybody, so we'll just call him Emil. I called Emil. I have permission. He kind of raised his hand, asked a question that everybody has asked. And what I love about my boy Emilio is he's one of those people that has an incredible knack for asking the question that everyone else around him is asking, but they're just afraid to ask it, and he'll do it. And I love it. And so he says what we think too. Why didn't Jesus just say what he meant? Why didn't he just explain who he was and what he came to do? Why was he so shrouded in all of that mystery? It doesn't make any sense. And that's a fair question. That's a question that we all ask. Every single one of us has asked that exact same question. Why doesn't God do it this way? Why didn't Jesus heal more people? I wonder, why didn't Jesus just tell them to wash their hands? Listen, I'm not going to give away too much science, but just wash your hands sometimes. Why didn't he do that? Why didn't God organize things this way or that way or communicate himself more clearly? Why didn't God give us a systematic theology so we don't have to have spiritual debates? Why didn't Jesus perform more miracles or less miracles? Why was Jesus up in northern Israel in the country, in this unknown territory rather than in Jerusalem and in the epicenter. Why? Why didn't Jesus do it that way? Here's what we're asking underneath that question. Why doesn't the almighty, omnipotent, sovereign God of the universe do things the way that I would. And because of that, that's a stupid question. It is. And we've all asked it. But here's the deal. Here's how I know that that's a silly question. It's okay to ask it. But we have to be comfortable with the answer that we arrive at today. Here's why I know that's a silly question. Isaiah chapter 55, verses 8 and 9. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. God himself is speaking here in Isaiah 55. And he says, my ways are higher than your ways. My thoughts are higher than your thoughts. As high as the heavens are above the earth. As big and expansive as the universe is. That is the difference. The distance between the earth and the end of the universe is the difference between your intellectual comprehension and mine. It's the difference between your ways and my ways. It's the difference between your thoughts and my thoughts. This is what God himself explains to us and makes clear in scripture and in more places. He does it in Romans chapter 11 through Paul as well. And here he is saying, my thoughts are different than your thoughts. You will not understand me. And so what I want us to see is in reality, it is unbelievably naive and foolish to insist that God behave in ways that make sense to us. It is unbelievably naive of who God is, foolish about how we've estimated ourselves and our judgment, to expect God to always behave in ways that make sense to us. And yet we do this, don't we? Don't we shake our fist at God? This doesn't make any sense. You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't allow that. We do all the right things and we don't have the blessings that other people have. That's not fair. God, this evil, this atrocity is happening right now. I mean, look at what's going on in Israel, Palestine. God, how are you letting that happen? That doesn't make sense. That's not fair. We, at different points and at different times and in different ways, sometimes with a shaking fist, sometimes on bent knee with a tearful face, say, God, this doesn't make any sense. God, you're doing it wrong. God, why wouldn't you have just been more clear? And we insist that God help us see why his actions actually do make sense. Or we tell him that the things we see don't make sense, and then we somehow insist that they should. When I was enrolled in Bible college, as soon as I got done with my core work, and I got into, I got a pastoral ministries degree. As soon as I got into my degree work, they handed me this big thick book by, I'm assuming a good man named Norman Geisler. Systematic Theology is what it's called. It was a book about God and the Bible based on God and the Bible. And that book had more pages than the Bible, which is about God. That's a pretty good trick to do, Norman. And we spent two semesters working through systematic theology, where it takes all the names of God and explains them, and all the soteriology and homardiology and all the ologies and the study of sin and all the other things and salvation and what that means and baptism and why the Baptists are right and the Presbyterians are wrong because I went to one of those schools and all the things like forever, two semesters. Then I got into master's work. What's the first thing they do? They put a systematic theology in my hand. We got to get these right. We got to get all the boxes. We have to understand God. We have to be able, any situation, we have to be able to fit it in a box and explain it and understand it and have all the verses to back it up, and this is it. And then stuff starts happening outside of our theology and outside of our boxes, and we can't make any sense of it, and we insist that we should be able to make sense of it. God, I need to understand you. We insist on systematizing and categorizing a wild and wonderful God that does not submit himself to categories. We insist, Christians, and I know because I did it for years, and I lived under the impression that the person who had the most robust systematic theology and had successfully categorized and systematized the things of God in Scripture, the person who could do that the best was the godliest. That's what I used to think. But there's no better story in the Bible that tells you that God's really not interested in our categories and our systems than in Exodus chapters 3 and 4. My Bible scholars know that Exodus chapter 3 and 4 is where Moses encounters God at the burning bush. Moses is a shepherd. He's been a shepherd now for 40 years. One day, he's tending his flock, and he looks, and there's a large piece of shrubbery on fire. The fire's not dissipating. So he goes over to check it out. And the voice from the fire says, Moses, you're on holy ground. Take off your sandals. And Moses realizes he's in a conversation with God. This is strange. And the fire says, Moses, guy who's not important in any way, I would like you to go back to Pharaoh, the most powerful man in the world. And I would like you to tell him to release my people, the foundation of his economy, just let them walk out. And Moses says, okay, what's your name? And God says, I am. I am that I am. And Moses says, okay, when I go to Pharaoh, who should I say sent me? And God says, tell him I am sent you. The rest of the conversation is pretty remarkable. I would encourage you to read it. But it is amazing to me, equal parts that this is true and equal parts that we tend to miss it. You understand that the God we serve, the God we gather to worship and sing to, when we say his name is holy, we don't even know if that's right. Do you understand that the God we serve that many of us have devoted our lives to, we don't even know his name because he won't tell us. He's so resistant to categories and to being systematized that he wouldn't even tell us his name when we outright asked him. We're like, listen, I don't want to know for personal curiosity. I'm going to have to give it as backup when I go to Pharaoh and God's like, just tell him I am sent you. And what I love about that response from God, there's so many implications there. We could spend an entire Sunday morning on it. But what I love about that response from God with what is your name? I am. Is what he's saying implicitly is I will not submit myself to your categories. I will not submit myself to your systems. I will not be contained by the name that you give me. I will not be contained by a name that you've requested I give myself. We serve a God who is remarkably resistant to categorization and to systemization. Does it not occur to you that if God wanted to be systematically understood, if God wanted to be categorized and give us all the boxes to put all the things so we could perfectly understand life in the universe and time and space, does it not occur to you that he could have done it? He could have. He could have made this systematic theology. He could have made it very clear. He could have, Jesus could have done what we want him to do and spoken with more clarity during his ministry and left less mystery in the margins of his speech and of his stories. He could have done that and yet he chose not to. And in the face of all of this evidence, in the face of all of this evidence of a messy Bible that tells a messy story where God claims in different places, you can't understand me. My ways are higher than your ways. We want to know your name, God. I'm not going to give you that because I won't be reduced to that. Jesus, why do you speak in parables? Well, I'm not going to tell you that, but I'll explain this last one to you. We tend to sweep all of that aside and continue to grab God by the proverbial shirt collar and say, no, but make it make sense. Despite a landslide of evidence to the contrary of that possibility. Last Sunday, I had the kids on Sunday night, Jen serves in the youth, just as a way to avoid the children. She doesn't even really do anything while she's here. And so I had the kids, wasn't much in the house, so I said, let's go to Zaxby's. So I throw them in the car. Zaxby's is right down the road. That's a dangerous game for me. And I asked John, our youngest, he's three, what do you want? You want grilled cheese? You want chicken tenders? He says, chicken tenders. Great. Lily, what do you want? She says, I want a number one. I said, is that a Zax snack? She says, yeah. I said, all right. I said, I'm going to get a five piece, and then I'll let y'all split it up. And she goes, no, no, no, I want a number one. I said, yeah, baby, I understand. You're going to be taken care of. I want a number one. And I don't know about you guys that also have an eight-year-old or have had eight-year-olds, but they're insistent little boogers, you know? Really mean it. And we're kind of going back and forth. I want a number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone, you know, really mean it. And she, you know, we're kind of going back and forth. I want number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone. You know, whatever. And then I finally, I just said, and I knew the answer to this, but I just said, Lily, what's in the number one? And she says, three chicken tenders and a piece of toast and fries and a Zach sauce. And I said, I know when we get home, you will have all of those things in front of you. Okay? Okay. So then we get to the drive-thru, and we get to the window, and I say, hey, let me get a five-piece, no slaw, double fries, so I can split them 50-50 with the kids so there's no arguments when we get there. And as I'm ordering this, from the back, no, number one! So I struck her. I just turned around. No, I didn't. So I just said, Lily, just trust Daddy. Just trust me for just a second, all right? And she pipes down, you know. And then, you know, I did that to make it cheaper, but Zaxby's is also offering four shrimp for $3. And so if you ever wonder why, when you go through a drive-thru and they're like, hey, welcome to wherever, would you like to try our new yada, yada, yada? And you're like, no, I came here to order the thing that I want. I don't need you to suggest the thing to me. I'm the reason they suggest that to you. Because whenever they say, would you like to try our new thing? I'm like, yes, yes, I would. Say no more. You don't have to tell me about it. Because you don't get to look at it like this by stopping at one sandwich. You know what I mean? So I threw on the shrimp with the free Zach's tail sauce, and it was great. We get back to the house. Lily's brooding the whole way home. She's so upset because I haven't gotten her the dinner that she wants. We get back to the house, set them down. I break up everything. I put in front of her exactly what a number one is. I said, do you see? And she goes, oh, thanks daddy. And just eats. And I'm like, I am convinced as silly as this is that one day, one day, when we sit down in the great banquet in heaven, we will find that the whole time God has been preparing us a number one. And we will go, oh, thanks, Abba. I know that that's silly. I know it is. But I think it means something. We in this life insist so hard that God would make sense to us and that we would understand why he does all the things that he does. And I think, comparatively speaking, we are a petulant child sitting in the back, insisting that God has got our order wrong. And one day, we will sit down with him, and we will go, yeah, this makes sense now. I get it. I understand. I'm sorry. And here's the thing. If there's ever been anybody who had the right to insist that God start making sense, it was Job. Okay? When we think about grabbing God by the lapels and make this make sense for me, I've got a number one. Why aren't you ordering me a number one? This is what you should be doing, God. If there's ever been anyone in history that had the right to ask that question of God, it was Job. Now, if you don't know off the top of your head the story of Job, I'm sure you know bits and pieces of it. The book of Job is the first book of wisdom. It's probably the first book of the Bible that was ever written, the book of Job. God and Satan are having a conversation, and Satan tells God, the only reason your servant Job honors you is because you bless him. And God says, okay, take his stuff away. He will not renounce me. And Satan proceeds to systematically take everything there was away from Job. He loses his children. He loses his wealth. He loses his land. He loses his health. He even loses the peace of his wife, who at one point in the story advises him to curse God and die. His friends come to him in three different cycles of advice. And they tell him, Job, you're clearly hiding a secret sin, and God is punishing you for it. And he says, I tell you, I am not. I have done nothing unrighteous. Because God actually says about Job, he is the most righteous man on the planet. Until Nate gets there. And then, at the end of the advice, Job's had it. And he says, you know what? I'm going to go to God. I'm going to go to God, and I'm going to demand answers. And there's a sense in which all of humanity goes with Job. We're putting him in front of us. Excuse me. Yeah, you do it. We're kind of hiding behind him. Because Job has every right to confront God. God, I've done nothing but serve you with my whole life and you've taken everything away from me. And now I'm riddled with boils and everyone hates me. This does not make sense. This is not fair. God, make it make sense. Why didn't you do things the way I think you should do them? So he goes to God and he's demanding an answer. And anyone that's ever thought something happened that was unfair or unjust on God's watch is behind Job going, yeah, what's the deal? And here is God's response to Job and all humans in chapter 38. You will not be surprised to learn it's one of my favorite passages. Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said, who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? The ESV is even better. It says, who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Whoops. I have a professor who said that Job demanded a man-to-man conversation with God. The problem was he was one man short. Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man. I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation a little bit. Verse 8. Job goes to God, insisting a great injustice has done. And in that moment, I want God to pull Job aside, put his arm around him, and gently lay everything out. Let me help you understand this, son. That is not what God does. God says, Job, I believe you've forgotten your place. Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? And God goes on for three chapters. At one point in the middle, sad, pathetic Job, the sacrificial lamb for humankind, says, I repent in dust and ashes. I have spoken once. I will speak no more. And God says, I'm not done. And he keeps going. And what God is saying here is, Job, I know you have your questions. I know you want to understand me and what I've done. But until you can answer what I'm asking you, until you can explain to me how I hung the world in balance and tilted it at such an axis that it exists in harmony with the sun to allow your life. Until you can understand that, you can't possibly understand the answer that I would need to give you to explain myself to you. Do you see? Until you can answer my questions, you can't handle the answer to your questions. So I'm not going to explain it to you because it would be a waste of time. It would be, Rachel Martin is over here with a newborn baby. How old is that baby? Six weeks. This is her third one. They don't even care. They bring him like right from the hospital straight to church. God can no more explain to us what he's doing and how to make his decisions and his actions make sense then I can explain this sermon to that child. It's just not going to work. So God says, Job, listen, man, I'm not going to answer your questions because you can't answer mine. And until you can, you can't handle the answer that I would give you. So until then, this is the beckon from God. Until then, I just need you to trust me. I'm in the front seat of my car. Lily insists she wants a number one. I tell her I'm going to take care of it, but I need a number one. I need you to be quiet and trust me. Sometimes God needs us to be quiet and trust him. And in that trust, acknowledge. We can't know his thoughts. We can't know his plans. We can't know his ways. They are as far from us as the universe is from the earth. And this really ought to comfort us. This ought to be seen as a good thing. We can take great solace in the grandeur and mystery of our awesome God. We are in the back seat, insisting that God make it make sense. And God is telling us, will you just trust me? Will you just trust that I'm good, that I'm lovely, that I'm wonderful, and that I love you? I don't know if you guys have noticed this or know this, but almost every time our worship pastor, Aaron, prays, he finishes the prayer with God, we need you, we trust you. And do you know that that's an intentional choice? That he and I have actually had a conversation about that. And that the reason he ends his corporate prayers with we need you and we trust you is because it's a reminder to him and a reminder to us that we choose to trust in the goodness of God, that we acknowledge that we will not always understand him. We acknowledge that his ways are higher than our ways, but we know God to be good and we know God to be just and we know him be lovely, and we know him to be merciful and gracious and kind and faithful and hopeful and holy. We know those things about our God. So even when life doesn't make sense, even when we look at the way he does things and we think, gosh, I would do this in a different way. Stories like the conversation with Job. Inter interactions like those at the burning bush, declarations like those found in Isaiah 55 should ring in our ears and remind us, yeah, you serve a God that's too big for you to understand. See, what we want, what we want is a God that's just like a little bit smarter than us. So eventually, if we work hard enough, we can understand him. And that's not who God is. He is light years apart from us. And this should give us great comfort. There's actually a book I would recommend to you guys called Wisdom and Wonder by a man named Abraham Kuyper. Abraham Kuyper was a scientist, and then I believe he was the Danish prime minister at the turn of the 19th century. And he wrote a great book called Wisdom and Wonder, and it's all about this. The fact that we serve an unknowable, unsearchable God. Now listen, I'm not saying that systematic theology isn't important. I'm not saying that seeking to understand God is an absolutely futile exercise. There's great progress to be made there. We should spend our lives searching out and seeking out the character of God and seeking to understand him to the absolute best of our capacities. It's okay to understand theology and to talk about those things. But what I see in so many Christians is a forgetfulness and a naivety to the unknown nature of God. So we don't throw out theology as if it doesn't matter, but so often we hold to it and insist that God fit inside of it, and then when he doesn't, we seem to forget that he's unknowable and unsearchable and his ways are higher than our ways. We should hold those things in tension together, seeking to understand God, knowing that we won't always. And in those times when we don't understand him and he doesn't make sense and we wouldn't do things the way he's done them, or they seem to be contrary to what we think, in those gaps of unknowing, we fill it with faith in who God is and the promises that he's made and who he says he is. We fill it with his goodness and his grandeur. And in that way, we are allowed to marvel at a marvelous, miraculous, wild, unknowable God who allows us to see parts of him that we can't know. And this is the God that we worship and we sing to. So again, it's not wrong to ask that God would make sense. It's not wrong to seek to understand. But it is wrong to insist. Because when we insist, we forget what God declares in Isaiah 55. As we close, as we close this morning, I came across this prayer in my devotional and I thought I would end the service or end the sermon this way. We praise you, O God. We acknowledge you to be the Lord. All the earth worships you, the Father everlasting. To you all angels cry aloud the heavens and all the powers in it. To you cherubim and seraphim continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts. Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of your glory. The glorious company of the apostles praise you. The good fellowship of the prophets praise you. The noble army of, we love you. We trust you. We thank you that your ways are higher than our ways. We thank you that your thoughts are as far removed from us as the end of the universe is from earth. God, we are sorry where we've tried to fit you into our intellect, into our boxes, and into our categories. We are sorry for failing to allow you to be wild and wonderful and grand and awesome. But Lord, would we be people who take strides to celebrate that, your bigness and your wonder. God, help us trust the parts that we can know. Help us to have faith in the parts that we can't know. And help us to look forward to one day when you shed light on so many things for us. And until that day comes, help us to cling to you in faith, finding comfort and solace in how big you are and how wonderful you are and how far beyond us you are. In Jesus' name, amen.

All right. Well, good morning, everybody. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. Thanks for making grace a part of your Sunday as we continue in our series in Isaiah called the Treasury of Isaiah. This week, we're going to be in Isaiah chapter 55. So if you have a Bible with you, I hope you do go ahead and turn to Isaiah 55. We're going to be looking at verses eight and nine this morning. If you don't have a Bible, there's one in the seat back in front of you. But as I'm trying to remind you guys regularly, bring your Bibles to church, mark them up, challenge me to point you to them, write prayers, write dates of prayers, underline things. Let's have some well-worn Bibles in here that we take home with us and use every day. As we approach the passage this morning, I was reminded of a conversation that we had in my Tuesday morning men's group just a week or two ago. This semester, we are reading through the gospel of Matthew. So a big focus on Jesus, life of Christ, his teachings, his miracles, his works, things like that. And I don't remember the specific conversation that we were having, but let's just say it was something along the lines of kind of wondering why Jesus seemed to always speak in riddles. Why he always would say one thing and then later would re-explain it to the disciples. Why he spoke in parables that people couldn't seem to understand. I mean, do you understand that Jesus had a conversation with a man named Nicodemus who was so intelligent amongst a group of learned men that he served on the Israeli equivalent of the Supreme Court. And when he pinned Jesus down to be like, what are you talking about? What's your message all about? That in that conversation in John chapter 3, Nicodemus says, I don't understand what you mean. Should I climb back into my mother's womb and be born again? Is that what you're talking about? And Jesus is like, maybe. And then the conversation's over. Like no more clarity after that Right? Obviously, he doesn't say maybe. That's a loose paraphrase. But we were just kind of discussing this as a group. And one of the guys in the group kind of, I don't want to embarrass anybody, so we'll just call him Emil. I called Emil. I have permission. He kind of raised his hand, asked a question that everybody has asked. And what I love about my boy Emilio is he's one of those people that has an incredible knack for asking the question that everyone else around him is asking, but they're just afraid to ask it, and he'll do it. And I love it. And so he says what we think too. Why didn't Jesus just say what he meant? Why didn't he just explain who he was and what he came to do? Why was he so shrouded in all of that mystery? It doesn't make any sense. And that's a fair question. That's a question that we all ask. Every single one of us has asked that exact same question. Why doesn't God do it this way? Why didn't Jesus heal more people? I wonder, why didn't Jesus just tell them to wash their hands? Listen, I'm not going to give away too much science, but just wash your hands sometimes. Why didn't he do that? Why didn't God organize things this way or that way or communicate himself more clearly? Why didn't God give us a systematic theology so we don't have to have spiritual debates? Why didn't Jesus perform more miracles or less miracles? Why was Jesus up in northern Israel in the country, in this unknown territory rather than in Jerusalem and in the epicenter. Why? Why didn't Jesus do it that way? Here's what we're asking underneath that question. Why doesn't the almighty, omnipotent, sovereign God of the universe do things the way that I would. And because of that, that's a stupid question. It is. And we've all asked it. But here's the deal. Here's how I know that that's a silly question. It's okay to ask it. But we have to be comfortable with the answer that we arrive at today. Here's why I know that's a silly question. Isaiah chapter 55, verses 8 and 9. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. God himself is speaking here in Isaiah 55. And he says, my ways are higher than your ways. My thoughts are higher than your thoughts. As high as the heavens are above the earth. As big and expansive as the universe is. That is the difference. The distance between the earth and the end of the universe is the difference between your intellectual comprehension and mine. It's the difference between your ways and my ways. It's the difference between your thoughts and my thoughts. This is what God himself explains to us and makes clear in scripture and in more places. He does it in Romans chapter 11 through Paul as well. And here he is saying, my thoughts are different than your thoughts. You will not understand me. And so what I want us to see is in reality, it is unbelievably naive and foolish to insist that God behave in ways that make sense to us. It is unbelievably naive of who God is, foolish about how we've estimated ourselves and our judgment, to expect God to always behave in ways that make sense to us. And yet we do this, don't we? Don't we shake our fist at God? This doesn't make any sense. You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't allow that. We do all the right things and we don't have the blessings that other people have. That's not fair. God, this evil, this atrocity is happening right now. I mean, look at what's going on in Israel, Palestine. God, how are you letting that happen? That doesn't make sense. That's not fair. We, at different points and at different times and in different ways, sometimes with a shaking fist, sometimes on bent knee with a tearful face, say, God, this doesn't make any sense. God, you're doing it wrong. God, why wouldn't you have just been more clear? And we insist that God help us see why his actions actually do make sense. Or we tell him that the things we see don't make sense, and then we somehow insist that they should. When I was enrolled in Bible college, as soon as I got done with my core work, and I got into, I got a pastoral ministries degree. As soon as I got into my degree work, they handed me this big thick book by, I'm assuming a good man named Norman Geisler. Systematic Theology is what it's called. It was a book about God and the Bible based on God and the Bible. And that book had more pages than the Bible, which is about God. That's a pretty good trick to do, Norman. And we spent two semesters working through systematic theology, where it takes all the names of God and explains them, and all the soteriology and homardiology and all the ologies and the study of sin and all the other things and salvation and what that means and baptism and why the Baptists are right and the Presbyterians are wrong because I went to one of those schools and all the things like forever, two semesters. Then I got into master's work. What's the first thing they do? They put a systematic theology in my hand. We got to get these right. We got to get all the boxes. We have to understand God. We have to be able, any situation, we have to be able to fit it in a box and explain it and understand it and have all the verses to back it up, and this is it. And then stuff starts happening outside of our theology and outside of our boxes, and we can't make any sense of it, and we insist that we should be able to make sense of it. God, I need to understand you. We insist on systematizing and categorizing a wild and wonderful God that does not submit himself to categories. We insist, Christians, and I know because I did it for years, and I lived under the impression that the person who had the most robust systematic theology and had successfully categorized and systematized the things of God in Scripture, the person who could do that the best was the godliest. That's what I used to think. But there's no better story in the Bible that tells you that God's really not interested in our categories and our systems than in Exodus chapters 3 and 4. My Bible scholars know that Exodus chapter 3 and 4 is where Moses encounters God at the burning bush. Moses is a shepherd. He's been a shepherd now for 40 years. One day, he's tending his flock, and he looks, and there's a large piece of shrubbery on fire. The fire's not dissipating. So he goes over to check it out. And the voice from the fire says, Moses, you're on holy ground. Take off your sandals. And Moses realizes he's in a conversation with God. This is strange. And the fire says, Moses, guy who's not important in any way, I would like you to go back to Pharaoh, the most powerful man in the world. And I would like you to tell him to release my people, the foundation of his economy, just let them walk out. And Moses says, okay, what's your name? And God says, I am. I am that I am. And Moses says, okay, when I go to Pharaoh, who should I say sent me? And God says, tell him I am sent you. The rest of the conversation is pretty remarkable. I would encourage you to read it. But it is amazing to me, equal parts that this is true and equal parts that we tend to miss it. You understand that the God we serve, the God we gather to worship and sing to, when we say his name is holy, we don't even know if that's right. Do you understand that the God we serve that many of us have devoted our lives to, we don't even know his name because he won't tell us. He's so resistant to categories and to being systematized that he wouldn't even tell us his name when we outright asked him. We're like, listen, I don't want to know for personal curiosity. I'm going to have to give it as backup when I go to Pharaoh and God's like, just tell him I am sent you. And what I love about that response from God, there's so many implications there. We could spend an entire Sunday morning on it. But what I love about that response from God with what is your name? I am. Is what he's saying implicitly is I will not submit myself to your categories. I will not submit myself to your systems. I will not be contained by the name that you give me. I will not be contained by a name that you've requested I give myself. We serve a God who is remarkably resistant to categorization and to systemization. Does it not occur to you that if God wanted to be systematically understood, if God wanted to be categorized and give us all the boxes to put all the things so we could perfectly understand life in the universe and time and space, does it not occur to you that he could have done it? He could have. He could have made this systematic theology. He could have made it very clear. He could have, Jesus could have done what we want him to do and spoken with more clarity during his ministry and left less mystery in the margins of his speech and of his stories. He could have done that and yet he chose not to. And in the face of all of this evidence, in the face of all of this evidence of a messy Bible that tells a messy story where God claims in different places, you can't understand me. My ways are higher than your ways. We want to know your name, God. I'm not going to give you that because I won't be reduced to that. Jesus, why do you speak in parables? Well, I'm not going to tell you that, but I'll explain this last one to you. We tend to sweep all of that aside and continue to grab God by the proverbial shirt collar and say, no, but make it make sense. Despite a landslide of evidence to the contrary of that possibility. Last Sunday, I had the kids on Sunday night, Jen serves in the youth, just as a way to avoid the children. She doesn't even really do anything while she's here. And so I had the kids, wasn't much in the house, so I said, let's go to Zaxby's. So I throw them in the car. Zaxby's is right down the road. That's a dangerous game for me. And I asked John, our youngest, he's three, what do you want? You want grilled cheese? You want chicken tenders? He says, chicken tenders. Great. Lily, what do you want? She says, I want a number one. I said, is that a Zax snack? She says, yeah. I said, all right. I said, I'm going to get a five piece, and then I'll let y'all split it up. And she goes, no, no, no, I want a number one. I said, yeah, baby, I understand. You're going to be taken care of. I want a number one. And I don't know about you guys that also have an eight-year-old or have had eight-year-olds, but they're insistent little boogers, you know? Really mean it. And we're kind of going back and forth. I want a number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone, you know, really mean it. And she, you know, we're kind of going back and forth. I want number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone. You know, whatever. And then I finally, I just said, and I knew the answer to this, but I just said, Lily, what's in the number one? And she says, three chicken tenders and a piece of toast and fries and a Zach sauce. And I said, I know when we get home, you will have all of those things in front of you. Okay? Okay. So then we get to the drive-thru, and we get to the window, and I say, hey, let me get a five-piece, no slaw, double fries, so I can split them 50-50 with the kids so there's no arguments when we get there. And as I'm ordering this, from the back, no, number one! So I struck her. I just turned around. No, I didn't. So I just said, Lily, just trust Daddy. Just trust me for just a second, all right? And she pipes down, you know. And then, you know, I did that to make it cheaper, but Zaxby's is also offering four shrimp for $3. And so if you ever wonder why, when you go through a drive-thru and they're like, hey, welcome to wherever, would you like to try our new yada, yada, yada? And you're like, no, I came here to order the thing that I want. I don't need you to suggest the thing to me. I'm the reason they suggest that to you. Because whenever they say, would you like to try our new thing? I'm like, yes, yes, I would. Say no more. You don't have to tell me about it. Because you don't get to look at it like this by stopping at one sandwich. You know what I mean? So I threw on the shrimp with the free Zach's tail sauce, and it was great. We get back to the house. Lily's brooding the whole way home. She's so upset because I haven't gotten her the dinner that she wants. We get back to the house, set them down. I break up everything. I put in front of her exactly what a number one is. I said, do you see? And she goes, oh, thanks daddy. And just eats. And I'm like, I am convinced as silly as this is that one day, one day, when we sit down in the great banquet in heaven, we will find that the whole time God has been preparing us a number one. And we will go, oh, thanks, Abba. I know that that's silly. I know it is. But I think it means something. We in this life insist so hard that God would make sense to us and that we would understand why he does all the things that he does. And I think, comparatively speaking, we are a petulant child sitting in the back, insisting that God has got our order wrong. And one day, we will sit down with him, and we will go, yeah, this makes sense now. I get it. I understand. I'm sorry. And here's the thing. If there's ever been anybody who had the right to insist that God start making sense, it was Job. Okay? When we think about grabbing God by the lapels and make this make sense for me, I've got a number one. Why aren't you ordering me a number one? This is what you should be doing, God. If there's ever been anyone in history that had the right to ask that question of God, it was Job. Now, if you don't know off the top of your head the story of Job, I'm sure you know bits and pieces of it. The book of Job is the first book of wisdom. It's probably the first book of the Bible that was ever written, the book of Job. God and Satan are having a conversation, and Satan tells God, the only reason your servant Job honors you is because you bless him. And God says, okay, take his stuff away. He will not renounce me. And Satan proceeds to systematically take everything there was away from Job. He loses his children. He loses his wealth. He loses his land. He loses his health. He even loses the peace of his wife, who at one point in the story advises him to curse God and die. His friends come to him in three different cycles of advice. And they tell him, Job, you're clearly hiding a secret sin, and God is punishing you for it. And he says, I tell you, I am not. I have done nothing unrighteous. Because God actually says about Job, he is the most righteous man on the planet. Until Nate gets there. And then, at the end of the advice, Job's had it. And he says, you know what? I'm going to go to God. I'm going to go to God, and I'm going to demand answers. And there's a sense in which all of humanity goes with Job. We're putting him in front of us. Excuse me. Yeah, you do it. We're kind of hiding behind him. Because Job has every right to confront God. God, I've done nothing but serve you with my whole life and you've taken everything away from me. And now I'm riddled with boils and everyone hates me. This does not make sense. This is not fair. God, make it make sense. Why didn't you do things the way I think you should do them? So he goes to God and he's demanding an answer. And anyone that's ever thought something happened that was unfair or unjust on God's watch is behind Job going, yeah, what's the deal? And here is God's response to Job and all humans in chapter 38. You will not be surprised to learn it's one of my favorite passages. Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said, who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? The ESV is even better. It says, who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Whoops. I have a professor who said that Job demanded a man-to-man conversation with God. The problem was he was one man short. Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man. I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation a little bit. Verse 8. Job goes to God, insisting a great injustice has done. And in that moment, I want God to pull Job aside, put his arm around him, and gently lay everything out. Let me help you understand this, son. That is not what God does. God says, Job, I believe you've forgotten your place. Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? And God goes on for three chapters. At one point in the middle, sad, pathetic Job, the sacrificial lamb for humankind, says, I repent in dust and ashes. I have spoken once. I will speak no more. And God says, I'm not done. And he keeps going. And what God is saying here is, Job, I know you have your questions. I know you want to understand me and what I've done. But until you can answer what I'm asking you, until you can explain to me how I hung the world in balance and tilted it at such an axis that it exists in harmony with the sun to allow your life. Until you can understand that, you can't possibly understand the answer that I would need to give you to explain myself to you. Do you see? Until you can answer my questions, you can't handle the answer to your questions. So I'm not going to explain it to you because it would be a waste of time. It would be, Rachel Martin is over here with a newborn baby. How old is that baby? Six weeks. This is her third one. They don't even care. They bring him like right from the hospital straight to church. God can no more explain to us what he's doing and how to make his decisions and his actions make sense then I can explain this sermon to that child. It's just not going to work. So God says, Job, listen, man, I'm not going to answer your questions because you can't answer mine. And until you can, you can't handle the answer that I would give you. So until then, this is the beckon from God. Until then, I just need you to trust me. I'm in the front seat of my car. Lily insists she wants a number one. I tell her I'm going to take care of it, but I need a number one. I need you to be quiet and trust me. Sometimes God needs us to be quiet and trust him. And in that trust, acknowledge. We can't know his thoughts. We can't know his plans. We can't know his ways. They are as far from us as the universe is from the earth. And this really ought to comfort us. This ought to be seen as a good thing. We can take great solace in the grandeur and mystery of our awesome God. We are in the back seat, insisting that God make it make sense. And God is telling us, will you just trust me? Will you just trust that I'm good, that I'm lovely, that I'm wonderful, and that I love you? I don't know if you guys have noticed this or know this, but almost every time our worship pastor, Aaron, prays, he finishes the prayer with God, we need you, we trust you. And do you know that that's an intentional choice? That he and I have actually had a conversation about that. And that the reason he ends his corporate prayers with we need you and we trust you is because it's a reminder to him and a reminder to us that we choose to trust in the goodness of God, that we acknowledge that we will not always understand him. We acknowledge that his ways are higher than our ways, but we know God to be good and we know God to be just and we know him be lovely, and we know him to be merciful and gracious and kind and faithful and hopeful and holy. We know those things about our God. So even when life doesn't make sense, even when we look at the way he does things and we think, gosh, I would do this in a different way. Stories like the conversation with Job. Inter interactions like those at the burning bush, declarations like those found in Isaiah 55 should ring in our ears and remind us, yeah, you serve a God that's too big for you to understand. See, what we want, what we want is a God that's just like a little bit smarter than us. So eventually, if we work hard enough, we can understand him. And that's not who God is. He is light years apart from us. And this should give us great comfort. There's actually a book I would recommend to you guys called Wisdom and Wonder by a man named Abraham Kuyper. Abraham Kuyper was a scientist, and then I believe he was the Danish prime minister at the turn of the 19th century. And he wrote a great book called Wisdom and Wonder, and it's all about this. The fact that we serve an unknowable, unsearchable God. Now listen, I'm not saying that systematic theology isn't important. I'm not saying that seeking to understand God is an absolutely futile exercise. There's great progress to be made there. We should spend our lives searching out and seeking out the character of God and seeking to understand him to the absolute best of our capacities. It's okay to understand theology and to talk about those things. But what I see in so many Christians is a forgetfulness and a naivety to the unknown nature of God. So we don't throw out theology as if it doesn't matter, but so often we hold to it and insist that God fit inside of it, and then when he doesn't, we seem to forget that he's unknowable and unsearchable and his ways are higher than our ways. We should hold those things in tension together, seeking to understand God, knowing that we won't always. And in those times when we don't understand him and he doesn't make sense and we wouldn't do things the way he's done them, or they seem to be contrary to what we think, in those gaps of unknowing, we fill it with faith in who God is and the promises that he's made and who he says he is. We fill it with his goodness and his grandeur. And in that way, we are allowed to marvel at a marvelous, miraculous, wild, unknowable God who allows us to see parts of him that we can't know. And this is the God that we worship and we sing to. So again, it's not wrong to ask that God would make sense. It's not wrong to seek to understand. But it is wrong to insist. Because when we insist, we forget what God declares in Isaiah 55. As we close, as we close this morning, I came across this prayer in my devotional and I thought I would end the service or end the sermon this way. We praise you, O God. We acknowledge you to be the Lord. All the earth worships you, the Father everlasting. To you all angels cry aloud the heavens and all the powers in it. To you cherubim and seraphim continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts. Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of your glory. The glorious company of the apostles praise you. The good fellowship of the prophets praise you. The noble army of, we love you. We trust you. We thank you that your ways are higher than our ways. We thank you that your thoughts are as far removed from us as the end of the universe is from earth. God, we are sorry where we've tried to fit you into our intellect, into our boxes, and into our categories. We are sorry for failing to allow you to be wild and wonderful and grand and awesome. But Lord, would we be people who take strides to celebrate that, your bigness and your wonder. God, help us trust the parts that we can know. Help us to have faith in the parts that we can't know. And help us to look forward to one day when you shed light on so many things for us. And until that day comes, help us to cling to you in faith, finding comfort and solace in how big you are and how wonderful you are and how far beyond us you are. In Jesus' name, amen.

All right. Well, good morning, everybody. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. Thanks for making grace a part of your Sunday as we continue in our series in Isaiah called the Treasury of Isaiah. This week, we're going to be in Isaiah chapter 55. So if you have a Bible with you, I hope you do go ahead and turn to Isaiah 55. We're going to be looking at verses eight and nine this morning. If you don't have a Bible, there's one in the seat back in front of you. But as I'm trying to remind you guys regularly, bring your Bibles to church, mark them up, challenge me to point you to them, write prayers, write dates of prayers, underline things. Let's have some well-worn Bibles in here that we take home with us and use every day. As we approach the passage this morning, I was reminded of a conversation that we had in my Tuesday morning men's group just a week or two ago. This semester, we are reading through the gospel of Matthew. So a big focus on Jesus, life of Christ, his teachings, his miracles, his works, things like that. And I don't remember the specific conversation that we were having, but let's just say it was something along the lines of kind of wondering why Jesus seemed to always speak in riddles. Why he always would say one thing and then later would re-explain it to the disciples. Why he spoke in parables that people couldn't seem to understand. I mean, do you understand that Jesus had a conversation with a man named Nicodemus who was so intelligent amongst a group of learned men that he served on the Israeli equivalent of the Supreme Court. And when he pinned Jesus down to be like, what are you talking about? What's your message all about? That in that conversation in John chapter 3, Nicodemus says, I don't understand what you mean. Should I climb back into my mother's womb and be born again? Is that what you're talking about? And Jesus is like, maybe. And then the conversation's over. Like no more clarity after that Right? Obviously, he doesn't say maybe. That's a loose paraphrase. But we were just kind of discussing this as a group. And one of the guys in the group kind of, I don't want to embarrass anybody, so we'll just call him Emil. I called Emil. I have permission. He kind of raised his hand, asked a question that everybody has asked. And what I love about my boy Emilio is he's one of those people that has an incredible knack for asking the question that everyone else around him is asking, but they're just afraid to ask it, and he'll do it. And I love it. And so he says what we think too. Why didn't Jesus just say what he meant? Why didn't he just explain who he was and what he came to do? Why was he so shrouded in all of that mystery? It doesn't make any sense. And that's a fair question. That's a question that we all ask. Every single one of us has asked that exact same question. Why doesn't God do it this way? Why didn't Jesus heal more people? I wonder, why didn't Jesus just tell them to wash their hands? Listen, I'm not going to give away too much science, but just wash your hands sometimes. Why didn't he do that? Why didn't God organize things this way or that way or communicate himself more clearly? Why didn't God give us a systematic theology so we don't have to have spiritual debates? Why didn't Jesus perform more miracles or less miracles? Why was Jesus up in northern Israel in the country, in this unknown territory rather than in Jerusalem and in the epicenter. Why? Why didn't Jesus do it that way? Here's what we're asking underneath that question. Why doesn't the almighty, omnipotent, sovereign God of the universe do things the way that I would. And because of that, that's a stupid question. It is. And we've all asked it. But here's the deal. Here's how I know that that's a silly question. It's okay to ask it. But we have to be comfortable with the answer that we arrive at today. Here's why I know that's a silly question. Isaiah chapter 55, verses 8 and 9. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. God himself is speaking here in Isaiah 55. And he says, my ways are higher than your ways. My thoughts are higher than your thoughts. As high as the heavens are above the earth. As big and expansive as the universe is. That is the difference. The distance between the earth and the end of the universe is the difference between your intellectual comprehension and mine. It's the difference between your ways and my ways. It's the difference between your thoughts and my thoughts. This is what God himself explains to us and makes clear in scripture and in more places. He does it in Romans chapter 11 through Paul as well. And here he is saying, my thoughts are different than your thoughts. You will not understand me. And so what I want us to see is in reality, it is unbelievably naive and foolish to insist that God behave in ways that make sense to us. It is unbelievably naive of who God is, foolish about how we've estimated ourselves and our judgment, to expect God to always behave in ways that make sense to us. And yet we do this, don't we? Don't we shake our fist at God? This doesn't make any sense. You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't allow that. We do all the right things and we don't have the blessings that other people have. That's not fair. God, this evil, this atrocity is happening right now. I mean, look at what's going on in Israel, Palestine. God, how are you letting that happen? That doesn't make sense. That's not fair. We, at different points and at different times and in different ways, sometimes with a shaking fist, sometimes on bent knee with a tearful face, say, God, this doesn't make any sense. God, you're doing it wrong. God, why wouldn't you have just been more clear? And we insist that God help us see why his actions actually do make sense. Or we tell him that the things we see don't make sense, and then we somehow insist that they should. When I was enrolled in Bible college, as soon as I got done with my core work, and I got into, I got a pastoral ministries degree. As soon as I got into my degree work, they handed me this big thick book by, I'm assuming a good man named Norman Geisler. Systematic Theology is what it's called. It was a book about God and the Bible based on God and the Bible. And that book had more pages than the Bible, which is about God. That's a pretty good trick to do, Norman. And we spent two semesters working through systematic theology, where it takes all the names of God and explains them, and all the soteriology and homardiology and all the ologies and the study of sin and all the other things and salvation and what that means and baptism and why the Baptists are right and the Presbyterians are wrong because I went to one of those schools and all the things like forever, two semesters. Then I got into master's work. What's the first thing they do? They put a systematic theology in my hand. We got to get these right. We got to get all the boxes. We have to understand God. We have to be able, any situation, we have to be able to fit it in a box and explain it and understand it and have all the verses to back it up, and this is it. And then stuff starts happening outside of our theology and outside of our boxes, and we can't make any sense of it, and we insist that we should be able to make sense of it. God, I need to understand you. We insist on systematizing and categorizing a wild and wonderful God that does not submit himself to categories. We insist, Christians, and I know because I did it for years, and I lived under the impression that the person who had the most robust systematic theology and had successfully categorized and systematized the things of God in Scripture, the person who could do that the best was the godliest. That's what I used to think. But there's no better story in the Bible that tells you that God's really not interested in our categories and our systems than in Exodus chapters 3 and 4. My Bible scholars know that Exodus chapter 3 and 4 is where Moses encounters God at the burning bush. Moses is a shepherd. He's been a shepherd now for 40 years. One day, he's tending his flock, and he looks, and there's a large piece of shrubbery on fire. The fire's not dissipating. So he goes over to check it out. And the voice from the fire says, Moses, you're on holy ground. Take off your sandals. And Moses realizes he's in a conversation with God. This is strange. And the fire says, Moses, guy who's not important in any way, I would like you to go back to Pharaoh, the most powerful man in the world. And I would like you to tell him to release my people, the foundation of his economy, just let them walk out. And Moses says, okay, what's your name? And God says, I am. I am that I am. And Moses says, okay, when I go to Pharaoh, who should I say sent me? And God says, tell him I am sent you. The rest of the conversation is pretty remarkable. I would encourage you to read it. But it is amazing to me, equal parts that this is true and equal parts that we tend to miss it. You understand that the God we serve, the God we gather to worship and sing to, when we say his name is holy, we don't even know if that's right. Do you understand that the God we serve that many of us have devoted our lives to, we don't even know his name because he won't tell us. He's so resistant to categories and to being systematized that he wouldn't even tell us his name when we outright asked him. We're like, listen, I don't want to know for personal curiosity. I'm going to have to give it as backup when I go to Pharaoh and God's like, just tell him I am sent you. And what I love about that response from God, there's so many implications there. We could spend an entire Sunday morning on it. But what I love about that response from God with what is your name? I am. Is what he's saying implicitly is I will not submit myself to your categories. I will not submit myself to your systems. I will not be contained by the name that you give me. I will not be contained by a name that you've requested I give myself. We serve a God who is remarkably resistant to categorization and to systemization. Does it not occur to you that if God wanted to be systematically understood, if God wanted to be categorized and give us all the boxes to put all the things so we could perfectly understand life in the universe and time and space, does it not occur to you that he could have done it? He could have. He could have made this systematic theology. He could have made it very clear. He could have, Jesus could have done what we want him to do and spoken with more clarity during his ministry and left less mystery in the margins of his speech and of his stories. He could have done that and yet he chose not to. And in the face of all of this evidence, in the face of all of this evidence of a messy Bible that tells a messy story where God claims in different places, you can't understand me. My ways are higher than your ways. We want to know your name, God. I'm not going to give you that because I won't be reduced to that. Jesus, why do you speak in parables? Well, I'm not going to tell you that, but I'll explain this last one to you. We tend to sweep all of that aside and continue to grab God by the proverbial shirt collar and say, no, but make it make sense. Despite a landslide of evidence to the contrary of that possibility. Last Sunday, I had the kids on Sunday night, Jen serves in the youth, just as a way to avoid the children. She doesn't even really do anything while she's here. And so I had the kids, wasn't much in the house, so I said, let's go to Zaxby's. So I throw them in the car. Zaxby's is right down the road. That's a dangerous game for me. And I asked John, our youngest, he's three, what do you want? You want grilled cheese? You want chicken tenders? He says, chicken tenders. Great. Lily, what do you want? She says, I want a number one. I said, is that a Zax snack? She says, yeah. I said, all right. I said, I'm going to get a five piece, and then I'll let y'all split it up. And she goes, no, no, no, I want a number one. I said, yeah, baby, I understand. You're going to be taken care of. I want a number one. And I don't know about you guys that also have an eight-year-old or have had eight-year-olds, but they're insistent little boogers, you know? Really mean it. And we're kind of going back and forth. I want a number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone, you know, really mean it. And she, you know, we're kind of going back and forth. I want number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone. You know, whatever. And then I finally, I just said, and I knew the answer to this, but I just said, Lily, what's in the number one? And she says, three chicken tenders and a piece of toast and fries and a Zach sauce. And I said, I know when we get home, you will have all of those things in front of you. Okay? Okay. So then we get to the drive-thru, and we get to the window, and I say, hey, let me get a five-piece, no slaw, double fries, so I can split them 50-50 with the kids so there's no arguments when we get there. And as I'm ordering this, from the back, no, number one! So I struck her. I just turned around. No, I didn't. So I just said, Lily, just trust Daddy. Just trust me for just a second, all right? And she pipes down, you know. And then, you know, I did that to make it cheaper, but Zaxby's is also offering four shrimp for $3. And so if you ever wonder why, when you go through a drive-thru and they're like, hey, welcome to wherever, would you like to try our new yada, yada, yada? And you're like, no, I came here to order the thing that I want. I don't need you to suggest the thing to me. I'm the reason they suggest that to you. Because whenever they say, would you like to try our new thing? I'm like, yes, yes, I would. Say no more. You don't have to tell me about it. Because you don't get to look at it like this by stopping at one sandwich. You know what I mean? So I threw on the shrimp with the free Zach's tail sauce, and it was great. We get back to the house. Lily's brooding the whole way home. She's so upset because I haven't gotten her the dinner that she wants. We get back to the house, set them down. I break up everything. I put in front of her exactly what a number one is. I said, do you see? And she goes, oh, thanks daddy. And just eats. And I'm like, I am convinced as silly as this is that one day, one day, when we sit down in the great banquet in heaven, we will find that the whole time God has been preparing us a number one. And we will go, oh, thanks, Abba. I know that that's silly. I know it is. But I think it means something. We in this life insist so hard that God would make sense to us and that we would understand why he does all the things that he does. And I think, comparatively speaking, we are a petulant child sitting in the back, insisting that God has got our order wrong. And one day, we will sit down with him, and we will go, yeah, this makes sense now. I get it. I understand. I'm sorry. And here's the thing. If there's ever been anybody who had the right to insist that God start making sense, it was Job. Okay? When we think about grabbing God by the lapels and make this make sense for me, I've got a number one. Why aren't you ordering me a number one? This is what you should be doing, God. If there's ever been anyone in history that had the right to ask that question of God, it was Job. Now, if you don't know off the top of your head the story of Job, I'm sure you know bits and pieces of it. The book of Job is the first book of wisdom. It's probably the first book of the Bible that was ever written, the book of Job. God and Satan are having a conversation, and Satan tells God, the only reason your servant Job honors you is because you bless him. And God says, okay, take his stuff away. He will not renounce me. And Satan proceeds to systematically take everything there was away from Job. He loses his children. He loses his wealth. He loses his land. He loses his health. He even loses the peace of his wife, who at one point in the story advises him to curse God and die. His friends come to him in three different cycles of advice. And they tell him, Job, you're clearly hiding a secret sin, and God is punishing you for it. And he says, I tell you, I am not. I have done nothing unrighteous. Because God actually says about Job, he is the most righteous man on the planet. Until Nate gets there. And then, at the end of the advice, Job's had it. And he says, you know what? I'm going to go to God. I'm going to go to God, and I'm going to demand answers. And there's a sense in which all of humanity goes with Job. We're putting him in front of us. Excuse me. Yeah, you do it. We're kind of hiding behind him. Because Job has every right to confront God. God, I've done nothing but serve you with my whole life and you've taken everything away from me. And now I'm riddled with boils and everyone hates me. This does not make sense. This is not fair. God, make it make sense. Why didn't you do things the way I think you should do them? So he goes to God and he's demanding an answer. And anyone that's ever thought something happened that was unfair or unjust on God's watch is behind Job going, yeah, what's the deal? And here is God's response to Job and all humans in chapter 38. You will not be surprised to learn it's one of my favorite passages. Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said, who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? The ESV is even better. It says, who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Whoops. I have a professor who said that Job demanded a man-to-man conversation with God. The problem was he was one man short. Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man. I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation a little bit. Verse 8. Job goes to God, insisting a great injustice has done. And in that moment, I want God to pull Job aside, put his arm around him, and gently lay everything out. Let me help you understand this, son. That is not what God does. God says, Job, I believe you've forgotten your place. Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? And God goes on for three chapters. At one point in the middle, sad, pathetic Job, the sacrificial lamb for humankind, says, I repent in dust and ashes. I have spoken once. I will speak no more. And God says, I'm not done. And he keeps going. And what God is saying here is, Job, I know you have your questions. I know you want to understand me and what I've done. But until you can answer what I'm asking you, until you can explain to me how I hung the world in balance and tilted it at such an axis that it exists in harmony with the sun to allow your life. Until you can understand that, you can't possibly understand the answer that I would need to give you to explain myself to you. Do you see? Until you can answer my questions, you can't handle the answer to your questions. So I'm not going to explain it to you because it would be a waste of time. It would be, Rachel Martin is over here with a newborn baby. How old is that baby? Six weeks. This is her third one. They don't even care. They bring him like right from the hospital straight to church. God can no more explain to us what he's doing and how to make his decisions and his actions make sense then I can explain this sermon to that child. It's just not going to work. So God says, Job, listen, man, I'm not going to answer your questions because you can't answer mine. And until you can, you can't handle the answer that I would give you. So until then, this is the beckon from God. Until then, I just need you to trust me. I'm in the front seat of my car. Lily insists she wants a number one. I tell her I'm going to take care of it, but I need a number one. I need you to be quiet and trust me. Sometimes God needs us to be quiet and trust him. And in that trust, acknowledge. We can't know his thoughts. We can't know his plans. We can't know his ways. They are as far from us as the universe is from the earth. And this really ought to comfort us. This ought to be seen as a good thing. We can take great solace in the grandeur and mystery of our awesome God. We are in the back seat, insisting that God make it make sense. And God is telling us, will you just trust me? Will you just trust that I'm good, that I'm lovely, that I'm wonderful, and that I love you? I don't know if you guys have noticed this or know this, but almost every time our worship pastor, Aaron, prays, he finishes the prayer with God, we need you, we trust you. And do you know that that's an intentional choice? That he and I have actually had a conversation about that. And that the reason he ends his corporate prayers with we need you and we trust you is because it's a reminder to him and a reminder to us that we choose to trust in the goodness of God, that we acknowledge that we will not always understand him. We acknowledge that his ways are higher than our ways, but we know God to be good and we know God to be just and we know him be lovely, and we know him to be merciful and gracious and kind and faithful and hopeful and holy. We know those things about our God. So even when life doesn't make sense, even when we look at the way he does things and we think, gosh, I would do this in a different way. Stories like the conversation with Job. Inter interactions like those at the burning bush, declarations like those found in Isaiah 55 should ring in our ears and remind us, yeah, you serve a God that's too big for you to understand. See, what we want, what we want is a God that's just like a little bit smarter than us. So eventually, if we work hard enough, we can understand him. And that's not who God is. He is light years apart from us. And this should give us great comfort. There's actually a book I would recommend to you guys called Wisdom and Wonder by a man named Abraham Kuyper. Abraham Kuyper was a scientist, and then I believe he was the Danish prime minister at the turn of the 19th century. And he wrote a great book called Wisdom and Wonder, and it's all about this. The fact that we serve an unknowable, unsearchable God. Now listen, I'm not saying that systematic theology isn't important. I'm not saying that seeking to understand God is an absolutely futile exercise. There's great progress to be made there. We should spend our lives searching out and seeking out the character of God and seeking to understand him to the absolute best of our capacities. It's okay to understand theology and to talk about those things. But what I see in so many Christians is a forgetfulness and a naivety to the unknown nature of God. So we don't throw out theology as if it doesn't matter, but so often we hold to it and insist that God fit inside of it, and then when he doesn't, we seem to forget that he's unknowable and unsearchable and his ways are higher than our ways. We should hold those things in tension together, seeking to understand God, knowing that we won't always. And in those times when we don't understand him and he doesn't make sense and we wouldn't do things the way he's done them, or they seem to be contrary to what we think, in those gaps of unknowing, we fill it with faith in who God is and the promises that he's made and who he says he is. We fill it with his goodness and his grandeur. And in that way, we are allowed to marvel at a marvelous, miraculous, wild, unknowable God who allows us to see parts of him that we can't know. And this is the God that we worship and we sing to. So again, it's not wrong to ask that God would make sense. It's not wrong to seek to understand. But it is wrong to insist. Because when we insist, we forget what God declares in Isaiah 55. As we close, as we close this morning, I came across this prayer in my devotional and I thought I would end the service or end the sermon this way. We praise you, O God. We acknowledge you to be the Lord. All the earth worships you, the Father everlasting. To you all angels cry aloud the heavens and all the powers in it. To you cherubim and seraphim continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts. Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of your glory. The glorious company of the apostles praise you. The good fellowship of the prophets praise you. The noble army of, we love you. We trust you. We thank you that your ways are higher than our ways. We thank you that your thoughts are as far removed from us as the end of the universe is from earth. God, we are sorry where we've tried to fit you into our intellect, into our boxes, and into our categories. We are sorry for failing to allow you to be wild and wonderful and grand and awesome. But Lord, would we be people who take strides to celebrate that, your bigness and your wonder. God, help us trust the parts that we can know. Help us to have faith in the parts that we can't know. And help us to look forward to one day when you shed light on so many things for us. And until that day comes, help us to cling to you in faith, finding comfort and solace in how big you are and how wonderful you are and how far beyond us you are. In Jesus' name, amen.

All right. Well, good morning, everybody. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. Thanks for making grace a part of your Sunday as we continue in our series in Isaiah called the Treasury of Isaiah. This week, we're going to be in Isaiah chapter 55. So if you have a Bible with you, I hope you do go ahead and turn to Isaiah 55. We're going to be looking at verses eight and nine this morning. If you don't have a Bible, there's one in the seat back in front of you. But as I'm trying to remind you guys regularly, bring your Bibles to church, mark them up, challenge me to point you to them, write prayers, write dates of prayers, underline things. Let's have some well-worn Bibles in here that we take home with us and use every day. As we approach the passage this morning, I was reminded of a conversation that we had in my Tuesday morning men's group just a week or two ago. This semester, we are reading through the gospel of Matthew. So a big focus on Jesus, life of Christ, his teachings, his miracles, his works, things like that. And I don't remember the specific conversation that we were having, but let's just say it was something along the lines of kind of wondering why Jesus seemed to always speak in riddles. Why he always would say one thing and then later would re-explain it to the disciples. Why he spoke in parables that people couldn't seem to understand. I mean, do you understand that Jesus had a conversation with a man named Nicodemus who was so intelligent amongst a group of learned men that he served on the Israeli equivalent of the Supreme Court. And when he pinned Jesus down to be like, what are you talking about? What's your message all about? That in that conversation in John chapter 3, Nicodemus says, I don't understand what you mean. Should I climb back into my mother's womb and be born again? Is that what you're talking about? And Jesus is like, maybe. And then the conversation's over. Like no more clarity after that Right? Obviously, he doesn't say maybe. That's a loose paraphrase. But we were just kind of discussing this as a group. And one of the guys in the group kind of, I don't want to embarrass anybody, so we'll just call him Emil. I called Emil. I have permission. He kind of raised his hand, asked a question that everybody has asked. And what I love about my boy Emilio is he's one of those people that has an incredible knack for asking the question that everyone else around him is asking, but they're just afraid to ask it, and he'll do it. And I love it. And so he says what we think too. Why didn't Jesus just say what he meant? Why didn't he just explain who he was and what he came to do? Why was he so shrouded in all of that mystery? It doesn't make any sense. And that's a fair question. That's a question that we all ask. Every single one of us has asked that exact same question. Why doesn't God do it this way? Why didn't Jesus heal more people? I wonder, why didn't Jesus just tell them to wash their hands? Listen, I'm not going to give away too much science, but just wash your hands sometimes. Why didn't he do that? Why didn't God organize things this way or that way or communicate himself more clearly? Why didn't God give us a systematic theology so we don't have to have spiritual debates? Why didn't Jesus perform more miracles or less miracles? Why was Jesus up in northern Israel in the country, in this unknown territory rather than in Jerusalem and in the epicenter. Why? Why didn't Jesus do it that way? Here's what we're asking underneath that question. Why doesn't the almighty, omnipotent, sovereign God of the universe do things the way that I would. And because of that, that's a stupid question. It is. And we've all asked it. But here's the deal. Here's how I know that that's a silly question. It's okay to ask it. But we have to be comfortable with the answer that we arrive at today. Here's why I know that's a silly question. Isaiah chapter 55, verses 8 and 9. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. God himself is speaking here in Isaiah 55. And he says, my ways are higher than your ways. My thoughts are higher than your thoughts. As high as the heavens are above the earth. As big and expansive as the universe is. That is the difference. The distance between the earth and the end of the universe is the difference between your intellectual comprehension and mine. It's the difference between your ways and my ways. It's the difference between your thoughts and my thoughts. This is what God himself explains to us and makes clear in scripture and in more places. He does it in Romans chapter 11 through Paul as well. And here he is saying, my thoughts are different than your thoughts. You will not understand me. And so what I want us to see is in reality, it is unbelievably naive and foolish to insist that God behave in ways that make sense to us. It is unbelievably naive of who God is, foolish about how we've estimated ourselves and our judgment, to expect God to always behave in ways that make sense to us. And yet we do this, don't we? Don't we shake our fist at God? This doesn't make any sense. You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't allow that. We do all the right things and we don't have the blessings that other people have. That's not fair. God, this evil, this atrocity is happening right now. I mean, look at what's going on in Israel, Palestine. God, how are you letting that happen? That doesn't make sense. That's not fair. We, at different points and at different times and in different ways, sometimes with a shaking fist, sometimes on bent knee with a tearful face, say, God, this doesn't make any sense. God, you're doing it wrong. God, why wouldn't you have just been more clear? And we insist that God help us see why his actions actually do make sense. Or we tell him that the things we see don't make sense, and then we somehow insist that they should. When I was enrolled in Bible college, as soon as I got done with my core work, and I got into, I got a pastoral ministries degree. As soon as I got into my degree work, they handed me this big thick book by, I'm assuming a good man named Norman Geisler. Systematic Theology is what it's called. It was a book about God and the Bible based on God and the Bible. And that book had more pages than the Bible, which is about God. That's a pretty good trick to do, Norman. And we spent two semesters working through systematic theology, where it takes all the names of God and explains them, and all the soteriology and homardiology and all the ologies and the study of sin and all the other things and salvation and what that means and baptism and why the Baptists are right and the Presbyterians are wrong because I went to one of those schools and all the things like forever, two semesters. Then I got into master's work. What's the first thing they do? They put a systematic theology in my hand. We got to get these right. We got to get all the boxes. We have to understand God. We have to be able, any situation, we have to be able to fit it in a box and explain it and understand it and have all the verses to back it up, and this is it. And then stuff starts happening outside of our theology and outside of our boxes, and we can't make any sense of it, and we insist that we should be able to make sense of it. God, I need to understand you. We insist on systematizing and categorizing a wild and wonderful God that does not submit himself to categories. We insist, Christians, and I know because I did it for years, and I lived under the impression that the person who had the most robust systematic theology and had successfully categorized and systematized the things of God in Scripture, the person who could do that the best was the godliest. That's what I used to think. But there's no better story in the Bible that tells you that God's really not interested in our categories and our systems than in Exodus chapters 3 and 4. My Bible scholars know that Exodus chapter 3 and 4 is where Moses encounters God at the burning bush. Moses is a shepherd. He's been a shepherd now for 40 years. One day, he's tending his flock, and he looks, and there's a large piece of shrubbery on fire. The fire's not dissipating. So he goes over to check it out. And the voice from the fire says, Moses, you're on holy ground. Take off your sandals. And Moses realizes he's in a conversation with God. This is strange. And the fire says, Moses, guy who's not important in any way, I would like you to go back to Pharaoh, the most powerful man in the world. And I would like you to tell him to release my people, the foundation of his economy, just let them walk out. And Moses says, okay, what's your name? And God says, I am. I am that I am. And Moses says, okay, when I go to Pharaoh, who should I say sent me? And God says, tell him I am sent you. The rest of the conversation is pretty remarkable. I would encourage you to read it. But it is amazing to me, equal parts that this is true and equal parts that we tend to miss it. You understand that the God we serve, the God we gather to worship and sing to, when we say his name is holy, we don't even know if that's right. Do you understand that the God we serve that many of us have devoted our lives to, we don't even know his name because he won't tell us. He's so resistant to categories and to being systematized that he wouldn't even tell us his name when we outright asked him. We're like, listen, I don't want to know for personal curiosity. I'm going to have to give it as backup when I go to Pharaoh and God's like, just tell him I am sent you. And what I love about that response from God, there's so many implications there. We could spend an entire Sunday morning on it. But what I love about that response from God with what is your name? I am. Is what he's saying implicitly is I will not submit myself to your categories. I will not submit myself to your systems. I will not be contained by the name that you give me. I will not be contained by a name that you've requested I give myself. We serve a God who is remarkably resistant to categorization and to systemization. Does it not occur to you that if God wanted to be systematically understood, if God wanted to be categorized and give us all the boxes to put all the things so we could perfectly understand life in the universe and time and space, does it not occur to you that he could have done it? He could have. He could have made this systematic theology. He could have made it very clear. He could have, Jesus could have done what we want him to do and spoken with more clarity during his ministry and left less mystery in the margins of his speech and of his stories. He could have done that and yet he chose not to. And in the face of all of this evidence, in the face of all of this evidence of a messy Bible that tells a messy story where God claims in different places, you can't understand me. My ways are higher than your ways. We want to know your name, God. I'm not going to give you that because I won't be reduced to that. Jesus, why do you speak in parables? Well, I'm not going to tell you that, but I'll explain this last one to you. We tend to sweep all of that aside and continue to grab God by the proverbial shirt collar and say, no, but make it make sense. Despite a landslide of evidence to the contrary of that possibility. Last Sunday, I had the kids on Sunday night, Jen serves in the youth, just as a way to avoid the children. She doesn't even really do anything while she's here. And so I had the kids, wasn't much in the house, so I said, let's go to Zaxby's. So I throw them in the car. Zaxby's is right down the road. That's a dangerous game for me. And I asked John, our youngest, he's three, what do you want? You want grilled cheese? You want chicken tenders? He says, chicken tenders. Great. Lily, what do you want? She says, I want a number one. I said, is that a Zax snack? She says, yeah. I said, all right. I said, I'm going to get a five piece, and then I'll let y'all split it up. And she goes, no, no, no, I want a number one. I said, yeah, baby, I understand. You're going to be taken care of. I want a number one. And I don't know about you guys that also have an eight-year-old or have had eight-year-olds, but they're insistent little boogers, you know? Really mean it. And we're kind of going back and forth. I want a number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone, you know, really mean it. And she, you know, we're kind of going back and forth. I want number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone. You know, whatever. And then I finally, I just said, and I knew the answer to this, but I just said, Lily, what's in the number one? And she says, three chicken tenders and a piece of toast and fries and a Zach sauce. And I said, I know when we get home, you will have all of those things in front of you. Okay? Okay. So then we get to the drive-thru, and we get to the window, and I say, hey, let me get a five-piece, no slaw, double fries, so I can split them 50-50 with the kids so there's no arguments when we get there. And as I'm ordering this, from the back, no, number one! So I struck her. I just turned around. No, I didn't. So I just said, Lily, just trust Daddy. Just trust me for just a second, all right? And she pipes down, you know. And then, you know, I did that to make it cheaper, but Zaxby's is also offering four shrimp for $3. And so if you ever wonder why, when you go through a drive-thru and they're like, hey, welcome to wherever, would you like to try our new yada, yada, yada? And you're like, no, I came here to order the thing that I want. I don't need you to suggest the thing to me. I'm the reason they suggest that to you. Because whenever they say, would you like to try our new thing? I'm like, yes, yes, I would. Say no more. You don't have to tell me about it. Because you don't get to look at it like this by stopping at one sandwich. You know what I mean? So I threw on the shrimp with the free Zach's tail sauce, and it was great. We get back to the house. Lily's brooding the whole way home. She's so upset because I haven't gotten her the dinner that she wants. We get back to the house, set them down. I break up everything. I put in front of her exactly what a number one is. I said, do you see? And she goes, oh, thanks daddy. And just eats. And I'm like, I am convinced as silly as this is that one day, one day, when we sit down in the great banquet in heaven, we will find that the whole time God has been preparing us a number one. And we will go, oh, thanks, Abba. I know that that's silly. I know it is. But I think it means something. We in this life insist so hard that God would make sense to us and that we would understand why he does all the things that he does. And I think, comparatively speaking, we are a petulant child sitting in the back, insisting that God has got our order wrong. And one day, we will sit down with him, and we will go, yeah, this makes sense now. I get it. I understand. I'm sorry. And here's the thing. If there's ever been anybody who had the right to insist that God start making sense, it was Job. Okay? When we think about grabbing God by the lapels and make this make sense for me, I've got a number one. Why aren't you ordering me a number one? This is what you should be doing, God. If there's ever been anyone in history that had the right to ask that question of God, it was Job. Now, if you don't know off the top of your head the story of Job, I'm sure you know bits and pieces of it. The book of Job is the first book of wisdom. It's probably the first book of the Bible that was ever written, the book of Job. God and Satan are having a conversation, and Satan tells God, the only reason your servant Job honors you is because you bless him. And God says, okay, take his stuff away. He will not renounce me. And Satan proceeds to systematically take everything there was away from Job. He loses his children. He loses his wealth. He loses his land. He loses his health. He even loses the peace of his wife, who at one point in the story advises him to curse God and die. His friends come to him in three different cycles of advice. And they tell him, Job, you're clearly hiding a secret sin, and God is punishing you for it. And he says, I tell you, I am not. I have done nothing unrighteous. Because God actually says about Job, he is the most righteous man on the planet. Until Nate gets there. And then, at the end of the advice, Job's had it. And he says, you know what? I'm going to go to God. I'm going to go to God, and I'm going to demand answers. And there's a sense in which all of humanity goes with Job. We're putting him in front of us. Excuse me. Yeah, you do it. We're kind of hiding behind him. Because Job has every right to confront God. God, I've done nothing but serve you with my whole life and you've taken everything away from me. And now I'm riddled with boils and everyone hates me. This does not make sense. This is not fair. God, make it make sense. Why didn't you do things the way I think you should do them? So he goes to God and he's demanding an answer. And anyone that's ever thought something happened that was unfair or unjust on God's watch is behind Job going, yeah, what's the deal? And here is God's response to Job and all humans in chapter 38. You will not be surprised to learn it's one of my favorite passages. Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said, who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? The ESV is even better. It says, who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Whoops. I have a professor who said that Job demanded a man-to-man conversation with God. The problem was he was one man short. Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man. I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation a little bit. Verse 8. Job goes to God, insisting a great injustice has done. And in that moment, I want God to pull Job aside, put his arm around him, and gently lay everything out. Let me help you understand this, son. That is not what God does. God says, Job, I believe you've forgotten your place. Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? And God goes on for three chapters. At one point in the middle, sad, pathetic Job, the sacrificial lamb for humankind, says, I repent in dust and ashes. I have spoken once. I will speak no more. And God says, I'm not done. And he keeps going. And what God is saying here is, Job, I know you have your questions. I know you want to understand me and what I've done. But until you can answer what I'm asking you, until you can explain to me how I hung the world in balance and tilted it at such an axis that it exists in harmony with the sun to allow your life. Until you can understand that, you can't possibly understand the answer that I would need to give you to explain myself to you. Do you see? Until you can answer my questions, you can't handle the answer to your questions. So I'm not going to explain it to you because it would be a waste of time. It would be, Rachel Martin is over here with a newborn baby. How old is that baby? Six weeks. This is her third one. They don't even care. They bring him like right from the hospital straight to church. God can no more explain to us what he's doing and how to make his decisions and his actions make sense then I can explain this sermon to that child. It's just not going to work. So God says, Job, listen, man, I'm not going to answer your questions because you can't answer mine. And until you can, you can't handle the answer that I would give you. So until then, this is the beckon from God. Until then, I just need you to trust me. I'm in the front seat of my car. Lily insists she wants a number one. I tell her I'm going to take care of it, but I need a number one. I need you to be quiet and trust me. Sometimes God needs us to be quiet and trust him. And in that trust, acknowledge. We can't know his thoughts. We can't know his plans. We can't know his ways. They are as far from us as the universe is from the earth. And this really ought to comfort us. This ought to be seen as a good thing. We can take great solace in the grandeur and mystery of our awesome God. We are in the back seat, insisting that God make it make sense. And God is telling us, will you just trust me? Will you just trust that I'm good, that I'm lovely, that I'm wonderful, and that I love you? I don't know if you guys have noticed this or know this, but almost every time our worship pastor, Aaron, prays, he finishes the prayer with God, we need you, we trust you. And do you know that that's an intentional choice? That he and I have actually had a conversation about that. And that the reason he ends his corporate prayers with we need you and we trust you is because it's a reminder to him and a reminder to us that we choose to trust in the goodness of God, that we acknowledge that we will not always understand him. We acknowledge that his ways are higher than our ways, but we know God to be good and we know God to be just and we know him be lovely, and we know him to be merciful and gracious and kind and faithful and hopeful and holy. We know those things about our God. So even when life doesn't make sense, even when we look at the way he does things and we think, gosh, I would do this in a different way. Stories like the conversation with Job. Inter interactions like those at the burning bush, declarations like those found in Isaiah 55 should ring in our ears and remind us, yeah, you serve a God that's too big for you to understand. See, what we want, what we want is a God that's just like a little bit smarter than us. So eventually, if we work hard enough, we can understand him. And that's not who God is. He is light years apart from us. And this should give us great comfort. There's actually a book I would recommend to you guys called Wisdom and Wonder by a man named Abraham Kuyper. Abraham Kuyper was a scientist, and then I believe he was the Danish prime minister at the turn of the 19th century. And he wrote a great book called Wisdom and Wonder, and it's all about this. The fact that we serve an unknowable, unsearchable God. Now listen, I'm not saying that systematic theology isn't important. I'm not saying that seeking to understand God is an absolutely futile exercise. There's great progress to be made there. We should spend our lives searching out and seeking out the character of God and seeking to understand him to the absolute best of our capacities. It's okay to understand theology and to talk about those things. But what I see in so many Christians is a forgetfulness and a naivety to the unknown nature of God. So we don't throw out theology as if it doesn't matter, but so often we hold to it and insist that God fit inside of it, and then when he doesn't, we seem to forget that he's unknowable and unsearchable and his ways are higher than our ways. We should hold those things in tension together, seeking to understand God, knowing that we won't always. And in those times when we don't understand him and he doesn't make sense and we wouldn't do things the way he's done them, or they seem to be contrary to what we think, in those gaps of unknowing, we fill it with faith in who God is and the promises that he's made and who he says he is. We fill it with his goodness and his grandeur. And in that way, we are allowed to marvel at a marvelous, miraculous, wild, unknowable God who allows us to see parts of him that we can't know. And this is the God that we worship and we sing to. So again, it's not wrong to ask that God would make sense. It's not wrong to seek to understand. But it is wrong to insist. Because when we insist, we forget what God declares in Isaiah 55. As we close, as we close this morning, I came across this prayer in my devotional and I thought I would end the service or end the sermon this way. We praise you, O God. We acknowledge you to be the Lord. All the earth worships you, the Father everlasting. To you all angels cry aloud the heavens and all the powers in it. To you cherubim and seraphim continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts. Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of your glory. The glorious company of the apostles praise you. The good fellowship of the prophets praise you. The noble army of, we love you. We trust you. We thank you that your ways are higher than our ways. We thank you that your thoughts are as far removed from us as the end of the universe is from earth. God, we are sorry where we've tried to fit you into our intellect, into our boxes, and into our categories. We are sorry for failing to allow you to be wild and wonderful and grand and awesome. But Lord, would we be people who take strides to celebrate that, your bigness and your wonder. God, help us trust the parts that we can know. Help us to have faith in the parts that we can't know. And help us to look forward to one day when you shed light on so many things for us. And until that day comes, help us to cling to you in faith, finding comfort and solace in how big you are and how wonderful you are and how far beyond us you are. In Jesus' name, amen.

All right. Well, good morning, everybody. My name is Nate. I get to be one of the pastors here. Thanks for making grace a part of your Sunday as we continue in our series in Isaiah called the Treasury of Isaiah. This week, we're going to be in Isaiah chapter 55. So if you have a Bible with you, I hope you do go ahead and turn to Isaiah 55. We're going to be looking at verses eight and nine this morning. If you don't have a Bible, there's one in the seat back in front of you. But as I'm trying to remind you guys regularly, bring your Bibles to church, mark them up, challenge me to point you to them, write prayers, write dates of prayers, underline things. Let's have some well-worn Bibles in here that we take home with us and use every day. As we approach the passage this morning, I was reminded of a conversation that we had in my Tuesday morning men's group just a week or two ago. This semester, we are reading through the gospel of Matthew. So a big focus on Jesus, life of Christ, his teachings, his miracles, his works, things like that. And I don't remember the specific conversation that we were having, but let's just say it was something along the lines of kind of wondering why Jesus seemed to always speak in riddles. Why he always would say one thing and then later would re-explain it to the disciples. Why he spoke in parables that people couldn't seem to understand. I mean, do you understand that Jesus had a conversation with a man named Nicodemus who was so intelligent amongst a group of learned men that he served on the Israeli equivalent of the Supreme Court. And when he pinned Jesus down to be like, what are you talking about? What's your message all about? That in that conversation in John chapter 3, Nicodemus says, I don't understand what you mean. Should I climb back into my mother's womb and be born again? Is that what you're talking about? And Jesus is like, maybe. And then the conversation's over. Like no more clarity after that Right? Obviously, he doesn't say maybe. That's a loose paraphrase. But we were just kind of discussing this as a group. And one of the guys in the group kind of, I don't want to embarrass anybody, so we'll just call him Emil. I called Emil. I have permission. He kind of raised his hand, asked a question that everybody has asked. And what I love about my boy Emilio is he's one of those people that has an incredible knack for asking the question that everyone else around him is asking, but they're just afraid to ask it, and he'll do it. And I love it. And so he says what we think too. Why didn't Jesus just say what he meant? Why didn't he just explain who he was and what he came to do? Why was he so shrouded in all of that mystery? It doesn't make any sense. And that's a fair question. That's a question that we all ask. Every single one of us has asked that exact same question. Why doesn't God do it this way? Why didn't Jesus heal more people? I wonder, why didn't Jesus just tell them to wash their hands? Listen, I'm not going to give away too much science, but just wash your hands sometimes. Why didn't he do that? Why didn't God organize things this way or that way or communicate himself more clearly? Why didn't God give us a systematic theology so we don't have to have spiritual debates? Why didn't Jesus perform more miracles or less miracles? Why was Jesus up in northern Israel in the country, in this unknown territory rather than in Jerusalem and in the epicenter. Why? Why didn't Jesus do it that way? Here's what we're asking underneath that question. Why doesn't the almighty, omnipotent, sovereign God of the universe do things the way that I would. And because of that, that's a stupid question. It is. And we've all asked it. But here's the deal. Here's how I know that that's a silly question. It's okay to ask it. But we have to be comfortable with the answer that we arrive at today. Here's why I know that's a silly question. Isaiah chapter 55, verses 8 and 9. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. God himself is speaking here in Isaiah 55. And he says, my ways are higher than your ways. My thoughts are higher than your thoughts. As high as the heavens are above the earth. As big and expansive as the universe is. That is the difference. The distance between the earth and the end of the universe is the difference between your intellectual comprehension and mine. It's the difference between your ways and my ways. It's the difference between your thoughts and my thoughts. This is what God himself explains to us and makes clear in scripture and in more places. He does it in Romans chapter 11 through Paul as well. And here he is saying, my thoughts are different than your thoughts. You will not understand me. And so what I want us to see is in reality, it is unbelievably naive and foolish to insist that God behave in ways that make sense to us. It is unbelievably naive of who God is, foolish about how we've estimated ourselves and our judgment, to expect God to always behave in ways that make sense to us. And yet we do this, don't we? Don't we shake our fist at God? This doesn't make any sense. You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't allow that. We do all the right things and we don't have the blessings that other people have. That's not fair. God, this evil, this atrocity is happening right now. I mean, look at what's going on in Israel, Palestine. God, how are you letting that happen? That doesn't make sense. That's not fair. We, at different points and at different times and in different ways, sometimes with a shaking fist, sometimes on bent knee with a tearful face, say, God, this doesn't make any sense. God, you're doing it wrong. God, why wouldn't you have just been more clear? And we insist that God help us see why his actions actually do make sense. Or we tell him that the things we see don't make sense, and then we somehow insist that they should. When I was enrolled in Bible college, as soon as I got done with my core work, and I got into, I got a pastoral ministries degree. As soon as I got into my degree work, they handed me this big thick book by, I'm assuming a good man named Norman Geisler. Systematic Theology is what it's called. It was a book about God and the Bible based on God and the Bible. And that book had more pages than the Bible, which is about God. That's a pretty good trick to do, Norman. And we spent two semesters working through systematic theology, where it takes all the names of God and explains them, and all the soteriology and homardiology and all the ologies and the study of sin and all the other things and salvation and what that means and baptism and why the Baptists are right and the Presbyterians are wrong because I went to one of those schools and all the things like forever, two semesters. Then I got into master's work. What's the first thing they do? They put a systematic theology in my hand. We got to get these right. We got to get all the boxes. We have to understand God. We have to be able, any situation, we have to be able to fit it in a box and explain it and understand it and have all the verses to back it up, and this is it. And then stuff starts happening outside of our theology and outside of our boxes, and we can't make any sense of it, and we insist that we should be able to make sense of it. God, I need to understand you. We insist on systematizing and categorizing a wild and wonderful God that does not submit himself to categories. We insist, Christians, and I know because I did it for years, and I lived under the impression that the person who had the most robust systematic theology and had successfully categorized and systematized the things of God in Scripture, the person who could do that the best was the godliest. That's what I used to think. But there's no better story in the Bible that tells you that God's really not interested in our categories and our systems than in Exodus chapters 3 and 4. My Bible scholars know that Exodus chapter 3 and 4 is where Moses encounters God at the burning bush. Moses is a shepherd. He's been a shepherd now for 40 years. One day, he's tending his flock, and he looks, and there's a large piece of shrubbery on fire. The fire's not dissipating. So he goes over to check it out. And the voice from the fire says, Moses, you're on holy ground. Take off your sandals. And Moses realizes he's in a conversation with God. This is strange. And the fire says, Moses, guy who's not important in any way, I would like you to go back to Pharaoh, the most powerful man in the world. And I would like you to tell him to release my people, the foundation of his economy, just let them walk out. And Moses says, okay, what's your name? And God says, I am. I am that I am. And Moses says, okay, when I go to Pharaoh, who should I say sent me? And God says, tell him I am sent you. The rest of the conversation is pretty remarkable. I would encourage you to read it. But it is amazing to me, equal parts that this is true and equal parts that we tend to miss it. You understand that the God we serve, the God we gather to worship and sing to, when we say his name is holy, we don't even know if that's right. Do you understand that the God we serve that many of us have devoted our lives to, we don't even know his name because he won't tell us. He's so resistant to categories and to being systematized that he wouldn't even tell us his name when we outright asked him. We're like, listen, I don't want to know for personal curiosity. I'm going to have to give it as backup when I go to Pharaoh and God's like, just tell him I am sent you. And what I love about that response from God, there's so many implications there. We could spend an entire Sunday morning on it. But what I love about that response from God with what is your name? I am. Is what he's saying implicitly is I will not submit myself to your categories. I will not submit myself to your systems. I will not be contained by the name that you give me. I will not be contained by a name that you've requested I give myself. We serve a God who is remarkably resistant to categorization and to systemization. Does it not occur to you that if God wanted to be systematically understood, if God wanted to be categorized and give us all the boxes to put all the things so we could perfectly understand life in the universe and time and space, does it not occur to you that he could have done it? He could have. He could have made this systematic theology. He could have made it very clear. He could have, Jesus could have done what we want him to do and spoken with more clarity during his ministry and left less mystery in the margins of his speech and of his stories. He could have done that and yet he chose not to. And in the face of all of this evidence, in the face of all of this evidence of a messy Bible that tells a messy story where God claims in different places, you can't understand me. My ways are higher than your ways. We want to know your name, God. I'm not going to give you that because I won't be reduced to that. Jesus, why do you speak in parables? Well, I'm not going to tell you that, but I'll explain this last one to you. We tend to sweep all of that aside and continue to grab God by the proverbial shirt collar and say, no, but make it make sense. Despite a landslide of evidence to the contrary of that possibility. Last Sunday, I had the kids on Sunday night, Jen serves in the youth, just as a way to avoid the children. She doesn't even really do anything while she's here. And so I had the kids, wasn't much in the house, so I said, let's go to Zaxby's. So I throw them in the car. Zaxby's is right down the road. That's a dangerous game for me. And I asked John, our youngest, he's three, what do you want? You want grilled cheese? You want chicken tenders? He says, chicken tenders. Great. Lily, what do you want? She says, I want a number one. I said, is that a Zax snack? She says, yeah. I said, all right. I said, I'm going to get a five piece, and then I'll let y'all split it up. And she goes, no, no, no, I want a number one. I said, yeah, baby, I understand. You're going to be taken care of. I want a number one. And I don't know about you guys that also have an eight-year-old or have had eight-year-olds, but they're insistent little boogers, you know? Really mean it. And we're kind of going back and forth. I want a number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone, you know, really mean it. And she, you know, we're kind of going back and forth. I want number one. I said, you're going to be fine. Leave me alone. You know, whatever. And then I finally, I just said, and I knew the answer to this, but I just said, Lily, what's in the number one? And she says, three chicken tenders and a piece of toast and fries and a Zach sauce. And I said, I know when we get home, you will have all of those things in front of you. Okay? Okay. So then we get to the drive-thru, and we get to the window, and I say, hey, let me get a five-piece, no slaw, double fries, so I can split them 50-50 with the kids so there's no arguments when we get there. And as I'm ordering this, from the back, no, number one! So I struck her. I just turned around. No, I didn't. So I just said, Lily, just trust Daddy. Just trust me for just a second, all right? And she pipes down, you know. And then, you know, I did that to make it cheaper, but Zaxby's is also offering four shrimp for $3. And so if you ever wonder why, when you go through a drive-thru and they're like, hey, welcome to wherever, would you like to try our new yada, yada, yada? And you're like, no, I came here to order the thing that I want. I don't need you to suggest the thing to me. I'm the reason they suggest that to you. Because whenever they say, would you like to try our new thing? I'm like, yes, yes, I would. Say no more. You don't have to tell me about it. Because you don't get to look at it like this by stopping at one sandwich. You know what I mean? So I threw on the shrimp with the free Zach's tail sauce, and it was great. We get back to the house. Lily's brooding the whole way home. She's so upset because I haven't gotten her the dinner that she wants. We get back to the house, set them down. I break up everything. I put in front of her exactly what a number one is. I said, do you see? And she goes, oh, thanks daddy. And just eats. And I'm like, I am convinced as silly as this is that one day, one day, when we sit down in the great banquet in heaven, we will find that the whole time God has been preparing us a number one. And we will go, oh, thanks, Abba. I know that that's silly. I know it is. But I think it means something. We in this life insist so hard that God would make sense to us and that we would understand why he does all the things that he does. And I think, comparatively speaking, we are a petulant child sitting in the back, insisting that God has got our order wrong. And one day, we will sit down with him, and we will go, yeah, this makes sense now. I get it. I understand. I'm sorry. And here's the thing. If there's ever been anybody who had the right to insist that God start making sense, it was Job. Okay? When we think about grabbing God by the lapels and make this make sense for me, I've got a number one. Why aren't you ordering me a number one? This is what you should be doing, God. If there's ever been anyone in history that had the right to ask that question of God, it was Job. Now, if you don't know off the top of your head the story of Job, I'm sure you know bits and pieces of it. The book of Job is the first book of wisdom. It's probably the first book of the Bible that was ever written, the book of Job. God and Satan are having a conversation, and Satan tells God, the only reason your servant Job honors you is because you bless him. And God says, okay, take his stuff away. He will not renounce me. And Satan proceeds to systematically take everything there was away from Job. He loses his children. He loses his wealth. He loses his land. He loses his health. He even loses the peace of his wife, who at one point in the story advises him to curse God and die. His friends come to him in three different cycles of advice. And they tell him, Job, you're clearly hiding a secret sin, and God is punishing you for it. And he says, I tell you, I am not. I have done nothing unrighteous. Because God actually says about Job, he is the most righteous man on the planet. Until Nate gets there. And then, at the end of the advice, Job's had it. And he says, you know what? I'm going to go to God. I'm going to go to God, and I'm going to demand answers. And there's a sense in which all of humanity goes with Job. We're putting him in front of us. Excuse me. Yeah, you do it. We're kind of hiding behind him. Because Job has every right to confront God. God, I've done nothing but serve you with my whole life and you've taken everything away from me. And now I'm riddled with boils and everyone hates me. This does not make sense. This is not fair. God, make it make sense. Why didn't you do things the way I think you should do them? So he goes to God and he's demanding an answer. And anyone that's ever thought something happened that was unfair or unjust on God's watch is behind Job going, yeah, what's the deal? And here is God's response to Job and all humans in chapter 38. You will not be surprised to learn it's one of my favorite passages. Then the Lord spoke to Job out of the storm. He said, who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? The ESV is even better. It says, who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Whoops. I have a professor who said that Job demanded a man-to-man conversation with God. The problem was he was one man short. Who is this that obscures my plans with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man. I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation a little bit. Verse 8. Job goes to God, insisting a great injustice has done. And in that moment, I want God to pull Job aside, put his arm around him, and gently lay everything out. Let me help you understand this, son. That is not what God does. God says, Job, I believe you've forgotten your place. Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? And God goes on for three chapters. At one point in the middle, sad, pathetic Job, the sacrificial lamb for humankind, says, I repent in dust and ashes. I have spoken once. I will speak no more. And God says, I'm not done. And he keeps going. And what God is saying here is, Job, I know you have your questions. I know you want to understand me and what I've done. But until you can answer what I'm asking you, until you can explain to me how I hung the world in balance and tilted it at such an axis that it exists in harmony with the sun to allow your life. Until you can understand that, you can't possibly understand the answer that I would need to give you to explain myself to you. Do you see? Until you can answer my questions, you can't handle the answer to your questions. So I'm not going to explain it to you because it would be a waste of time. It would be, Rachel Martin is over here with a newborn baby. How old is that baby? Six weeks. This is her third one. They don't even care. They bring him like right from the hospital straight to church. God can no more explain to us what he's doing and how to make his decisions and his actions make sense then I can explain this sermon to that child. It's just not going to work. So God says, Job, listen, man, I'm not going to answer your questions because you can't answer mine. And until you can, you can't handle the answer that I would give you. So until then, this is the beckon from God. Until then, I just need you to trust me. I'm in the front seat of my car. Lily insists she wants a number one. I tell her I'm going to take care of it, but I need a number one. I need you to be quiet and trust me. Sometimes God needs us to be quiet and trust him. And in that trust, acknowledge. We can't know his thoughts. We can't know his plans. We can't know his ways. They are as far from us as the universe is from the earth. And this really ought to comfort us. This ought to be seen as a good thing. We can take great solace in the grandeur and mystery of our awesome God. We are in the back seat, insisting that God make it make sense. And God is telling us, will you just trust me? Will you just trust that I'm good, that I'm lovely, that I'm wonderful, and that I love you? I don't know if you guys have noticed this or know this, but almost every time our worship pastor, Aaron, prays, he finishes the prayer with God, we need you, we trust you. And do you know that that's an intentional choice? That he and I have actually had a conversation about that. And that the reason he ends his corporate prayers with we need you and we trust you is because it's a reminder to him and a reminder to us that we choose to trust in the goodness of God, that we acknowledge that we will not always understand him. We acknowledge that his ways are higher than our ways, but we know God to be good and we know God to be just and we know him be lovely, and we know him to be merciful and gracious and kind and faithful and hopeful and holy. We know those things about our God. So even when life doesn't make sense, even when we look at the way he does things and we think, gosh, I would do this in a different way. Stories like the conversation with Job. Inter interactions like those at the burning bush, declarations like those found in Isaiah 55 should ring in our ears and remind us, yeah, you serve a God that's too big for you to understand. See, what we want, what we want is a God that's just like a little bit smarter than us. So eventually, if we work hard enough, we can understand him. And that's not who God is. He is light years apart from us. And this should give us great comfort. There's actually a book I would recommend to you guys called Wisdom and Wonder by a man named Abraham Kuyper. Abraham Kuyper was a scientist, and then I believe he was the Danish prime minister at the turn of the 19th century. And he wrote a great book called Wisdom and Wonder, and it's all about this. The fact that we serve an unknowable, unsearchable God. Now listen, I'm not saying that systematic theology isn't important. I'm not saying that seeking to understand God is an absolutely futile exercise. There's great progress to be made there. We should spend our lives searching out and seeking out the character of God and seeking to understand him to the absolute best of our capacities. It's okay to understand theology and to talk about those things. But what I see in so many Christians is a forgetfulness and a naivety to the unknown nature of God. So we don't throw out theology as if it doesn't matter, but so often we hold to it and insist that God fit inside of it, and then when he doesn't, we seem to forget that he's unknowable and unsearchable and his ways are higher than our ways. We should hold those things in tension together, seeking to understand God, knowing that we won't always. And in those times when we don't understand him and he doesn't make sense and we wouldn't do things the way he's done them, or they seem to be contrary to what we think, in those gaps of unknowing, we fill it with faith in who God is and the promises that he's made and who he says he is. We fill it with his goodness and his grandeur. And in that way, we are allowed to marvel at a marvelous, miraculous, wild, unknowable God who allows us to see parts of him that we can't know. And this is the God that we worship and we sing to. So again, it's not wrong to ask that God would make sense. It's not wrong to seek to understand. But it is wrong to insist. Because when we insist, we forget what God declares in Isaiah 55. As we close, as we close this morning, I came across this prayer in my devotional and I thought I would end the service or end the sermon this way. We praise you, O God. We acknowledge you to be the Lord. All the earth worships you, the Father everlasting. To you all angels cry aloud the heavens and all the powers in it. To you cherubim and seraphim continually cry, Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts. Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of your glory. The glorious company of the apostles praise you. The good fellowship of the prophets praise you. The noble army of, we love you. We trust you. We thank you that your ways are higher than our ways. We thank you that your thoughts are as far removed from us as the end of the universe is from earth. God, we are sorry where we've tried to fit you into our intellect, into our boxes, and into our categories. We are sorry for failing to allow you to be wild and wonderful and grand and awesome. But Lord, would we be people who take strides to celebrate that, your bigness and your wonder. God, help us trust the parts that we can know. Help us to have faith in the parts that we can't know. And help us to look forward to one day when you shed light on so many things for us. And until that day comes, help us to cling to you in faith, finding comfort and solace in how big you are and how wonderful you are and how far beyond us you are. In Jesus' name, amen.