John

The Good morning, Grace Raleigh. How are you doing? It's good to see you today. I'm Dale Rector, Nathan's dad, and I am glad to be with you today. Hang in there for a minute. It's going to be a journey. I've got two Bibles. It's a long sermon. So just bear with me. Maybe it'll go quickly if we try. But I want to say something to the Grace Raleigh family first, and that is thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Not just for moving my son out of my basement four and a half years ago, but for loving him, loving his beautiful wife, Jen, our precious, precious grandchildren, Lily, and now John. And we are so grateful for you. Within the sound of my voice are those of you who will volunteer and step up and will do something to minister to my family and to my kids. And I can't thank you enough. You will do life together. You will laugh together. You'll cry together. You'll tell them the word of God together. You'll grow together. And I couldn't think of a better place for my family than here. So thank you very much, Grace Raleigh. When I was a child, I was given this Bible to me by my grandparents. 1969. I was 11 years old, and they gave me this Bible, and of course, this King James Bible. But Matthew chapter 24 is perhaps the most read portion of this Bible during my young adult life. In Matthew chapter 24, if any of you don't remember or recall, it is the place in which the disciples asked Jesus, what are the signs of the end times? What are those signs? And when is your return? If you pay attention and read Matthew chapter 24 this week, you will see it mirrored and imaged in Revelation chapter 6 next week with Nathan. So pay attention to that. We were crazy about eschatology. What's that? That's the study of the end times. And we dove in and we heard sermon after sermon. In fact, we predicted that Jesus would come back in 1988. There was a book that was written that said 88 reasons why Jesus would come back in 1988. And I'm like, wow, really? It didn't happen. It didn't occur. He still hasn't returned. And it seemed like over the years, the eschatology speeches and the study of Revelation got to be a little quiet and a little silent because most people were wrong. Most people, when they tried to predict something or say what this means, they were wrong. I have another Bible in front of me. This Bible was stolen by, it's not a Gideon Bible. It was stolen by my son four and a half years ago when he came up to here at Grace Raleigh. And four and a half years ago, he took this Bible that I had as a high school student, and I never had a chance to write in it and to say something in it, you know, sappy and meaningful like, you know, the greatest ever, the great Nate, you know. I love you dearly, the best dad you've ever had. Nothing like that at all. I don't have the words. Until I was preparing for this sermon, I thought, I have the perfect words. And to my son Nathan, this is true. That's it. This is the word of God. In Genesis, we see the tree of life. In Revelation, we see the tree of life. In Exodus, we see the ark of the covenant. In Revelation, we see the ark of the covenant. In Joel, we see the Ark of the Covenant. In Revelation, we see the Ark of the Covenant. In Joel, we see the trumpet sounds, and the day of the wrath of the Lamb has come. In Joel chapter 2 and chapter 3. In Revelation chapter 7, we see the trumpet sound, and the day of the wrath of the Lord and the Lamb comes. In Daniel, we see the exact specific days of the tribulation period. In Revelation, we see the exact same specific days in that book as well. Over and over and over again, if you fall in love with the Old Testament, you'll fall in love with Revelation because it all ties together. It all links together. It's true. It's right. It's God's word. It's what he wants us to have. So I'm grateful for you guys and your study of the word. And I'll be going into Revelation chapter four. If you have your Bibles, you can turn there. But basically, you know, when Doug got up a couple weeks ago and he spoke, I thought to myself, Doug, it's really kind of funny and hilarious that you were given one verse. I was given the two easiest chapters in the entire book of Revelation, and you'll see how easy it is in a minute. But chapter 4 is a mirror image of Ezekiel chapter 1. And if you have Ezekiel 1 and you study it later, you'll see this same throne room of God. But John, 90-year-old John, is caught up into heaven. And he's caught up into heaven. And on the Lord's day, he's in the spirit. And whose voice does he hear? Jesus. He says, John, come up here. I have some things I want to show you. I have some things I want you to see. And he shows him where dad sits, where God the Father has a throne. And there's this throne. It's a majestic throne. And on the throne is a brownish image. It's an image of God. It is God. And it looks brown. And it's got an emerald rainbow around its head. Ezekiel says there are fire and metal around his waist. And there's lightnings and thunders that come from the throne of God and go out, and there's a brightness and a brilliance and a wonderment. The throne is set on a firmament of solid water and glass, and it looks still, Still to indicate the comfort and the sovereignty of God. And that's the picture we see of the throne room of God. And around the throne is 24 elders and four cherubims. And we get all enthralled with the brilliance, with the majesty, with the wonder, with the glorious look of the throne of God. And we forget what the point is. What is the point of Revelation chapter 4? It's so simple. It's so easy. Theologians miss it. They like to describe everything that's in here. And I'm going to tell you this, and you're going to go, well, that's not that bright. What's the point of the throne of God? God is on the throne. That's it. God is on the throne. He is on the throne. When Joseph was in prison, captive, God was on the throne. When the children of Israel spent 400 years in captivity, God was on the throne. When the first Passover came and the blood was put on the doorpost of every Jewish family and the death angel passed through and spared those children, God was on the throne. When Moses led the children of Israel out of captivity and 40 days became 40 years, God was on the throne. When Moses was put to the side and went up to the mountain and wasn't allowed to go to the promised land, Joshua went into the promised land with the children of Israel, and God was on the throne. City by city, they took over. Promised to them, to the father Abraham. And the Jews possessed the promised land, they possessed the Canaan land, and God was still on the throne. The period of judges came. We had a few good kings with a bunch of bad kings. We had a dispersion of the nation of Israel. The temple was destroyed. Again, the nation of Israel was taken back to captivity to Babylon this time, and God was still on the throne. They came back to Israel. 400 years of silence. Jesus was born. And Jesus was born of a virgin, came to this planet, and lived in the filth that Satan and we created. And God was still on the throne. The thorns were placed upon his brow. The blood came down. His hands were pierced with the nails. He was hung on the cross, and he cried out, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani, which means, my God, my God, why has thou forsaken me? God was still on the throne. He couldn't look on his son because of our sin, but he was on the throne. Remember that. At that Passover, he was on the throne. Jesus was put into the grave. Three days later, God said, come forth. He came forth. God was still on the throne. 47 days, he appeared to 500 people at one time and then ascended into heaven. And guess what? God was still on the throne. He was still there. Still in control. Still in charge. Now what happens from here? What happens from here? Well, we have 11 of the 12 apostles martyred. John sees 60 years go by. And 60 years go by and he's caught up into heaven on the Lord's day. He thought he died and went to heaven, but he didn't. He was in the spirit. And guess what he saw? Revelation chapter four, God on the throne. Now what's going to happen in Revelation chapter 6 and following is nothing more than a full court press, nothing more than a reclamation process in which God reclaims stolen property. And he comes back and he takes what's rightfully his to redeem the last person who will say yes to Jesus and to say no to Satan and to crush Satan underneath our feet is what Romans says. And guess what? During everything you encounter in the next few weeks with Revelation, as good and as bad as it may seem, God's still on the throne. He is there. He hasn't left. He hasn't abrogated his position. He hasn't vacated it. He's still there. Through your cancer, through your COVID, through your disappointment, through abandonment, through your addictions, through your loss of family, loss of loved ones, to the loss of a young child. Everything that this world can throw at us and this world system can throw at us, God is still on the throne. That's chapter four. Now you say, well, what are the four cherubims? Everyone wants to know about the four cherubims and who are they and where'd they come from? And at this point in the sermon, I would say, who cares, right? Because God's on the throne no matter what. But we've got this curiosity about us. Have we seen the four cherubims before? Yes, we have, Ezekiel 1. The question is not what are the four cherubims, but where is God? You see, when the four cherubims show up, you would expect to see God, because God made these cherubims, angelic beings, if you will, looked like a human, had four sides to their head, the one of a man, the one of an ox, the one of an eagle, the one of a lion, and they looked weird to us, but we've never seen them. And John saw them and described them is exactly how Ezekiel described them in Ezekiel chapter 1. And these are around the throne of God. They move in unison around the throne of God. They're all together, the four cherubims, angelic beings. And I've got this to say about what the faces represent. And most people are guessing. And I'm guessing as well. But the faces represent the very essence of God. You see, we are made in the image of God. When I picture God, I think of a man. The descriptions of God, he has a head and face and hands and so forth. So I think these angelic beings meant to reflect the very essence of God, which is man, which is one of the faces you see. The other faces you see is the very essence of God as creation. And I think he made what he likes. You become that which you worship. And these four creatures, these four cherubims, wherever they go, they're around the throne of God. Can you imagine someone watching you 24-7, 365? I challenge you. Follow Nathan around 24-7. You may all leave the church. I hope you don't. I hope you stay with it. Jen's got a lot of love. We were so grateful for her. But for 24-7, 365, these angelic beings are around the throne of God. And you know what they say? It's recorded in Revelation chapter 4 and verse 8. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty who was and is and is to come. What is holiness? What does that mean? Holiness is the intersection of love and justice. It is the attribute of attributes. It's the attribute that contains all the other attributes. It's where love and justice collide. Everything, God's mercy, God's long-suffering, God's love, God's justice, is all wrapped up in this perfect word called holiness. It means different, different, different. Unique, unique, unique. There's never been anything like God. There'll never be anything like God ever again. He is holy. He is different all unto himself. The perfect amount of love is sprinkled with the perfect amount of justice at the right time, in the proportion in the right way. It is God's way and he is holy. So who am I? Who am I to question the character of God? I think it's funny. Each of us periodically do this little thing, which is wrong, but we do it anyways because we're human. Well, if I were God, I would zap them. Right? I mean, just think of it. When I'm driving down the road in traffic, you know, it's like, okay, here it comes. I believe half the people on the planet would be gone if I was God. Really. My wife knows that's true. You can't, you did what? Come on, man. But we sit there and we judge God through our lenses and through our eyes and from our limited perspective and we say, God, why didn't you exercise justice quicker? Hitler. Six million Jews died. We sit in amazement and say, well, God, if you'd just zapped them a little earlier, we wouldn't have had six million Jews die. And we question God's patience and long-suffering. And then when he does zap somebody, we go, man, that was mean. I can't believe God did that. What's going on here? So, you see, we can't do that. Whenever God acts, God acts in perfectness of love and justice all the time. There's a second group of people around the throne. It was the 24 elders. People have said it represents 12 apostles and 12 representatives from the tribe of Israel. They're wrong. I'm amazed at how wrong theologians can be. And when you study commentaries, be careful. Be careful. The way I study Revelation is in light of what it says in other parts of the Bible. Because some people have a bent on how it should play out. Well, I believe in this, and I believe in that. Well, I believe in the Word of God, and I'm going to let the Word of God just speak to me and say, what does it say to you? It's not Mother Teresa, it's not Billy Graham, it's not the Stanley brothers, you know, it's not Charles Stanley, it's not Andy Stanley, it's not any leaders, it's not any brilliant, it's definitely not me, definitely not my son. We're not one of the 24. What are they? Angelic beings. Well, how do you know that? Job 38, 7, where God is basically, if you will, talking to Job and saying, where were you when I created? You remember that? And Job 38.7 says, when the morning stars were put into place, when the planets were made and the solar systems were made, The sons of God rejoiced. Yes. The angels were there during creation to prove what the Savior did in creation. And these are nothing more than angelic beings that have some authority and some leadership. Why do you say that? Well, I say it because of what is in Revelation chapter 4 and verse 11. You created all things, and by your will they exist and were created. That's what they said. They're not puppets. They saw it. They were there. Hebrews 11.3 says, You mean the law of thermodynamics is wrong? In this case, it is. God created something out of nothing. He created that which is seen out of nothing. Well, that just doesn't compute with science. I love the faith of a child. Don't you? I love my grandkids. I mean, you can tell them almost anything and they believe it, right? And some of you think they have been duped in believing that Jesus is real and the Bible is real and they just haven't learned enough yet. When you walk a child through salvation and through that experience in following God, they look at you and they believe it. They trust you and trust you what you're going to say. Then they start trusting the word of God. Then they start trusting the teacher. Then they start trusting the preacher. And it says right in here the word of God that God created. Well, you know what? That's good enough for me. I don't care if it takes you 4.5 billion years to get there. I don't care. God could speak and it could happen. Well, science says this. Who cares? I believe what it says. He made us. He created us. And the reason we don't like to believe in a creation is because we don't want to be subject to God. But the whole thing hinges on his creating us. Because he made us and therefore he owns us and we're subject to him. Now, as an older adult, and this church has a lot my age and older, we kind of return back to that simple faith. That simple time that we had as children. And we sit there and we go, yeah, okay, I get it. Scientists have changed the age of the earth 18 times since I was born. Maybe they just don't know. Maybe they weren't there. And I'm telling you, the reason I believe it is because if I believe God existed in the four walls of my brain and that was it, I'm in big trouble, buddy. I really am. I mean, really, seriously. I get up from my easy chair, I go to the other room, and I wonder why I was there. Right? Hey, honey, would you bring the crackers back? You forgot the crackers again. What about the pudding? Well, I ate the pudding in the kitchen. Did you leave the light on? I don't know. Where's your phone? I don't know. Is it on silent? I don't know. And right now, all of you are thinking, I need to check my phone. You leave the house and you say, did I close the garage? Did I close the garage? You drive back, it's closed. You didn't believe yourself. I mean, this is fun. I mean, this is a blast getting old. And the older I get, the bigger God gets. Nathan, when he was of age to go to college, and we were grateful, my wife and I were both crying. We were crying for different reasons. When he went off to college, he went to Auburn. Not my pick. I picked a Bible college. I said, you should go to Bible college for one year. He didn't necessarily want to be a preacher. And he said, no, I'm going to Auburn. Why? Why do kids do that? Because they know more than you, right? They're smarter than you. They've got this thing figured out. So he went off to Auburn and I said to him, son, I've got one requirement for you and one only. And he says, what's that, dad? This is going to be pretty easy. I said, yeah, it's really easy. When you return from college, I want you to be dumber. And he looks at me, dumber? You want me to be dumber? Yes. He says, why dad? I said, well, right now, you know everything in the world. When you finish your first year, I want you to know a little less and I want you to be dumb again. I checked with him a few weeks ago and I said to him these words, son, the older I get, the bigger God gets. The more miraculous he gets, the more wondrous he gets. And he said, dad, I think the exact same thing. And I'm like, yes, he's dumb again. I like it. John 1 says, That's John 1. The triune God created mankind. We were created in the image of God. And in chapter 5, we see a segue to the right hand of the throne of God, and it is on the right hand of the throne of God you see a scroll. It looked nothing like this. This is the best we could do. And the scroll represented the title deed to planet Earth. And the title deed would be opened one seal at a time. And you had a seal, you opened it, you read it. You had another seal, you opened it, you unscrolled what was written. Had writing on the outside and writing on the inside. The writing on the outside was a person authorized to take the scroll from God the Father, from his right hand. And on the inside was the playbook to the end of the earth, to the reclamation of this planet and us back to our rightful position where he makes all the wrong things right. It's the playbook. It's the rest of the book of Revelation, what was in the Father's right hand. And there was a search in heaven as to the person who was worthy to take the scroll out of the Father's right hand and then loose the seals that were there. And John, 90-year-old John, weeped bitterly. He wept bitterly. Why? It's conjecture on my part, but can you imagine for a 60-year period of time between when Jesus ascended into heaven and when John was called back up into heaven, 60 years had passed. When you became a believer in the New Testament church era, first and second century, it was a death sentence. It was a sentence by which you would die. So John had led and given the gospel out to the ends of the earth and basically had seen his friends die. 11 out of the 12 apostles died and John and John alone only remained. And I can imagine, because I have doubts as an old person, always I have doubts, and I sit there and I go, is this really true? Is this word of God really true? Is this right? And John, I felt like, he thought for a moment, what if Jesus is not coming back to reclaim stolen property? What if this is all in vain? What if those people died in vain? And what I've been saying for 60 years is wrong. What then? What are we going to do? The angel of the Lord said to John, John, there's no crying in heaven. We don't cry up here. Dry it up, buddy. Something like that. And the angel said, behold, the lion of the tribe of Judah, of the root of David. Whoa. Wait a minute. To a Jewish boy. That meant something. That meant something. The lion of the tribe of Judah. The root of David. That was the Messiah. That was the Messiah they expected to come the first time. And rescue him for all the pain. And set up his kingdom. This is the Messiah they expected to come the first time and rescue him for all the pain and set up his kingdom. This is the Messiah. This is the one I've been waiting for. This is the guy, the lion of the tribe of Judah. And when John saw between the throne of God and the cherubims that were around the throne, he saw this figure. And it was a figure as a lamb that was slain. Wow. The lamb that was slain. Now wait a minute. Let that sink in a little bit. You mean it's not pretty picture book Jesus with the nice flowing hair, all his hair, with a nice face, a nice body, fit body? You mean it wasn't that Jesus? No. It was a Jesus from 60 years ago he recognized on the cross with the crown of thorns, the nails in his hand. It was a lamb as if it was slain. He had the scars that he got from the crucifixion. And John, I believe his countenance probably changed from tears to gladness, recognizing that the Savior he had followed for 60 years was really true. It was really right. It was the right thing. This was the lamb that was slain because he saw the marks. You see, you can debate the resurrection all you want, but it happened. You can debate creation, but it happened. You can debate how God is going to come back. It's going to happen. Jesus was around with 500 people at one time. There's no scientist on this planet that has the key for that. Nobody has the key for that except God. Without the resurrection of Jesus Christ, there is no hope. Let's go watch football. Let's go play. Let's go eat. But we exist because of the resurrection. We are the Easter people. We do celebrate. Every week, the new church celebrated the resurrection of Christ because it was such a miracle. And John, 60 years later, saw that same Jesus in front of him and was just overwhelmed with joy and gladness. That is the resurrected Christ. Now, the disciples, I believe, had their marching order in a couple places in the New Testament. One is found in Matthew chapter 16. There's a location that's in northern Israel called Caesarea Philippi. And at Caesarea Philippi, there was this, what is called the gates of hell. I'm allowed to say that in church because it says it in the Bible, the gates of hell. And what was that place? It was a cave, and me and Nathan were there in 2014. It was a place where people came to worship false, dead gods. It was a place where they came to do unspeakable atrocities, things that were wrong, to try to please these false gods, dead gods. And Jesus had the boys there in such a wicked, vile place with all these gods and the pan-god, and he says to them this something very simple, who do these people say that I am? Who do they say that I am? Well, you're Elijah. You're John the Baptist. You're a righteous dude, right? You're a good person. And then Jesus stopped them and said, no, no, no, no, no. And this is the question of questions that everyone must answer. But whom do you say that I am? Whom do you say that I am? Whom do you say that I am? And I love Peter. Peter finally got it right with all boldness, with all everything in his gut. And I believe the decibel level got really high. And he said, thou art the Christ, the son of the living God. And what did Jesus say? Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed it to you, but my Father which is in heaven. And upon this rock moment came back in every one of the apostles' mind as the ascension of Christ occurred, as they gathered together, as Jesus conquered death, as we see him overcoming death and overcoming all obstacles. They were worried that they would die too, but now they weren't worried. Why? Because Jesus came to life. And when Jesus came to life, they approached Pentecost with a fervor and an intensity that they never had before. And that intensity, I think, they kind of looked like, after the ascension, I think they kind of looked a little like William Wallace. Braveheart. You know the story. Every time I see this, I think of Peter. That's William Wallace. What happened to William Wallace? He died. Hey, you guys don't know what I'm referring to. Google it. In Google, we trust. So just Google it. You'll find out what Braveheart is. He lost his life for the cause. And Peter died, crucified, upside down, dying for the cause. 11 out of the 12 died and were martyred because of what happened. You know what we need today in the church? We need more William Wallaces. We need people that are willing to die for the cause. You know, we just kind of want them to show up to live for the cause, let alone die for it. And why has it become so hard and so different? 2,000 years later, what happened to our intensity? What happened to our focus? I've got a hero of mine. His name is Randy Rye. Randy was a preacher. He left his church because of illness. He was supposed to have died eight times. He's got cancer. He's got organs that shut down. A couple weeks ago, he texted me and said, pray for me. I've got pneumonia. I'm hoping it's not COVID. If he gets COVID, he may die. It may be a death sentence for him. Randy, everywhere, he has no money. He has two nickels to rub together. But he loves the Lord with all intensity. And you know what he does? Everywhere he goes, he says to the doctors, to the nurses, to the patients without hope, he says, I want to tell you about Jesus. And I don't know a better place than in a hospital to tell somebody and get them prepared for eternity. But that guy, he approaches the gates of hell and he says, I'm going to tell this last person about Jesus. In our offices, God is there. Tell people about Jesus. Now, how can we do that today? How can we be the person with intensity today that lives out its Christianity with all fervor? I don't know about you. I haven't checked with this church yet. You're probably not typical of every North American church because Nathan's here. You're probably a little different. But every church I know of has a need for children's ministries. Always. Always a need. Hey man, it's the next generation in there. It's an opportunity to teach and train the next generation. Aaron should have a waiting list of names for people to do childcare. Look, you can hear Nathan on video. We know that. So go sit with the kids. Tell them about Jesus. Well, I don't know what to do. Well, Moses didn't either, but he did it. We need people to step up. What if we had twice as many people step up for children's ministries? What if we had a need come about and twice as much money came in? What about if we had a missions trip and twice as many people signed up for it as could go. What about if we asked for volunteers to serve to love our neighbors and twice as many people showed up? We've lost our intensity. John was the bishop of the church of Ephesus. And at that church, if you read the first two and three chapters of Revelation, you'll find out that the church of Ephesus lost its first love. And John was the bishop there, and he held some responsibility for losing that first love. And they were admonished by God that, hey, you need to get that first love back. Maybe that's what we need to do. I believe when John went back, he was different. And things were different from that point on. Now, if you all would do me a favor and go ahead and stand up, we're going to have the reading of the word of God, and then we're going to transition right into worship at the same time. But John went from Patmos to paradise, from paradise back to Patmos. In one year, he left Patmos and went back to Ephesus. And for five years, he lived. And then five years later, he died. In that five-year period of time, he discipled many young person. Hey, who would like to learn at the feet of John, one of the apostles, particularly after he'd been up to heaven? Well, I would. That would be neat. And so John went back to Ephesus and he discipled a young man, 25 years old, by the name of Polycarp. Polycarp became the bishop at the church of Smyrna. He died a martyr's death in 155 A.D. He had somebody else he trained, Irenaeus, which gave us all the doctrines that we preserve today. The grandchild, if you will, the spiritual grandchild of the apostle Paul. Or, I'm sorry, John. And you see, it pays to disciple one another, to disciple our kids. And I believe John's life ended well with discipling one another. He also had a song. He had a song he learned when he's revelation experience and it's found in verses nine through 13. And it went something like this. And I heard a voice of many angels around the throne, the living creatures and the elders, and the number of them was 10,000, and thousands and thousands saying with a loud voice, worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing. And every creature, every creature, which is in heaven and on earth and under the earth and such as are in the sea and that are in them, I heard saying, blessing and honor and glory and power be to him who sits on the throne and to the lamb forever and ever.

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.