10.14.12--Sermon on Mark 10:17-27

A few years ago, I became obsessed with the TV show, House MD. If you aren’t a fan of medical sitcoms, it’s a series about the snarky, maladjusted Gregory House and his work as the head of the diagnostics department at Princeton-Plainsboro University Hospital. The specialty of the diagnostics department is solving the unsolvable medical mysteries, so everyone who would come into Dr. House’s office was always suffering from some life-threatening disease of which no one had ever heard. Now, pretty much every episode of this show followed the same basic outline: (1) someone would get sick, (2) House would get the case, (3) his team would spend the entire episode trying to solve the case and keep the patient alive, and (4) at the very last minute House would come up with the brilliant diagnosis that 95% of the time would save the patient from certain death.

There was usually some background drama to go along with it, like who House was in love with or what shenanigans he was getting into in his off time, but I didn’t really care about any of that stuff. My favorite part of every episode was always the diagnosis work. You see, Dr. House and his crack team of the brightest minds in medicine would get into a rhythm with their work as they sought to find the problem and derive a solution from it, and although they used a process, no two cases were ever the same. Their diagnostic detective work followed this basic outline: (1) they used a white board to compile a list of all of the symptoms so that they could assess the situation from every angle, (2) they carefully checked and ruled out any possible source of the infection such as patient medical history, living conditions, travel history, and human interaction, (3) they would cross check present symptoms with all sorts of rare and unpronounceable diseases from around the world, working with a fine-toothed comb to determine the cause of the patient’s condition, (4) the other doctors on the team would offer up plausible possibilities as to what the problem was throwing around terms like autoimmune disorder, carcinomas, legionnaire’s, and lupus (It was never lupus, but I swear they would bring it up at the beginning of every episode…), and (5) House would systematically rule out all possibilities until he hit upon the correct diagnosis, usually by discovering something that was overlooked or hidden before. 

No two cases were ever alike, yet House was always able to solve them by going through this process to reach a diagnosis. 

10.7.12--Sermon on Matthew 28:1-20

I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about how God has spoken to me so clearly and on so many occasions through experiences of corporate worship. I do not know if it is simply because I love to sing and am moved by music or if it is because I let down my guard while I am surrounded by others who are singing just as loud as I do; there’s just something about worship that allows God to speak to me in exciting ways.

It was during a time of worship that I made a decision to give my life to Christ. It was during a time of worship that I answered God’s call to vocational ministry. It was even during a time of worship that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was going to marry Jessica. When everything seems to click in worship, God seems to show up in an absolutely amazing way.

But I know that over our two plus years together, I’ve told you plenty of stories about when worship worked, when the leaders, the speaker, and the congregation were all in sync and God was deftly able to weave in and out of the chords and choruses with ease. Today, though, I want to share with you a story about a time when worship didn’t click, when instead of feeling left in awe, I was left feeling angry.

This Midwinter Weekend Retreat featured a new band that I did not know. I happened to get to the camp early enough to hear their sound check, and I stood in the back of the worship space listening to them play, trying to decided if I was going to like them or not. I thought that they were pretty good, honestly. They were rocking every song they played, and even though they played a few songs I didn’t know, I was convinced that they would do a great job of leading us to the presence of God. I left right before they finished sound check, and didn’t see them again until that night’s opening worship.

I was right. They did rock. We had such a great time during the opening songs. They pushed the intensity to raise our energy and they looked like they were genuinely engaging in worship themselves. It was awesome.

After a few songs, the speaker stood up and delivered a great message—I think. Honestly, I don’t remember much about it, which is funny since I’m now in the same profession. When I was in high school, though, all I cared about was the music, the singing. That’s probably not the best attitude for a pastor to have, but hey, I wasn’t perfect.