D-day is just around the corner. Forty some-odd days to go until life changes forever. A month and some change until my husband and I will get to welcome the little life whose DNA twists and twirls with parts of him and parts of me. I’m more excited than I am afraid. Perhaps I should be more afraid.

Someone once said that to have a child is to have your heart go walking around outside your body forever. I don’t know what that’s going to feel like quite yet. But I know I’m about to be tempted with all the worrying that I’ve scolded my mom for since I turned sixteen or so. And I know that even someone with a PhD in babysitting, probably isn’t going to be enough for me to completely take my mind off the well-being of that little one at home the first time we’ve gone out for a night again after the birth.Read more

Excellent piece by Tim Keller via Redeemer's new City to City division. City to City is led, in part, by Scott Kauffmann, who is an uncommon blend of talent and humility.
 
Check out Keller's blog post about how and why Redeemer does multi-site, and how they are different from many other churches that do multi-site. Read more

Matt Chandler, Pastor of the Village Church

http://fm.thevillagechurch.net/blog/pastors/

Prayer requests:

1. Healing

2. Side effects of chemo and radiation

3. Protection from viruses from his children as his immune system is down

4. Village Church, that the Spirit will work powerfully through the preaching of ColossiansRead more

One of my favorite hymns, which is short and seemingly direct, is "My Hope is Built on Nothing Less".  For the first verse you'll find

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My hope is built on nothing less

than Jesus' blood and righteousness;

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

but wholly lean on Jesus' name.

Chorus:

On Christ, the sold rock, I stand;

all other ground is sinking sand,

all other ground is sinking sand.

  
I'm not sure I'm the best person to write on music. With the exception of Sunday morning, music is something I listen to when I'm doing something else: driving, writing, sometimes even reading. This morning, as I prepared a Bible study, Leonard Bernstein was my background music. It was beautiful. In the early nineties, Huey Lewis and Billy Joel accompanied me from my hometown of Hillsboro to my college town of Eugene, Oregon, and back again. Read more

Thanks to a daughter in the band and as an assumed part of life in Western PA, I join a growing number of pals to trek down to University of Pittsburgh home football games. The games take place at the Steelers’ Heinz Field, which affords a spectacular view, of the game and also of the city at the official inception of the Ohio River. With the stadium full to SRO, it's like Pittsburgh's family room: we settle back with old friends and new, visit, and yell.
 
I don’t know how it started, or who is behind it, but I have a new favorite moment in the liturgy of Game Day. I guess it's football’s version of the 7th Inning Stretch that occurs between the 3rd and 4th quarters. What happens at the Pitt game is that over the sound system come the signature opening notes of Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline. At first, my high school memories of dates and of, I guess, one boyfriend in particular were jarred to consciousness with that great throbbing rhythm and then that singer’s rich, husky Neil Diamondishness. But these have been eclipsed by the phenomenon that transpires: The song begins, and the entire stadium rises to its feet, links arms, starts to sway, and together belt out the song with top-of-lung exuberance, word for word (thanks to the Jumbotron). You get to the part, “…reaching out, touching me, touching you,” and everybody gestures that, with 100%, whole-bodied, passion. Then—“Sweet Caroline!”—LET’S  GO PITT!!!!—“The good times never seemed so good”—GO PITT! GO PITT! GO PITT!!!—“I’ve been inclined”—LET’S GO PITT!—…and the musical composition, whatever it meant the first time around, has forever been co-opted for a fresh purpose. We embrace the random intertextuality,  in the cause of team rallying, with the serious playfulness of which college students are the greatest experts. You can see it for yourself on You Tube.Read more

I went to the Houston Symphony's performance of Handel'sMessiah last month. I had never heard the oratorio all the way through--most of us only hear 2 of the 53 mini-songs that make up Messiah. I took a peek at the lyrics page in the concert program and to my surprise found two full pages of text made up entirely of Scripture. We might give credit to G.F. Handel for skillfully weaving the tapestry of singers and instruments, but this declaration in song wholly originates in God's Word. Which made me wonder: who in this chorus sings these words from the heart, with belief? They are perhaps the most powerful words put to song. Many of the singers were about to explode with the energy they were putting into each word. Others carefully uttered the lyrics with more dispassionate looks on their faces. How many confess--not just sing--those words? I wanted to bump into one of the choristers after the performance and say, “So, what's it like to sing that song?”
 
I often mouth Christian verbiage with a less than believing heart. How can I do this? As I step back and look at the story told by my Christian faith, how can I help but bow my head in reverence and humility? Our hearts are to be directly tied to the words we confess (Luke 6:45). How can we make our tune a true song that springs from the heart?Read more

“Let thy goodness like a fetter bind my wandering heart to thee.”
 
I can’t remember how old I was when these words struck me as memorable. Surely less than 10. Maybe seven, or eight. And I’d heard them sung scores of times by then. But one Sunday morning this phrase from “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” barreled out of the choir loft and off the hymnal page straight into my heart, then rattled around there until I could try and make good sense of it.
 
I grew up in church. In the Southern Baptist Church . I heard hundreds of hymns and sermons long before I could hope to understand them. My age predates the trends of “children's church” and “age-appropriate worship.” The churches my parents and I attended deemed all worship appropriate for all ages all the time. No target marketing segmented the congregations of the Protestant South in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. No sir. You showed up on time, parked your bottom on the pew, sat still, kept quiet, and paid attention. (And I’ve got no regrets.)
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In the parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus, Jesus reveals to us a man who was so consumed with himself, his possessions and his own comfort that during the course of his life he never really noticed this poor beggar named Lazarus who sat at his gate day after day.  While preparing to preach this text a few months ago, I couldn’t help but see much of myself in the character of the Rich Man.  Often my own schedule, needs, hobbies and comfort blind me from the obvious needs of those around me.  It caused me to ask the question: who are the needy that are right in my midst, and yet are “invisible” to me?  It’s sort of a scary question to ask.  There are some obvious ones that immediately came to mind, such as the homeless in my community, the elderly widow two houses down, and even the young single girl across the street who desperately needs Jesus.  But it wasn’t until a couple of nights ago that I realized there is a whole group of people that are often invisible to me, even though they are all around me.  They are people with special needs and disabilities.Read more