For this coming Sunday, I want to start the new season by reminding us of who we are and why the mission and purpose of Nexus remain the same as always. To do that, I will need to tell you about a little pilgrimage I took this summer and about a room I unexpectedly found myself in. This Sunday is about one artist’s story and why that story still resonates with me (and I hope us) 135 years later. 

Now, to the final sermon of the year, A Beautiful Thing. In a world that prizes practicality, efficiency, and utility, the story of Mary pouring a small fortune’s worth of perfume on Jesus’ head, and his strong reaction to the gesture, stands in contrast to many of our cultural values.“She has done a beautiful thing to me,” Jesus says of the act. On this final Sunday of the season, I want to explore why beauty matters deeply in the economy of God, and how even awkward, seemingly wasteful gestures can carry the most lasting impact. This is a story not about doing what is right or efficient—but about doing what is beautiful.So, I hope you will join us as we reflect on the fleeting nature of time, the courage it takes to act on love, and the aroma that beautiful acts leave behind.

Friends, we have arrived at the penultimate episode of our season. I am excited for these last two sermons, and I hope they might set us up well for the summer before us.This week, my sermon is driven by this question: Is there a way to tune our minds so that they become better receivers? The question is driven by a sort of epiphany I had a few years ago. While our minds are most certainly thought generators, they may also be thought receivers. I cannot recall if it was our beloved Murray who shared this with me, or the author Dale Allison. Regardless, I am sure these ideas sound a bit confusing. Even still, if our minds are receiving (not just generating) thoughts, well, is there a way to tune into certain frequencies, while ignoring others? I am as confused as you about all of this, which is why we must embark on a most interesting journey together on Sunday.To puzzle this out, I have an assortment of tales and reflections to bring you: from rabbit ear antennas to Muhammad Ali, the Young and the Restless to Barack Obama, Crispers to the Tom Foolery ancient shepherds performed, and the young prophet Samuel hearing a voice to the Ivanpah Solar Power Facility (which happens to fry birds in mid-flight; mind you, that has no bearing on my sermon, but I thought you might like to know). Anywho, it is quite the trail we must travel together. 

Friends, I don’t have a lot of positive things to say about birds, but I will grant them this: some of their mating rituals are just hilariously fantastic (see flamingos or birds of paradise). The choreography is mesmerizing; their movements flamboyant and fun to watch. Of course, acts like these are not exclusive to birds. In the animal kingdom, from birds to elephants, rituals are found everywhere in nature.And yet, no creature is as ritualized as we Homo sapiens. Rituals are a human universal, with ceremonial practices serving many important functions.This Sunday, I want to take us into one of the most unique rituals of the Christian faith: baptism. Of course, back in the day, ritualistic washing or immersion rituals were present and practiced in various cultures and religions outside of Christianity. Even today, the “cold plunge” has echoes of a baptism ritual. Yet, by and large, baptism is almost an exclusively Christian ritual. Why? Why is it important? What does it mean and communicate?

Is it just me, or are lots of us more like Hobbits than is good for us? Valuing comfort, home, and a quiet life, living in our cozy hobbit-holes, eschewing adventure and exploration…nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things! Even if we don’t live like Hobbits (though that would probably be my dream), we might act like Hobbits in certain corners of our minds and hearts. And yet, our heart needs more; we are invited out of our comfort zone to more reality, more life, more connection, more freedom…more adventure. Does that sound appealing? Adventures are exciting, but they also include confusion, danger, wrestling with big questions, and when we return - if we return - we are not the same. Last week we faced our illusions which can get in the way of living fully and truly connecting with ourselves, others, and with God. By definition, all illusions pull us out of reality into an echo chamber of the stories we tell ourselves. The illusion of control, for instance, can cause us to cling to our comfortable and safe routines where we feel better able to control the outcome. As we wrap up our journey through Henri Nouwen’s book Reaching Out, we’ll now explore prayer as the opposite pole to illusion. Nouwen claims that as we move toward prayer, we will move away from illusion. This may feel backward at best or simply confusing, as our experiences in life in general and with prayer in particular may have us feeling ambivalent towards prayer. When life is chaotic and God feels far or nonexistent, prayer can seem pointless and empty, maybe even deeply disappointing. I wonder if seeing prayer as an adventure can invite us to explore prayer with fresh eyes, finding more than we thought was there at first. We may find more reality and more life. We may find something new to go on as we explore some themes around prayer such as experiencing God’s absence, paradox and confusing messages around prayer, and we’ll get a little practical with a way of praying that’s both simple and profound as we listen for our Prayer of the Heart. 

Remember that scene from the Matrix where Cypher enjoys a steak? He betrays his comrades and condemns humanity in order to be reinserted into the Matrix, to return to a false reality where he can live a life of luxury and to be "someone important, like an actor." In the scene, he delights in eating a perfectly cooked steak and wine, a stark contrast to the bland, unappetizing "goop" the crew of the Nebuchadnezzar eats in the real world. Cypher acknowledges that the steak isn't real, but he savors the sensation, stating, "I know this steak doesn't exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the Matrix is telling my brain that it is juicy and delicious. After nine years, you know what I realize? Ignorance is bliss."This line encapsulates his weariness with the harsh reality of the human resistance and his desire to return to the comfortable illusion of the Matrix, even though he knows it’s not reality. Cypher represents our very human temptation to choose comfort and illusion over harsh truth and freedom, even at the cost of betrayal. We can be more like him than we’d like to admit, tending to resist reality a lot of the time. We have whole collections of strategies against the real. We actually can be quite masterful at protecting our hearts and minds against harsh truths. We can live asleep, doom scrolling while avoiding our life, particularly if it’s uncomfortable or painful. In some ways, why wouldn’t we? We all do this, even when it doesn’t make sense. And we may be so good at it, we may not even realize we’re doing it. Nevertheless we’re invited to face the Real, and to turn to God as Ultimate Reality. As we wrap up this mini-series walking through Henri Nouwen’s book Reaching Out, we’re exploring the movement from illusion to prayer. So this week we’ll face our illusions, see how we’re pretty fond of them, and consider what we might do instead of remaining in their grip.

For this week, I want to piggyback off last Sunday and the work we did around mapping our loneliness. As we move into the terrain of our loneliness, I want to explore whether the reason we struggle with loneliness might be because of the quiet barriers we’ve built between ourselves and true intimacy?All of us carry a deep longing to be fully seen and still fully loved—a longing that goes all the way back to Eden. To navigate towards that, I want to draw from Jesus’ words in John 15 and invite us to reimagine intimacy not as a fleeting feeling or dramatic act of love, but as a lifelong pattern of laying ourselves down for one another in the ordinary, sometimes painfully boring, rhythms of real life.To that end, I want to walk us through three subtle, but powerful barriers that often keep us from closeness with others: the illusion that life should always be interesting, the weight of unspoken and unrealistic expectations, and the everyday irritations of difference. If you've ever felt like your relationships — romantic, platonic, or communal — fall short of what you hoped for, I hope this message can offer us a grace-filled path forward: not to escape or idealize, but to stay, die to ego, and find new life on the other side of disappointment.

Hey friends! When we asked the Nexus community to submit cards a while back around the sufferings we face in life, 32% of the cards mentioned struggles with loneliness. For a third of us, it would seem this is a sensitive spot.Loneliness is often treated as a personal failing or something to hide, but what if it’s actually a shared human experience? This Sunday, I want to unpack this quiet ache that so many of us carry but rarely name. Drawing on Scripture, personal stories, and cultural insights, we will explore five distinct types of loneliness—alienation, restlessness, fantasy, rootlessness, and psychological depression. Each one reveals something about who we are, what we long for, and how we were created to live in connection.Whether you're single or married, surrounded by people or feeling unseen, I hope this message offers a gentle guide for navigating the lonely places in your life—with truth, grace, and maybe even hope.

For Easter Sunday we launch into a theological conspiracy theory and the final chapter of Pilate’s part in the Jesus Path story. Then into the meaning of resurrection itself. I hope what we find will be both challenging, but also full of hope.

After a long winter and Lenten season, Holy Week is finally here! The culmination of the Jesus Path lies in front of us via Good Friday and Easter. We will be observing both Holy Days with services at 10:30am at St. Andrew's. We hope for these services that you might enter Iona Hall quietly and contemplatively.The cross has many meanings, but for this Good Friday, we will examine but one of those meanings. In doing so, I hope that it will bring our ‘Jesus before Pilate’ trial full circle in a meaningful way. I hope you will join us for our Good Friday journey that will take us from poetry, to song, to a Venice art museum, to the cards about suffering you filled out, to Lake Bled, to more songs and poetry, and of course, back to our old friend, Ivan Fydorovich and his case against Christ. Ultimately though, I hope it will take us to one of the most profound meanings of the cross.

In life, most decisions are routine and quickly forgotten. But sometimes, we’re faced with a choice so profound it alters the course of our lives—and maybe even echoes through history. This Sunday morning, we step into the tension of such a moment through the eyes of a man whose legacy hinges on a single verdict: Pontius Pilate. A Roman governor known for political savvy and self-preservation; Pilate didn’t set out to become infamous. But one Friday morning 2000 years ago, his desire to please the crowd outweighed his willingness to stand for truth.As we examine Pilate’s struggle to render a verdict in Jesus’ trial, we’ll discover something deeply unsettling and strangely familiar—ourselves. The hesitation, the fear of consequence, the subtle slide into compromise—it’s a mirror for our own moments of decision. Will we do what is right, or what is easy? Listen in as we wrestle with the question Pilate could never bring himself to fully answer: What is truth?

Our trial continues this Sunday with a growing case against Christ. This week, the trial shifts its focus to Jesus' remark that his kingdom is “not of this world.” What does that mean? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? A threatening thing or nothing of concern? What might a set of opposing lawyers say to this notion of a kingdom from another world?We will, of course, bring some imaginative elements to the trial, and work out part of these questions via a powerful parable and story. But, in short, the prosecution will argue that a kingdom not of this world, is of no use to this world, and thus, must be condemned. Alternatively, the defense will argue that to truly win the hearts and minds of humanity, Christ’s kingdom should not, and cannot, look anything like worldly kingdoms. It is the only way Jesus’ kingdom can be freely embraced.Which side is more convincing will be up to you.

Our trial, and the case against Christ, begins in earnest this Sunday. We enter the trial scene as Pilate is interrogating Jesus. Frustrated by Jesus’ demeanor before him, a question slips from Pilate’s lips. Ann Wroe calls it a question “too strange to have been invented.” In the middle of his dialogue with Jesus, Pilate blurts out, half to himself, “what is truth?” Did he mutter it scornfully? Was his question sincere? Did Pilate ask the question pensively or impatiently? And what does truth have to do with whether Jesus is a king or not?The quizzical thing to me is that once uttered, the question disappears, and the story simply carries on. The weight of Pilate’s question is just left hanging in the air with no response or resolution. And it is here that I want to hit the pause button and have us imaginatively enter this courtroom drama.What if there had been dialogue about Pilate’s question? What if, in trying Jesus for being a rival king, a team of prosecutors and defense lawyers had taken up that question, each side making their respective case? What would it be like to use “truth” as part of the case against Christ?So, into the courtroom we go. The trial team of lawyers are ready, witnesses have been called. And so, I hope you will join us this Sunday, as quasi jurists, ready to hear the case against Christ as we explore, What is Truth?

Nexus friends, for the remainder of our Lenten season, I want to bring us a little courtroom drama by having us step into the most famous trial in all history: Jesus’ trial before Pilate. To that end, I have created a harmonized account of the trial, drawing from all four gospels, which you can read here. I would recommend reading it once a week leading up to Easter. It will give you a feel for the proceedings and a glimpse into Pilate’s struggle to play the role of both judge and jury at this fateful trial.Mind you, the snapshot we have of the trial in the gospels is rather brief. So, I hope you won’t mind if I bring some artistic liberties and a little flair for the dramatic to the trial. That being said, trial proceedings begin this Sunday with us focusing on the man Pilate—an enigmatic figure torn between duty and conscience, power and truth. As we sit alongside Pilate, we will be confronted with the main charge against Jesus and an uncomfortable question that echoes through the ages: Is Jesus truly a King?My hope is that with some vivid storytelling and deep reflection, we can wrestle honestly with the implications of that question. So, I hope you will join us this Sunday and through the rest of the Lenten season as we engage with this trial of all trials, and prepare for a journey that may leave us unsettled—but deeply transformed. Welcome to The Case AGAINST Christ.

Last week, as we explored reaching out to others, we owned up to our hostility, while considering how reasonable it is to be guarded or defended. It’s a natural human response in a world that is often pretty hostile, especially these days.And, as understandable as hostility is, Jesus leads us beyond - to where that sense of otherness becomes oneness. We are called to hospitality. So we move toward our hostility with trust, compassion, and curiosity; we live aware of our common human search for connection and belonging; and we work to offer space. This week we’ll explore what that space could look like. Is Martha Stewart our guru here, or might there be an even deeper kind of hospitality? We’ll look at scripture, hear some stories, and I’ll share some things that have made a big difference in my journey, including a cat video and a life-changing lesson learned from the most powerful Gospel Contemplation I’ve experienced to date. I hope you’ll be encouraged as we seek to create space for others in our hearts, our homes, our lives. 

This week marks the beginning of our new Lent series “Look Again”. I’ll also be continuing on with my mini-series inspired by Henri Nouwen’s book Reaching Out which explores the question, “What does it mean to live a life in the Spirit of Jesus Christ?” in the context of three movements of reaching out:  How do we relate to our innermost self? (the movement from loneliness to solitude)  How do we relate to our fellow human beings? (the movement from hostility to hospitality) How do we relate to our God? (the movement from illusion to prayer) This time, we consider our relationship with others. The life Jesus calls us to isn't lived in isolation but in community. Hostility impedes and even breaks connection, negatively affecting how we express love as we seek to serve, listen to, and care for those around us. Hostility is easy to find “out there” these days. But what about “in here”? Can we notice how hostility shows up in our own lives and hearts? If we can, what do we do with it? How much are our regular, natural patterns and impulses aligned with Jesus’ call? Is there a sweet spot between self-justification and self-rejection? Listen in as we face our own hostility - a starting point as we break down barriers in a way that may surprise you in order to create spaces of belonging and care.

This Sunday we come to the finale of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Jesus concludes his sermon with a series of potent images. Gates, roads, trees, fruit, fire, foundations, rocks, sand. The challenge for us is that imagery is rarely neutral. And with these images, I have a hunch more than a few of us are carrying some baggage.So, I want to start by exploring how subtitles in the Bible (put there by translators and publishers) often serve to skew messages in the Bible and how the interpretive key to this last passage is easy to find. Then, I want to introduce you to something called the Silver Rule. I think it may help some of us get our heads around what Jesus is asking of us here.I am excited for this Sunday. We have been in the Sermon on the Mount since September, so in wrapping things up, I hope the closure we find truly leaves us with a deeper desire to find and follow the good and flourishing life Jesus is calling us to live.

Friends, I am not sure when the good ol’ days were, but I think one could make a pretty strong case that they were between 2006 and 2016. Why those 10 years? Well, that is when Dos Equis beer was running their “Most Interesting Man in the World” ads.I loved those ads. We were gifted lines about this most interesting man, like, “he once won a staring contest with his own reflection,” or “sharks have a week dedicated to him,” or “he can speak Russian…in French,” or “he once made a weeping willow laugh.” Those ads were delightful. But every ad ended the same way. The Most Interesting Man in the World would stare into the camera and say, “Stay Thirsty, My Friends.”Jesus has now entered the home stretch of his Sermon on the Mount, and we come to a passage of Scripture that has flummoxed me for a long while. It is Jesus’ exhortation to ask, seek, and knock. Jesus promises that those who do will be answered, find what they are looking for, and have doors opened to them. What in the world might Jesus be getting at?I am excited to dig into this passage with you all. To start, I want to tell you about the revelation I had this week about O.J. Simpson and black pickup trucks. Then, I want to introduce you to the Nobel Prize winner, Isidor Isaac Rabi, and the incredible reason he became a scientist. Then we will dig into the passage itself while exploring an oft missed part of Jesus’ teaching style. Finally, we will explore a most curious idea: WHAT we know may be less important than HOW we know. Oh yeah, and somehow The Most Interesting Man in the World ties into all of this.

Folks, I have been both excited and nervous about this one for months. Finally, we arrive at Jesus' teaching and instructions around how we evaluate other people. “Do not judge” is one of Jesus’ most famous lines. But is it really that simple? I mean, a few verses later Jesus seems to contradict himself with talk of some people being like dogs, pigs, wolves, or sheep. It is time to get into the weeds with this one and it promises to be interesting. What does not “judging” others really mean?Now, I think it goes without saying that when we consider judgmental people, resident curmudgeon and wordsmith, Glenn Pascoe, immediately comes to mind. And so, to showcase the pervasive temptation we all feel to cast judgment on others, I have asked Glenn to share about the many petty judgments that occupy his mind. I am sure that will be a treat for all of us, and no doubt take some of the pressure off.From there, we are headed to the trees! It turns out that in considering what it means to evaluate others and discern wisely in life, Scripture provides us two modes of being by way of tree metaphor. And from what I can tell, we tend to spend much of our time at the wrong tree. Also, because I tend to be foolish, I then want to apply our learning by way of one of the most controversial topics of discussion happening today: transgender debates. Pray for me!

Friends, we have a bit of a different Sunday planned. St. Andrew's is hosting a Potato Soup Lunch at 11:30am in Iona Hall. We are invited to join them. It is a fundraiser for Presbyterian World Service & Development. You can learn more about the lunch below. But this means Iona Hall will be set up with tables and chairs for our service. This should be fun and afford us an opportunity to do things a little differently for one Sunday.We are continuing through Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount and the focus of attention turns to worry. According to the American Psychological Association, around 1 in 3 adults are habitual worriers. So, what can Jesus offer us around our propensity to worry?