Atlanta Westside Presbyterian Church

We all want some combination of change and stability. The author of Hebrews argues that the Gospel gives us both sweeter stability and sturdier hope than living under the law. A Christian's "address" is no longer the scary, gloomy Mount Sinai where God gave Moses the Law, but the full and festive Mount Zion, the heavenly Jerusalem where angels, saints and God himself rejoice for all eternity.

The race of faith requires discipline. Discipline includes embracing hard circumstances that God sends our way, and also hard choices that we make to fight our own sin. In both cases, we trust that we are God's beloved children, and he wants to redeem our pain to make us more like himself. Because discipline hurts, we must remember that Jesus always goes before us, trusting his Father's will to the point of shedding his blood for us.Some resources on "straightening the path":- Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, Pete Scazzero- The Common Rule, Justin Whitmel Early- Liturgy of the Ordinary, Tish Harrison Warren- You Are What You Love, James K.A. Smith- Practicing the Way, John Mark Comer

In this very personal gratitude psalm of great deliverance, we come back to the simple truth that God's grace has radically liberated us from death. The Gospel changes everything, and we are called to sing this with everything in our beings. No matter what stage of life we are in, if you are in Christ then you have been delivered. With that, our praise of deliverance should come forth in our public worship. But, how often do we truly live like this? If we are alive in Christ, then why are we still doing dead things? And how can we live like the psalmist giving daily outbursts of thanks to God's honor? How does this psalm challenge the way you give thanks to the Lord? Where in your life can you give an outburst of praise to the Lord and honor Him?

Faith is a way of seeing, and the saints in the second half of Hebrews 11 saw two things: solidarity and resilience. From Moses through the judges, the prophets, and early Christian martyrs, faith chooses to identify with the people of God rather than the "fleeting pleasures of sin." And when suffering threatened to undo them, faith strengthened them to endure, contributing to what Augustine called the City of Man while waiting most of all for the City of God.

Faith is a way of seeing the present through the lens of the future. The first half of Hebrews 11, often called the "Honor Roll of Faith," illustrates how the Old Testament patriarchs "saw" two vital elements of life: God's approval, and God's inheritance.

Psalm 123 is one of 15 Psalms of Ascent, so named because God required his people to make the mountainous journey to his temple in Jerusalem three times a year. Psalms of Ascent were written to sing and were very communal, drawing God's people together as they made their uphill journey toward the temple. Outside of whatever difficulties we face in attending church each Sunday, we really can't compare the journey God's people took to get to Jerusalem. However, something we do have in common is that we are all to take a journey toward God, whatever it may entail, to celebrate him. But there was no laughter here, just real frustration in their voices; singing their cries for mercy as they walked. Let's consider together how we can journey to celebration through the tension lamenting brings with looking and longing found in Psalm 123.

How do we draw near to God? Hebrews 10:19-29 describes five essential ways: Through Jesus, with a true heart, without wavering, all together, till the Day.

If Christians permanently, perfectly forgiven, why don't we feel it? Hebrews 10 suggests that we still tend to lean on the old repetitive patterns of the law, including Baton Theology (Jesus saves us, and we take it from there), A Debtor's Ethic (we earn our ongoing forgiveness), and Gamifying God (we try to measure our performance rather than lean into his love). Because Jesus completed the work of redemption once for all time, none of these efforts work. Yet this very fact then becomes our greatest motivation to hate sin and love righteousness. Liberated from the burden of satisfying God's justice and indwelt by his own Spirit, we can progressively become more like him in practice.

Jesus draws a contrast between the intoxicating agony of ministry and the helpless wonder of salvation. It's not wrong to rejoice that Jesus is pleased to channel his power through us, but it is infinitely more awesome that he saves us at all. Ironically, those who rejoice in their salvation above all become more effective channels of his power. Walter preached this sermon for the opening worship service of Metro Atlanta Presbytery.

Joy is possible despite our circumstances because we know Christ and have an identity not based on our efforts but based on all that Christ has done. It is tempting to put our confidence in the value system of the world around us, but what Christ offers us is far superior than anything else we could ever possess. Our achievements or accolades cannot be the basis for our identity because ultimately God doesn't want you to impress him; he wants you to trust him.

In this passage, we meet a man in crisis: His life has come apart, and he comes to Jesus for rescue. But he is afraid: even if Jesus can help him, would Jesus even want to? This story reveals Jesus as more than simply a miraculous healer, but also a compassionate God, who knows us better than we might suspect. 

The old covenant sacrificial system viscerally illustrated the truth that “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins” (Hebrews 9:22). Jesus perfects this principle, presenting his own blood “once for all” in the true tent, the actual presence of God. This new and better covenant doesn't just purify our bodies, but even our consciences—assuring us that we belong with him forever. For all who believe, the Bible's constant talk of blood and sacrifice is not an embarrassing relic of primitive ages but an ongoing cause for gratitude and wonder.

What kind of story are Christians living in? Hebrews 8 reveals a sharp contrast between the default story of human progress and the Gospel story of grace.

In this message Rev. Dr. Lloyd Kim, Coordinator for Mission to the World, challenges believers to heed Jesus' calling to carry the Good News to the ends of the earth. But we can't do it on our own. This calling requires a kingdom vision (an authentic relationship with Jesus), a kingdom mission (bigger than our personal transformation), and kingdom power (the indwelling Holy Spirit). What if God is calling YOU to do something different than what you are currently doing?

Ezekiel's vision of the valley of dry bones is a dramatic picture of the hope of the Gospel. Not only will all who trust in Jesus be physically resurrected, as Jesus was, but his Holy Spirit both dwells in us and fills up in us. As a result, we like Ezekiel can preach to the dry bones in our lives, and pray to the Breath to give them Life.

A meditation for Good Friday.

Everyone needs "priests" to give us authorized external confirmation that we are good enough, but all of our earthly priests will fail us, consigning us to a life of perpetual struggle. Jesus, however, is better than every priest who ever lived, even the mysterious priest-king Melchizedek, because his offering for us was final, and his prayers for us are perpetual. His once-for-all sacrifice on the cross, and his constant intercession for us at the Father's right hand, enable us to engage in the imperfect, two-steps-forward, one-step-back work of sanctification without fear.

Why should we trust the promises of God? Hebrews 6 gives us three reasons: a compelling example, a proven principle, and a satisfying metaphor. The compelling example is Abraham, patiently (and sometimes impatiently) waited for God to fulfill his promises. The proven principle is God swearing by his own self. Though oaths like this are less relied on today, they expose the personal acts of trust at the heart of all knowing. The satisfying metaphor has three parts: an anchor, the holy place behind the veil, and a forerunner—Jesus himself. Altogether, these reasons provide those who have fled for refuge with strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us.

It can be hard to tell the difference between an immature Christian and an inauthentic one. According to the author of Hebrews, the main difference is growth. While it is possible for people with significant spiritual experiences to "fall away," those who receive the gift of salvation by grace through faith in Jesus cannot lose it. At the same time, God wants us to keep growing into this salvation—to build on foundational practices and graduate from milk to solid food, giving us practical wisdom for every situation in life.

Many of us wake up each morning weighed down by the stress of life's difficulties, pains, miseries, and so on. The world is constantly looking for solutions, but so far every man-made effort has failed. However, Jesus met every qualification to be that better solution. He became human, with limitations, who suffered and endured weakness, just as we do. And because of this, he understands us.

Christians who believe the Good News of Jesus can be confident that they will one day enter eternal rest with God in the new heavens and new earth. Until then, we can also rest in God's peace, regardless of our circumstances. But this, too, requires strenuous believing, starting with the promise that Jesus has achieved our rest for us—so we don't have to! It also involves practicing sabbath in community, embracing our limits and letting the Gospel expose the thoughts and intentions of our hearts.

When believing gets painful, Christians have a choice: Either let your heart get hardened, which is easy, or hold fast to your hope, which is hard. Thankfully, your heavenly calling was already secured for you by the Father, earned for you by the Son, and sustained for you by the Holy Spirit. This means you only have to “take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of you” (Philippians 3:12 NIV). And you don't have to do it alone. As Hebrews will keep reminding us, we must “exhort (or encourage) one another every day.”

Jesus was made like us so that we could be made like him. The author of Hebrews reminds us, citing Psalm 8, that we were made to be kings and queens, ruling God's world on his behalf. At present, however,  sin has made us slaves to the fear of death instead. To remedy this situation, Jesus had to become like us in every respect, forging bonds of shared understanding that help us to trust him. And by suffering in all these ways, even through the cross and the empty tomb, Jesus blazes a trail of transformation for us to follow.

God is speaking to you. Are you listening?  If Jesus is not supreme to you, something else will be. And you're not paying close attention, the current will carry you away from him. But if Jesus is supreme to you, and if you are paying closer attention to what he has said, you can become an agent of his divine speech.

Elijah was considered the greatest of all the prophets. But despite all his victories, he still runs in fear into the wilderness to escape death, falling into a state of depression, and asking the LORD to take his life. Instead, God sent an angel to comfort and provide for him. This experience taught Elijah that God does not always show up in powerful events. Sometimes, it's in the small whispers.

The Old Testament law of tithing does not carry over neatly into tithing our income today—but it does illustrate that the heart of God is to include us in his generous feast of grace. The more we grasp his heart, the more we give away with more freedom and more joy. God's priorities for our giving start with ministries that support the worship of God's people, especially local churches, and also the poor and marginalized.

To live ”not by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” includes obeying God's moral laws, but it never stops there. It also means trusting his commitment to bless us abundantly with literal food and every other material thing we need. Scripture is a feast that orients us to all of life: Who God is, who we are, why we are here, and where it's all going. Above all, it means trusting in The Word, Jesus, whose life, death and resurrection is the interpretive key to understanding every other word from God. When the fulness of God's Word “dwells richly in us” (Colossians 3:16), we lack no good thing.

Joseph's dramatic meal with his brothers illustrates the complex currents flowing around all of our tables. In different relationships, we find ourselves in the Guarded role like Joseph, the Guilty role like his older brothers, or the Graced role like Benjamin. Only the sovereign hand of God can steer these stories toward redemption, and that's exactly what God does. Jesus is the true and better Joseph, the Bible's only hero, whose death on the cross makes us graced, and whose Holy Spirit makes us agents of grace to others.

The only story about Jesus' childhood in the Bible is bookended by two summary statements which cover about 90% of Jesus' life—from infancy to age 30. Together they remind us that Jesus' entire life was one of physical, spiritual and relational growth. He shared the secret of this growth when his parents found him in the temple after the Passover: "I must be in my Father's house" (v. 49) — or more literally, "about my Father's business." This daily dependence on his Father is how Jesus, who already had the favor of God (v. 40) could also grow in favor with God (v. 52). In the same way, we who believe already have the favor of God through Jesus' sacrifice for us, yet we can grow in that favor as we depend on the Father like he did.

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Isaiah's prophecy of the Suffering Servant suggests that Jesus was not physically attractive, and nothing in the Gospel accounts suggests otherwise. Why? Why wouldn't he be the most beautiful human who ever lived? The answer, Isaiah suggests, lies in his mission to rescue humanity from our dead-end quest to trust in our own beauty. Jesus challenges us to fight to find beauty in the ugly places of grace, and to follow fading beauty to the unfading beauty of God himself.

During Advent, we look back at the birth of Christ and ahead to his return. 

In this passage today, we see that Martha is a lot like us. She is driven and has goals and a plan for the evening; she has an idea of how the night will go. She also knows that she has to take charge because Mary isn't doing it. Martha is also restless and anxious. What we find, though, is that Martha and Mary have different postures around Jesus, the King of kings. Yet, one has chosen something completely different from the other. What does this look like for us today?

God's call of Abram sets the mold for the entire Bible: One man is chosen in order to bless the whole world. This blessing doesn't just save individuals; it builds a flourishing society. And Abram's participation in the blessing is entirely free, yet it costs him everything.

The tower of Babel is a powerful picture of human cooperation gone wrong—and of God's overruling grace to make things right. It's not really about pride and folly as much as the drive to find security and identity apart from God. When we resist being drawn with God into the thrilling diversity of his world, we find that: we're always exhausted, our fear never goes away, we've got company, it doesn't work, and it scares people away.

Noah's drunken final chapter reminds us that all of us are shaped by the models around us, especially our families, but that God always works through fallible people. Ultimately, Jesus is re-gathering people from all the scattered descendants of Noah into his new family where grace reigns.

After the flood, God leads us to expect that life and blessing will continue to multiply, but in the shadow of death and judgment. This includes a new relationship to animals where we, the “apex predators” are accountable to God for how we treat animal life and especially human life. It also includes God's covenant to preserve creation until Jesus returns to make all things new. In the sign of this covenant, God commits to redeem humanity, even aiming his “war bow” at his own heart. Millennia later, Jesus will fulfill this covenant promise on the cross.

Waiting is hard, but God is at work while we wait. During Noah's long year in the ark, God reconfigured his posture toward the animal world, making him a more humble, cooperative, wondering steward of their lives. Above all, God was training Noah to trust him. We need to learn that same trust today. For Christians, our hope is not just in the "wind" that God uses to blow away the waters of chaos, but in his own Holy Spirit who lives within us, comforting, teaching, correcting, empowering and guaranteeing our permanent future with him.

Genesis 7 lingers in the devastating details of the flood in order to deepen our appreciation for the mercy of God. Noah is not the hero of this story; God is. God gathers the animals, God shuts the door, and God preserves every creature within from the rising waters. 1 Peter 3 says the ark is a picture of baptism, which saves us because of the resurrection of Jesus. Jesus himself reminds us in Matthew 24 that his own return will come as unexpectedly as the flood—therefore we must not delay to hide ourselves by faith in the ark of his mercy.

In the time of Noah, unrestrained sex and violence revealed that human beings didn't want to serve God; they wanted to be God. Rather than an angry overreaction, God's plan to flood the world was a grieving act of uncreation and re-creation, bringing judgment and mercy at the same time. But Noah didn't earn the right to receive this mercy; as verse 8 emphasizes, he “found favor in the eyes of the LORD” before he is described as righteous. This upside-down order of grace forms the pattern for the whole Bible and a preview of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which continues to make people increasingly righteous in God's sight.

The book of Galatians is a case study in loving well and loving poorly. Paul's letter highlights the importance of building, nurturing, and protecting a relational culture shaped by the Gospel. The Gospel creates a very unique relational culture—a culture that affirms our beauty, acknowledges our brokenness, and anticipates the Day we will “be made perfect in love” (1 John3:1-3). We who love poorly now will love perfectly forever. The local church is called to inhabit this tension with honesty, humility, and hope. 

The genealogy of Seth raises several hard questions about patriarchy, gender, literalism and biblical authority. Ultimately, though, it illustrates the sovereign grace of God working through broken people to restore us to relationship to him, forever. 

Human culture always has the capacity for good, for evil, or for some combination of both. The descendants of murderous Cain engaged in good pursuits: city-building, livestock farming, music, technology, family-building and poetry. Yet because they rejected God's loving rule, the way they practiced them was often corrupted, most heinously by Lamech's polygamy and violent hyper-retribution. Enosh, however, the first descendant in the godly line of Seth, presents a contrast. According to biblical scholar Bruce Waltke, his name means weakness—and it was in the time of Enosh when people began to recognize their need for God. Today, Christians who live by faith in the “just mercy” of Jesus should still engage in all the worthy pursuits of culture-making. And rather than seeing all corruption as “out there” in The Culture, we must recognize that sin also exists in us and in Christian subcultures. A godly attitude toward culture-making, then, is both humble and curious, expecting that God can use unbelievers along with us to develop his world.

The story of Cain and Abel shows us ourselves, and more important, it shows us the heart of God:·      We are stubbornly independent from God, but God is stubbornly interested in us·      We are half-hearted toward him, but he is relentless in pursuing us·      We are envious of others, but he is curious about us·      We are vulnerable to sin's sneak attacks, but he is powerful to fight with and for us·      We are murderous, but he is just, making sure sin is paid for·      We are self-pitying, but God is mercifulWalter's 2018 sermons on Genesis 1-3:Genesis 1:1-2:3 DesignedGenesis 2:4-25 DefinedGenesis 2:21-3:24 Misaligned

Joseph of Arimathea is the patron saint of sharing your circles—all the human networks that connect resources to needs. Even Mary Magdalene and "the other Mary," despite their apparent powerlessness, used their nonthreatening social status to become vital eyewitnesses to Jesus' resurrection. In the economy of God, grace is free and our participation is a gift, opening up limitless possibilities to be used by him for the good of the world.

People who share the burdens of others must be willing to share their own. Jesus modeled this habit throughout his earthly ministry, especially in his agonizing night in the garden of Gethsemane. While his burden was utterly unique, Christians can follow his example by first sharing our burdens with our Father, then sharing some things with someone (not everything with everyone). And even when people fail us, we still need them.Resources Consulted:A Praying Life, by Paul Miller

Attention is the most basic form of generosity. Jesus modeled this attentiveness in his unusual interaction with the Syrophoenician woman. Like her, we who know the gracious attention of Jesus are liberated from self-absorption to give our attention to others, even if only for a few minutes. Seen people see people. Resources consulted:- Making Room, Christine Pohl- Secular Creed, Rebecca McLaughlin