This time of year everyone is recalibrating. The end of a year is always rich with introspection, and remembering what goals or plans we had for the last year that happened or fell away. If you listen to what drives that in most people, you can hear the guilt they carry from looking back over the last year and realizing a bit of what 2 Peter 3:8 means when it says, "that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day." Time passes quickly, particularly when looking back. I've heard the refrain from seasoned parents that parenting is "long days and short years". That's true in many ways for all of us, regardless of whether we've had children.

This song came out around the same time I entered worship ministry (2000ish). It didn't make a huge splash, but it stuck with me. It's a beautiful prayer for any believer that feels the weight of new beginnings. It's a plea that God would recenter us and strip away the distractions we amass so that we can live in such a way that our purpose is clear, and our lives would not be wasted. I want that for myself. Every New Years, this song does a significant work in me, and I would invite you to listen in and let it do the same for you.

Two versions of the Lord's prayer are recorded in the gospels: a longer version in Matthew and a shorter one in Luke. Lutheran theologian Harold Buls has suggested that both were original, the Matthew version spoken by Jesus early in his ministry in Galilee, and the Luke version one year later, "very likely in Judea".^[4]

The prayer has been called "the summary of the gospel" and has been a core part of church liturgy since the very beginning. While I reject many of the doctrines from the church that initially recorded this version of the prayer, I don't believe that any denomination or even heretic gets to claim and then taint scripture for their own purposes in such a way that God won't use His word in faithful churches.

I don't think it's essential for every song to be word-for-word from the ESV, and there is massive benefit in songwriters aimed at the gathering using their creative abilities to write songs that speak to real life struggles and celebrations. The word of God interacts with every sphere of life, and I would argue that authenticity (as defined biblically and not culture) is more important now than ever before. Artists in every local church have the opportunity to bridge the Sunday experience and the everyday stuff of life.

If you need a moment to connect yourself to the history of the saints that have gone before us, sing along with this one.

On rare occasion I run across a song in the worship landscape that moves me deeply. It doesn't happen often. Lots of reasons for that, some of which land on me, and some of which are caused by the great machine we call CCM. In any case, I can remember the first Sunday I sang these words, and it felt like something inside my soul shook free:

You split the sea
so I could walk right through it.
My fears are drowned in perfect love.
You rescued me so I could stand and say
"I am a child of God".

No Longer Slaves by Jonathan and Melissa Hesler

I'm all for theological scrutiny, and I believe that lyrical clarity and poetry are a tough fence to walk at times in music written for the gathering, but I'm grateful that from time to time, a song that was penned from a camp or tribe I don't align with can accomplish something important in my own life and the life of the church.

Most of us struggle with either the imminence or transcendence of God. For me it's always been the former. His greatness and power have never truly been doubted in my mind, much less his presence in the global sense. It's His nearness and desire to bless that's always been on trial in my own heart, despite the mountains of evidence collected over the course of my lifetime to pronounce Him innocent of my charges.

I recognize that God is first and foremost concerned with His glory, and the display of his name and works to the world. But I think His love for us is not far behind, and in a way that's hard for us to grasp, He actually does both concurrently all the time. He's capable of parting the waters for you and I, not because he owes us anything, not because he bows down to us, not because he only exists to make the road easier for me, but because He can be glorified and act in love to make a way for His kids. Not a way of comfort or ease, but certainly one of power and victory.

I've always found it odd that some in churches speak of the hymns as though they were all divinely inspired, worthy of canon, and timeless. As a collector of old vintage hymnals I can assure you there are some real duds out there.

This particular hymn was written in 1836, then brought back to life by Matthew Smith of Indelible Grace in 2006. I've played it for the last decade and it's traveled well. The theologian in me loves the depth, while the musician in me loves the feathers it ruffles when people realize it's loaded with claims about God's sovereignty. I've had many a post-service conversation, thankfully mostly with curious and open-minded folks who want to understand the tension between God's rule and our responsibility. I usually respond by saying that they are both true, and none of us fully understand where the two meet. Of course I have more thoughts on the matte than that, and some think that's lazy for a pastor to frame the topic that way. I think it's arrogant to say much more.

The truth is that most people who have ever posed a theological question of me are most often trying to wrestle through something at a heart level with a head approach. Theology engages both to be sure, but "why did my Mom die of cancer" is a much more honest question than "is God really the one who loves us first?" A large part of pastoring people means listening for the question behind the question. That goes for our own hearts and thoughts too.

Keeping the theme of partnership and unity going, we were invited to lead worship for the annual Jubilee Worship in the Park event last summer. This last year would be our second and final time doing so. The staff of Jubilee are an easy bunch to work with, and I appreciate their heart to see so many different churches come together under the name and banner of Christ.

Choosing songs for an event with dozens of churches and different denominational leanings is always an interesting exercise, and I find that it's best to press even harder into what would serve the room (or lawn) rather than my personal favorite tunes from recent months. I'm grateful for the team that invested extra time and energy to make sure this could release on time, even in the chaos of COVID-era Seattle.

A few months ago, we joined forces with Icon Church, a plant that came out of Doxa and celebrated Easter together. Their music team jumped in with us, and it was a blast to craft the gathering together. Baptisms, celebratory songs, and a strong message on Christ risen from the grave made for a memorable Sunday.

Partnership between churches is often a strained and complicated thing to pull of: egos, denominational fences, personalities, ministry approach, musical stylings, insecurities, and the list goes on. The prize for working through all that is pretty special, and I have to think that God is pleased when a couple of churches do the thing they sing about.

In many years of following Christ, I have only recently stopped being surprised when I find myself charging ahead and plotting my life with little pause or invitation for God to lead me, rather than for me to run ahead and hope he "catches up".

It doesn't surprise me anymore, because I have demonstrated consistently that I am capable of repeating that mistake over and over. Many of us, if we were feeling honest, could point to a variety of ways in which we run ahead, form our plans, set our expectations, and then shoot something up resembling a prayer asking God to stamp said plans.

Our theology tells us this is upside down. Our Bibles tell us this is misordered. But we still do it, thinking we have all the necessary ingredients to know what's next and make a fulfilled life.

What we need instead, is to trust that God is for us and ahead of us. Only then can we believe that he desires to do good, and we are wise to wait for him to reveal his plans. He is even willing to invite us in those plans, if we would only let him be our vision.

This song is a strange amalgamation of old hymn, and modern love song. The melody comes from Mumford and Sons "Sign No More" album that released in 2009. I first played this with my touring bands in worship environments and conferences where the response was overwhelmingly positive, mostly because at that time, M&S felt like a safe thing for Christian hipsters to enjoy, and church-folk appreciated the repurposing of an old hymn they didn't know. Folk rock was finding itself again while Christian artists began donning newsie caps and muted linens, blurring the wardrobe of the 1930s with skinny jeans and a stylish boot.

I have always required the Lord to rouse me from seasons of spiritual fatigue and sleep. It does not always come with my first request, but the experience of being found over and over again is a kindness that God is not required to show, but seems happy to do so.

I don't fall in the camp that believes that every song written in the last twenty years is self-absorbed, man-centered, theologically-vapid, garbage. But I do think carefully examining songs that have stood the test of time is a worthy practice.

St. Francis of Assisi (nicknamed Francesco.."the Frenchman" by his father) was born in 1226) and was an Italian Catholic friar and preacher. He founded the men's Order of Friars Minor, the women’s Order of St. Clare. Though he was never ordained to the Catholic priesthood, Francis is one of the most venerated religious figures in history.

Turns out Francesco wrote a banger(or two or twenty) that have stayed with the global church for centuries.