Advent in the Checkout Line 12/13/25

 

Last month, I walked into the store with a simple mission: to buy a birthday gift for a friend’s five-year-old kid.

My schedule was packed tight with meetings, so I had zero margin for error. I grabbed a toy, scanned the registers, and picked what looked like the "fast lane."

That was my first mistake.

The person in front of me didn't just have a cart full of groceries; they had questions. They needed a price check. Not just for one item, but for multiple items. One by one. I checked my watch. I tapped my foot. My blood pressure started to rise.

Then, the drama escalated. Just as it was finally my turn, the cashier ran out of receipt paper. We waited while she fumbled with the roll. Then, she couldn’t find the item code on her list. And then, the grand finale: The system crashed. The screen went black.

After twenty minutes of agonizing waiting, the manager looked at me and said the words I dreaded most: "I'm sorry, sir. You'll have to move to the back of the next line."

I stood there, defeated, holding a toy for a five-year-old. And ironically, inside my heart, I felt like I was the five-year-old—ready to throw a temper tantrum because I couldn't get what I wanted, when I wanted it.

We often treat waiting like that checkout line—as a "system failure." We think that if we have to wait, something has gone wrong. We assume God’s plan has crashed, or He is disorganized, or He is just wasting our time.

But this is the season of Advent. It reminds us that the most important event in history—the arrival of the Savior—didn't happen instantly. It took centuries of longing. It took generations of holding onto a promise when nothing seemed to be happening.

God doesn't experience system crashes. When He makes us wait, He isn't sending us to the back of the line because He made a mistake. He is preparing us to receive something far greater than we planned.

If things aren't moving according to your schedule today, take a deep breath. You aren't stuck in a broken line. You are simply in the season of Advent. The gift is coming, and it is worth the wait.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God's "Yes, And" 11/20/25

In the world of improv theater, there is one golden rule: “Yes, And.”

Imagine a scene where one actor shouts, “Look! The building is on fire!” If the other actor replies, “No, we are in the middle of the ocean,” the scene instantly dies. The story hits a wall. But if the actor replies, “Yes, the building is on fire! And, look—here comes a fire truck driven by a clown!” the story continues, moving in a direction no one expected.

Our lives are much like a grand improvisation with God. Often, when we face unexpected hardships or broken plans, our instinct is to scream, “No!” We want to tear up the script. But God never panics. He never says “No” to the reality of our lives. Instead, He speaks a powerful “Yes, And”—affirming our reality while expanding our possibilities.

 

A "Yes, And" from the Chesapeake Bay

Here is another story. Many of us in Maryland know the story of Joni Eareckson Tada. In 1967, a diving accident in the Chesapeake Bay left her a quadriplegic. At first, she begged God for a "No"—to reverse the accident. But God offered something deeper. He said “Yes” to her reality: "I am with you in this chair." “And” He added a new purpose: "You cannot use your hands, and I will teach you to paint with your mouth. You cannot walk, and your story will travel the world." By embracing God's "Yes," her life was redesigned from a tragedy into a masterpiece of hope.

 

Miracles in the Wilderness 
We see this in the feeding of the 5,000. The disciples saw scarcity and shouted "No." But Jesus looked at five loaves and two fish and said “Yes”—He accepted the meager lunch exactly as it was. Then, He looked to heaven for the “And.” He blessed it, and scarcity became abundance. Jesus didn’t reject the smallness; He used it as the ingredient for a miracle.

 

Here is a note to my Church Family. If you feel stuck, remember- God does not put periods where there is still life to be lived. Rather He would say "Yes, dear." And after that, He'd add "And, what next? Let's think about that. I will be on your side." 

God looks at us today—our limits, our failures, our unfinished dreams—and His "Yes" is far over these. SAYS, “Yes.” He accepts you fully. He has more for you. He wants to change your "No"s to His "Yes"s. There we, HRUMC, may find one simple but powerful reason not to stop what we've been doing.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." — 2 Corinthians 12:9

 

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The Patient Ferment - 11/05/25

If you ask a church leader today, "What’s your strategy?" you’ll likely hear about five-year plans, digital outreach metrics, and engagement funnels. We have become experts at planning, branding, and building. We are, in many ways, obsessed with human intention.

But what if the church was never meant to be a "plan"?

In my recent studies, I’ve been captivated by the counter-intuitive story of the early church. How did a small, marginalized group of "resident aliens" in the Roman Empire manage to grow? As scholar Alan Kreider notes, it wasn't through "aggressive evangelism."

Instead, the church grew by being "odd but intriguing."

Alan Kreider, in his book The Patient Ferment of the Early Church, attributes their growth to this quality. Like yeast, this growth wasn't loud or explosive, but a slow, persistent, life-altering presence. He terms it a "life-giving deviance." 

This "deviance" is key. Nijay Gupta, in Strange Religion, notes early Christians seemed bizarre. Why? Because they lived by a "new set of ethics" that directly collided with Roman values. They cared for the poor, valued every life, and rejected the empire's definitions of power and status.

This "strangeness" didn't repel people; it made them curious.

The first church wasn't a product of human intention. As the Book of Acts shows, it was "born naturally" when disciples gathered in the Spirit. It was a community formed by God, not a corporation built by men.

This challenges us. While successful programs are practically important, perhaps our primary calling is to be that "patient ferment" in our lives. To live by Kingdom ethics so "oddly intriguing" the world asks why. That may be the most powerful "growth strategy" of all.

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Combination Robot - 10/22/25

​Do you remember combination robots? Those wonderful toys where small robots would transform and combine into one magnificent giant robot?

​I have such fond memories of those. As a child, I would save up my allowance—earned through chores, good grades, and listening to my mom—to buy each piece, one at a time. First the torso, then an arm, then a leg. The waiting was hard, but the joy of finally connecting all the pieces together? That feeling stays with me even now.

​Recently, I found myself thinking about those robots again, and it struck me: The Church is kind of like a combination robot.

In Ephesians 1:22-23, Paul writes that Christ is "the head over everything for the church, which is his body." And in 1 Corinthians 12:27, he reminds us, "Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it."

​Christ is the head. And we—each one of us—we're the different parts of his body. Each person matters. Each person belongs.

The beautiful difference, of course, is this: I bought those toy pieces with my small allowance. But Jesus purchased us—his Church—with something far more precious. Acts 20:28 tells us that the Church was bought "with his own blood."

​One by one, Jesus has been gathering us. Calling us. Drawing us close. Some of us have been here for years. Others have just arrived. But all of us have been carefully chosen and dearly loved by him.

​When those little robots came together, they became something wonderful—something stronger and more beautiful than any single piece could be alone.

​The same is true for us.

When we gather as the Church, we become the hands and feet of Jesus in this world. Together, we can bring his love to places that need it. Together, we can serve, welcome, encourage, and heal in ways we never could by ourselves.

​But a combination robot doesn't work if the pieces stay in the box.

​So I want to invite you—gently, warmly—to consider where you might fit in this beautiful body. Maybe you're someone who loves to serve. Maybe you have a heart for children or youth. Maybe you're gifted at welcoming others or creating beauty through music. Maybe you're called to support God's work through your giving, helping to sustain the ministries that reach our community.

Whatever your gift, HRUMC needs you. Not because we're incomplete without you—but because Jesus has a place for you here, and we would be honored to serve alongside you.

​If you've been wondering how to get more connected, this is your gentle nudge. You belong here. You're already part of this family. And when we come together under Christ, our head, something beautiful happens.

We become his presence in this community—moving with his love, serving with his hands, walking where his heart leads.

And honestly? That's more wonderful than any toy I ever had as a child.

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