Right after I interviewed these guys, they interviewed me. They have better mics, better radio voices and better questions. Still trying to figure out which podcast came out the winner, then, in our interview swap.
Two fellow podcasters share how podcast collaboration leads to sermon collaboration. Always intriguing, after 80+ interviews, to learn new things about how people prepare sermons.
Long walks on an Oahu beach with an iPhone to compose thoughts. You know…just your ordinary sermon prep in Hawaii.
Always a pleasure and an honor to offer the sermon for my friends across town at Vox Veniae. A reflection on the value of suffering not only during Lent but throughout the year, along with some Star Wars sentimentality. They were also far too kind to me, editing out the part when I discovered half way through the reading that I had sent the wrong Bible passage to be included on a slide.
Why Jesus is nothing like Clark Kent. And why the devil might be kind of like a squirrel in Up. And why the season of Lent is so awfully valuable.
Between scheduling conflicts, technical barriers and at least one sickness, this interview took a long time to come together. It was worth the wait.
I haven’t water skied in at least ten years, but I remember enough about it to use it as a central metaphor in this sermon. And I could probably still do it, right?
What a pleasure to have a second go around with Tara Beth Leach after her context has changed so much. I’ve spent a good amount of time reflecting on her statement that every sermon is a love letter to her congregation.
This past Sunday, there was lots of talk of circumcision, excrement and mangy scavengers. Sometimes you just have to work with what the text gives you.
Continuing our series of sermons through the letter to the Philippians, and including thoughts on The Lost Boys (Rufio!), pride for a son chasing down rebounds, and a much brief reflection on the phrase “Fear and Trembling” than Søren Kierkegaard.
The title “prophet to the nations” is a deliberate rejection of any understanding of the life of faith that is identified with a single nation or a particular culture. The human task is to grow in conscious and healthy relationship with all reality, and God is the largest part of reality. If God is understood as being local, a tribal deity, he is misunderstood, and our lives are correspondingly reduced.
An ancient letter to a church community in a long dead city mingled with thoughts on a long dead mystery religion, critiques of inaugural language, and beautiful words about Jesus and resurrection from a former soldier of the Nazi regime.
I only spent three years living around Seattle, but I still carry a wee torch for it. That makes it a joy and a treat to talk to someone doing thoughtful sermons there, someone like Kurt.
It’s been a common theme that 2016 wasn’t a good year for most, but we have no guarantees that 2017. As we moved into the new year in our church community, we asked what it means to rest in and share the blessing of God no matter what our immediate circumstances might look like.
The holidays proved disruptive for Sermonsmith, but it was good to be back and it and get the year started right. I didn’t know Jason prior to our interview, but in particular I enjoyed hearing his passion for using the many opportunities in their multi-site church to develop others in the art of giving a sermon.
My first exposure to anything Star Wars is a crystal 1977 memory of a church parking lot. I was six. We were picking up my older brothers as they returned from camp.
We stood at the back of a station wagon. Someone pulled a novelization of Star Wars from their luggage and showed the cluster of us. Our focus was an inset of color pictures in the center of the paperback. My focus was Chewbacca. I knew two things from these stills — he flew a spaceship and he was the most amazing thing I had ever seen.
We soon saw the movie as a family. My parents had seen it and decided we had to see it too. I turned to my dad when the first ship appeared in those immediate seconds and asked, “Is Chewbacca driving that ship?”
I remember my first childhood viewing of each of the other movies in that original trilogy. And if I’m honest, my first adult viewings of the first trilogy too.
I’m not a master of Star Wars knowledge and trivia and fandom. I can’t name every minor character from the movies. I haven’t cosplayed anything Star Wars since October 31, 1977. (Chewbacca, of course.) But when it comes to measuring Star Wars sentimentality, I’m an elite.
The Disney renaissance of Star Wars is my dad utopia. All of my kids are interested and I’m happy to invest in their future sentiment. We saw The Force Awakens on opening day. We watch Star Wars Rebels together every week. Every member of our family has had at least one limb severed by a light saber. (Not covered by the Affordable Care Act. Thanks Obama.)
The buildup for Rogue One anticipated a grittier, more war-like movie. Would it be, could it be, for kids as young as 9? We held off on opening day tickets to wait and see.
Last Friday was angsty.
We finally bought tickets on some early media reviews. But then reports from friends and articles suggested this one wasn’t as kid friendly. Our youngest begged to see it and we wavered, drowning his hopes in ambiguity.
The night before our ticketed showing, my wife and I retreated to our master bathroom, the most private place we could find. We deliberated. We were interrupted at least three times as he hoped for clarity. We talked about the vague reviews of a darker movie with some more intense specifics. I tried to displace my elite sentimentality, but it was gosh darn difficult.
In the end, we went.
I warned my two youngest that I might ask them to close their eyes a time or two. I never did, though one of the scenes in question happened while my youngest and I were in the bathroom. (My middlest, without my directive presence, closed her eyes anyway.)
Am I glad we went? Yep. Any regrets? Nope. It might not be for all kids, and it might not be for yours. But we’ve had lots of conversations in the last 24 hours about hope and war and imagination and oppression and good and bad and Easter eggs and funny robot lines.
And in 40 years, I have a strong inkling my three kids will remember this day.
I can vouch for 2 hrs 11 minutes of Rogue One being everything I hoped they would be. The other two minutes were spent on a bathroom sojourn with my son, so I can’t speak to them. I’m sure they were good though.
I’ve had some level of proximity and connection to Jimmy Eat World since their earliest days as a band. Tons of fun to hear Jim describe the early days and fill in the gaps since. And his thoughts along the way about doing creative work are pretty solid too.