Bret Hammond
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I lost an hour of sleep last night, but that doesn't begin to compare to the hours of sleep I lost as a teenager contemplating the text I'll be preaching today! Growing up, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-17 was read as a warning. One day, a trumpet would sound, and in the twinkling of an eye, Christians all over the world would disappear. Those left behind would be plunged into a time of tribulation and difficulty like never before. That thought terrified me! Of course, it terrified me before I became a Christian. I didn't want to be left behind with the rest of the losers! I distinctly remember driving back to town after an early morning hunting trip with my dad and seeing no cars on the road. "It's happened, and I've missed it!" I thought. "It's going to be every man for himself, and I didn't even get a single squirrel this morning! I am SOOO dead!" But it terrified me after I became a Christian, also. The thought of leaving friends and family behind filled me with anxiety about how they would fend for themselves and what they might have to endure. And, of course, as a teenage boy, I was plagued with the fear of what I would miss out on if Jesus came back today! There was so much of life ahead of me—cars, college, and . . . well . . . other stuff. Sociologists told me there was something I was thinking about at least once every six minutes. "Dear Jesus, I want to go to heaven, but please, not until after I've done THAT!" If only I had read the next verse. After all that bizarre stuff in 1 Thessalonians 4:13-17, verse 18 concludes with, "Therefore encourage one another with these words." Not "terrify one another," not "scare teenage boys out of misbehaving," but "encourage one another!" I would have slept much better if I had only read that last verse! In this message, needing one more hour of sleep, I do my best to bring encouragement as we unpack the hope Paul loads into these few verses.
"Have you heard about Jim? The tests were negative." You reply with, "That's good news!" "Did you hear about Carrie? She had the baby! It's a boy, and both are doing great!" And again, you reply, "That's good news!" You know good news when you hear it! It would be entirely accurate to say that the Bible is a book of good news. That's what the angel brought, right? Doesn't it seem like we just read Luke 2:10 a few weeks ago? "I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all people." Good news causes joy. Good news brings relief. Good news is worth telling! And so, when Paul was worried about his friends in Thessalonica—did their faith survive after he was torn away from them so abruptly? Timothy returned with a report about them, and the only way to express his response was with words usually reserved for his Savior. "Timothy has just now come to us from you and has brought good news about your faith and love" (1 Thessalonians 3:6). It's a biblical oddity; one of only two times "good news" is used in the New Testament for anything other than salvation. But its usage makes me wonder, what's the good news about you and me? What about us is worthy of language reserved for our King? I suspect the good news about the Thessalonians could likely be the good news about you and about those who share their faith love with you.
When Trish and I went out for dinner the other night, I held the door open for an older couple walking into the restaurant. That same night, an older man opened a door for me because I was carrying precious cargo—a pizza to take home to the kids! We have dedicated greeters at South Side who hold the door open for everyone. An open door is an invitation and so much more. It lets people know they're welcome, not just into the building but the community. Opening the door for someone tells them that they belong. Psalm 24 calls for doors to be opened for an honored guest. Verse 7 calls out, "Be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in!" We hold the door for guests, friends, and those weighed down with years and pizzas. And we open the door for God as well, that the King of glory might enter our lives and join us in our joys and sorrows, celebrations and struggles. In this sermon, we wrap up our look at Psalm 24 by opening the door for the King to come in.
Few books of the Bible go off the rails as quickly or completely as the book of Job. Before the end of chapter one, there's a cosmic bet and a family left devastated. From there, things get worse! Before chapter two ends, three of Job's friends show up. They'll spend the following twenty-two chapters expressing their ignorance of God and assumptions about their friend. But before they insert a single foot into their collective mouths, they do the smartest thing they could have ever done. Job 2:13 says of those three friends, "They sat with Job on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great." Having spent time sitting with the suffering, mourning with those shaken by loss, and keeping company with those numb from the news of diagnoses, one of the most important lessons I've learned is the one in which Job's friends should have persisted: You don't need to say anything; you only need to be there. That's what our friends who are hurting need more than any words of wisdom we can spout or silver lining we can find in their pain. They simply need someone to show up. There is great peace in realizing that, without saying a word, we can bring the presence of God into their need by just showing up. In this message we go to Psalm 122, accompany King David to worship, and find encouragement from Drew Dyck's new book, "Just Show Up."
Click here for the entire sermon series "What Child Is This?" https://soundcloud.com/bretnet/sets/what-child-is-this-christmas?si=dfc8a9abb2374a899fc42017210d5ec6&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
Of all the names listed in Jesus’ genealogy, there is one that isn’t named. Matthew only identifies her by her failure. He says, “she who had been the wife of Uriah,” but we know he means Bathsheba. There’s a message for everyone who has ever been identified by their failure; everyone who has ever been uninvited to a Christmas dinner; everyone who has longed for a second chance and a new identity. The entire series, "Awkward Family Christmas" can be found at this link:https://soundcloud.com/bretnet/sets/awkward-family-christmas
Luke doesn't begin his Christmas story with Mary, Joseph, and the manger in Bethlehem. He begins a whole year earlier in the temple in Jerusalem and an elderly couple caught between a dying hope and a living prayer. Click here for the whole sermon series: https://soundcloud.com/bretnet/sets/unpacking-christmas. https://brethammond.com
In this sermon podcast, we revisit a Christmas message I presented at the end of 2020. With so much turmoil in our world and our lives, all we wanted was for God to show up. https://brethammond.com
The command in 1 Thessalonians 5:18 is, “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” Let’s be honest and admit that’s not always easy. Some circumstances are so difficult we may never find our way to thanksgiving. This is not a reason to beat ourselves up or condemn ourselves for our rebellion against a biblical mandate. Instead, it’s an opportunity to open our eyes and see that thanksgiving isn’t something that just happens in ourselves; thanksgiving happens in community with others. https://www.brethammond.com/2019/11/thanksgiving-at-the-end-of-the-world/
I think about all the lessons I’ve heard from the book of Jonah over my life. There have been lessons about obedience, faithfulness, and love for neighbors and enemies. But I don’t think I ever heard a lesson about thanksgiving. That is, until now. It’s right there in the heart of the story and in the belly of the great fish! Jonah cries out to God, “I with the voice of thanksgiving will sacrifice to you; what I have vowed I will pay. Salvation belongs to the Lord!” (Jonah 2:9). And if Jonah can give thanks in his very dark place, maybe we can give thanks even when the darkness seems to consume us. Thanksgiving from the Pit - Jonah 2:2 https://www.brethammond.com/2019/11/thanksgiving-from-the-pit/
Thanksgiving is more than just a holiday. It’s the mindset God calls us to have. In fact, he commands it! In 1 Thessalonians 5:18, we’re called to “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” God commands us to give thanks! But how do we do that? How do we obey a command that goes beyond the circumstances we might find ourselves in? I believe God’s call to give thanks calls us to look beyond ourselves and into his purpose for our lives. In viewing it that way, thanksgiving is less about the moment (or the holiday) and more about the way we prepare ourselves for whatever circumstances might come at us. https://www.brethammond.com/2019/11/a-tank-full-of-thankful/
I have a beautiful needlepoint of the Fruit of the Spirit that was given to me as a gift. It hangs on the wall in my office as a reminder of the wonderful lady who gave it to me and the character I aspire to as a Christian. The front is flawless, but—even though I’ve never seen the back—I know it is a mass of tangled threads and looks nothing at all like the carefully crafted handiwork on the front. There is something of that reality in my final message on the Stranger Things from the Bible. We easily recognize the beauty of the Christmas season. The lights, colors, music, and temperatures make the approach and celebration of the holiday apparent to us. But a dragon seeking to devour a newborn? This is a tangled, messy image from an upside-down reality that is foreign to us and sounds more fitting for Game of Thrones than A Charlie Brown Christmas. https://www.brethammond.com/2019/11/the-lady-and-the-dragon/
Being a Jewish Itinerant Exorcist was big money. It was something akin to “Uber for Demons,” or maybe “Demon Dash” instead of “Door Dash.” You see, if you had a demon problem, you would either have to head to the temple in Jerusalem, which was a long trip and a huge hassle; or you could take the problem to the local synagogue, which could be embarrassing. What could be done about a pesky demonic infestation? There’s got to be an easier way! And so, there were semi-professional exorcists who could be called on to take care of the problem. They knew a few prayers and incantations and would do their best to remove your demon (or the next one’s free). Such were the seven sons of a high priest named Sceva. And as the story in Acts 19 shows, they weren’t very good at their job. Read more about this message in my blog post here:https://www.brethammond.com/2019/10/the-seven-sons-of-sceva/
My third message from the Stranger Things from the Bible is the bizarre story of the transformation and humiliation of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar looks upon the greatness of his nation and basks in his own glory. Maybe it’s the influence of The Wolf Man, but I always imagine this story happening on a moonlit night. Soon, he transforms into a cursed beast and flees from his home. Read the blog post that accompanies this sermon by clicking here:https://www.brethammond.com/2019/10/stranger-things-from-the-bible-nebuchadnezzars-humiliation/
The second story in our journey through the Stranger Things from the Bible takes us to 2 Kings and the wicked city of Bethel. It’s here that newly appointed prophet, Elisha, is verbally assaulted by youths and responds with a curse. God hears his “prayer” and promptly responds by sending two bears out of the woods to maul them. Disturbing story? You bet! Stranger thing from the Bible? Of course! But it’s a lot of fun to preach! This is one of those texts a lot of preachers don't touch. Aside from being a strange story, it's one that needs a lot of care, explanation and research. For a deeper dive on this text, check out my blog article here: https://www.brethammond.com/2019/10/stranger-things-from-the-bible-elisha-and-the-bears/
Our Bibles are not the clean, happy books we think they are. They’re full of scary stuff. Yes, there’s faith, hope, and love in those pages; but look hard enough and you’ll find witches, ghosts, dragons and things that go bump in the night. The Bible is full of strange things . . . and even stranger things. In 2016, I spent October, a month we normally look for ghosts and goblins, digging into some often ignored passages. I titled the series Stranger Things from the Bible after the Netflix series that drew us into the Upside Down. There’s much in the Bible that might also seem upside down. The Stranger Things series, set in the fictional small-town of Hawkins, Indiana. Hawkins doesn’t feel all that far removed from our own small-town in Illinois. I felt the similarities and the callbacks to the heydays of the 1980s would go over well with our crowd. I also hoped that the strangeness of the stories would disarm my hearers and allow the punch of the message to surprise them. And it helps that I love these weird Bible stories! These stories might make us uncomfortable, but that doesn’t mean they should be ignored. “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16), right? The Bible’s stranger things deserve our attention. We can gain much from these stories. https://www.brethammond.com/2019/10/stranger-things-from-the-bible-saul-and-the-witch-of-en-dor/
I'm sure my count is off, but by my records, I've now preached something north of 1,500 sermons. The vast majority of those were written for the Kansas Christian Church, a church that challenged and encouraged a young man to preach again and again. I was in junior high when the youth minister recruited three of us to help him preach a sermon one Sunday morning. I read my portion as fast as possible, knowing that the sooner I got done, the better for me and everyone else. Then, as a freshman in Bible College, I was asked to come home to preach for a Youth Sunday. The night before, I tossed and turned and preached the sermon repeatedly in my head. That Sunday morning, the sermon took all of seven minutes, and I swore I'd never preach again! Before we get to the messy goodbyes today, I can't help but commend Kansas Christian Church. Serving my home church for over two decades has been an honor, but our bond goes back further than that. We would be hard-pressed to name every soul who put us on this course together. We could point to lessons learned in VBS fifty years ago, relationships built through youth groups, and families who brought an extra plate so the kid who came to church alone would have a place to sit during potlucks. We would point to those who thanked a nervous young preacher at the door thirty-eight years ago and assured him he did a fine job and they'd listen to him again. And, from eternity's perspective, we would see the prayers of faithful saints who believed God could do more with a young man's life than he ever thought possible. And I know God continues to answer those kind of prayers. In this, my final sermon at Kansas Christian Church, we'll pray a prayer we've been praying together for at least twenty-one years. I'm eager to share a message and a prayer with you.
A man once told me I was taking communion wrong. "It has to be one loaf," he said. "If it isn't, you're sinning." I countered by asking him, "What if it's a really big church? How do you make one loaf that serves a thousand in worship?" He explained to me that was why there shouldn't be any big churches. "A church should never be bigger than one loaf can serve," he said confidently. I realized that's nowhere in the Bible! I also wondered if he had ever seen that episode of I Love Lucy where she bakes her own bread (if you know, you know). In my years of faith, I've had communion with one loaf and multiple loaves. I've had unleavened bread, homemade bread, crackers, and croutons. I've had grape juice, wine, blackberry juice, and, one difficult Sunday, a glass of water. I've placed cracker crumbs on the tongues of the dying and given them a single drop of juice off the tip of my finger, reminding them of Jesus' presence and the nearness of his promise for them. "His body and His blood. Christ be with you." I've come to believe there is only one essential element to the Lord's Supper, and it's not found in what's served on the table but who is encountered at the table. Oh, and sometimes there isn't even a table! This message has been brewing in me for over thirteen years. In this passage, we meet Jesus at the table, and I'll tell you about another table where "a woman of the city" encountered Jesus. I'll also tell you about the long night when I learned a new communion song.
How far away is heaven? There are days when it feels very close, aren't there? I've often returned to the words of the preacher Arthur John Gossip. He was about my age when his wife suddenly and tragically died. The following Sunday, he was in the pulpit, preaching a sermon he titled, "But When Life Tumbles In, What Then?" Given the freshness of his grief, he spoke words I've only begun to feel with my limited pain and perspective: When we are young, heaven is a vague and nebulous, and shadowy place. But as our friends gather there, more and more, it gains body and vividness and homeliness. And when our dearest have passed yonder, how real and evident it grows, and near it is, how often we steal yonder. I confess I didn't preach much about heaven when I was younger; it didn't seem important. But, over the years, as more and more friends have taken up residence in that "happy land, far, far, away," it's become a vital topic, and heaven has felt much closer. Wouldn't it be something if we could "steal yonder" and see what those who have gone on before us see? We would be amazed at how near heaven truly is. Today at Kansas Christian Church, we'll do our best to "steal yonder" with John as he tours the throne room of God in Revelation 4. We will see both the strange and familiar on the other side of the sea.
I awoke yesterday morning to the news that Jimmy Buffett had died. I've long enjoyed his music, but more than that, I've always been struck by his ability to build community. There is no particular type of Jimmy Buffett fan ("Parrotheads," as they like to be known). Instead, you find people from every stripe of life: doctors, lawyers, truck drivers, motorcycle riders, preachers, and young and old alike! I certainly can't justify all of Buffett's songs, but I maintain that there is something sacred about community. I can't help but consider the crowd at a Buffett concert and hear something akin to Acts 2, "Are these not Parthians and Medes and Elamites" . . . "and hippies and professionals and grandparents and grandchildren? We hear them all singing 'Cheeseburger in Paradise!'" Early in Jesus' ministry, we find him already building community. Mark 2:2 tells us that, as he preached in a home in Capernaum, "many gathered together, so that there was no more room, not even at the door." I've seen concert crowds packed in like that! Rather than be dissuaded by such a crowd, four desperate men chose to get creative to find a way to get their friend to Jesus. Getting people to Jesus still takes some creativity on our part. In this message, we'll hear the story of these friends and how Jesus had a greater blessing in store for them than they could imagine. He still has unimaginable blessings for us!
My ears perked up yesterday as I heard the unfamiliar phrase "Post-Traumatic Growth." "That's not right," I thought. "They mean 'Post-Traumatic STRESS,' right?" Our painful and traumatic experiences leave us overwhelmed and weakened, living with the stresses we'll carry for the rest of our lives. That's all I've ever heard about, anyway. But no—there is the possibility for greater blessings ahead! While we often focus on the pain and stress from trauma, the growth potential is even more significant than the potential for stress. Trauma specialist and counselor Kobe Campbell has found that on the other side of healing from trauma, one can find a life of personal strength, closer relationships, a greater appreciation for life, new possibilities, and spiritual development. Psalm 13 is a testimony to the possibility of post-traumatic growth. It begins as a lament, crying out to God over the disappointment and unfairness of life. But it ends in a place of love, salvation, and grace. In the middle, David decided to trust God, the same choice we can make.
You've probably heard the old joke before. "How do you know when a politician is lying?" The answer is, "His lips are moving." Psalm 12 seems to be written to point fingers at political figures. Verse 3 speaks of "flattering lips" and "tongues that make great boasts." In verse 4, they stand defiant to God's judgment, saying, "With our tongue we will prevail, our lips are with us; who is master over us?" Lips are definitely moving here! But, a closer look at verse 2 reveals the psalm is not addressing your least favorite politician. That verse declares, "EVERYONE utters lies to his neighbor." The key word is "everyone." Psalm 12 is our own indictment; our character has been compromised, and our neighbors—the ones we're commanded to love as we love ourselves—suffer. Is there any hope for them? For us?
Paradise is burning. The news and images of the wildfires on Maui have been heartbreaking. This morning's news brought the death toll up to 93. A place renowned for its peace and beauty is experiencing loss and fear that I cannot begin to comprehend. Let's all pray for Maui. It was startling to read how, as the fires overtook the community of Lahaina, around one hundred people sought refuge in the ocean to escape the fires and smoke, requiring their rescue by the Coast Guard. Refuge is often found in the most desperate places. In Psalm 11:1, David declares, "In the Lord I take refuge." He found peace and safety in the presence of God while his world was burning. But even from his place of refuge, voices were taunting him to abandon the safety he found in God. Those same voices still taunt us to abandon our faith and return to the chaos of the fire and flood around us. In Psalm 11, we'll find our refuge in the strength of God's presence, just as David did. In this message, Brenda Buell will share a story about a friend who found refuge in the Lord during a moment of fear. After worship, stick around for food, fellowship, and a visit with Brenda.
My son Connor loves music, and he's got some great taste in the songs he plays on his iPad. The only problem is he stops songs before they're over. "Click!" They're done when he's done! Sometimes he moves on to the next one; other times, he starts the song over again, never letting it finish. This drives Daddy nuts (no worries, it's a short trip). I need a song to resolve, come to its conclusion, and wrap up as the artist intended. DJ Connor has no such need, though. He could listen to the scales on a piano, "Doe, Ray, Me, Fa, So, La, Tea ..." and be perfectly happy leaving it hanging. "DOE, Connor! It has to end with DOE!!!!" Connor would love Psalm 9. It's notorious for not having an ending. It just stops! Even worse, the questions that inspired David to write this song just hang there. "Why is there no justice in the world?" "Why does evil seem to thrive?" "Where is God while his people are hurting?" David asks his questions, but no answer comes back in return. Well, at least not in Psalm 9, anyway. In this message, we'll go to Psalm 9 and hear the questions we've all asked of God. We'll let David lead us to the one who doesn't always offer answers but always offers himself.
The image on the thumbnail of this message is the result of focusing a telescope for over twelve hours on an area of space no bigger than a grain of sand held at arm’s length. This “deep field image” revealed that even the blackness of space is filled with creation. Those stars aren’t stars—they’re galaxies! The warps and swirls are caused by intense gravitational forces so strong they are actually bending light. The whole image is a peek into the distant past. The light you’re seeing is an astonishing 4.6 BILLION years old! That image is from the James Webb Space Telescope, which allows us to peer deeper into those heavens than ever before. I find myself humbled and overwhelmed with the thought that, though these beautiful images have been present in the skies since long before recorded history, you and I are privileged to be the first generation to see them. I can’t help but find my soul drawn to Psalm 8:1, “Oh LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens.” And, because I’m from Kansas, Illinois, when I see the James Webb Space Telescope images, I can’t help but think of our dear friend of the same name—better known to us as Jim Webb. While the mirrors of the space telescope reflect the lights of the sky, Jim had a beautiful way of reflecting the light of Jesus. In his humility and compassionate spirit, Jim demonstrated the love of God for everyone he encountered. I think about his character, and I cannot help but find my soul drawn to Psalm 8:3-4, “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” I share King David’s awe as I realize we don’t find the culmination of God’s creation in the wonders of the heavens but in the wonder of humanity that bears his image. I need a James Webb Space Telescope to show me the expanse of God’s creation. I need a Jim Webb to show me the expanse of His love.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never harm me." We learned that one on the playground, and we learned it isn't true. Even the Bible declares it false! Proverbs 12:18 warns, "Thoughtless words can wound as deeply as any sword." Ephesians 4:31 instructs, "Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice." Words hurt. We've all been on the receiving end of careless words that have cut us, and for too many of us, the words weren't careless; they were carefully calculated to wound us deeply. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can break my heart. David wrote Psalm 7 in response to wounding words. In verse 2, he laments that these words have torn his soul apart, "rending it in pieces, with none to deliver." Rather than stew about them or wonder how he could say something back equally as cutting, David turns it over to God and pours out his hurt in the Psalm. I don't think we can hear Psalm 7 without hearing something of the wounds we've received, perhaps even the wounds we've inflicted on each other. But we also hear the promise of the righteous God who knows our wounds as deeply as we do.
Did you celebrate the great American holiday last week? I'm speaking of Prime Day, of course. I managed to snag a few deals through Amazon; a gift for my daughter's birthday, some shirts for Connor, and a replacement for a recently broken kitchen gadget (that I promise I won't break again). The deals were too good to pass up. Then I went to my order page to see how soon they would ship and found myself asking, "How Long?!?!" Apologies to Erik, our awesome UPS guy, but what's the holdup, buddy?!?! 😉 My impatience can get the best of me at times. It's alright when I'm waiting on a delivery. It's much worse when I'm waiting on deliverance—that is, God's rescue from difficult circumstances or heartbreak. In those moments, the question, "How long?" takes on a much different tone. How long until I'm healed? How long until I come out of this funk of depression? How long will it take for life to feel normal again? Maybe you've found yourself asking that kind of "How long?" question. That's where David finds himself in Psalm 6. In verse 3, he cries out with his question. "My soul also is greatly troubled. But you, O Lord—how long?" I wish I could tell you Psalm 6 provides an answer to the question, but it doesn't. What we do find in the Psalm is company; you're not the only one who has asked that question while scraping and trying to hold on. You're not alone. That realization itself can be the start of the answer we cry out for.
I've heard there are two kinds of people in the world. Some wake up and say, "Good morning, Lord!" And then some wake up and say, "Good Lord, it's morning!" I know which kind I am. Which kind are you? It might surprise you that King David appears to have occasionally been with us in the latter option. Psalm 5, a morning prayer penned by David, begins with the words, "Give ear to my words, O Lord; consider my groanings." If you begin your day with groanings, you're in good company with at least one man after God's own heart! But David knew he had a choice. He could give in to his groaning and fill his day with bitterness or align his heart with the Lord and find blessings. Of course, we're faced with the same choices this morning and every morning. In this message, we join David in his morning prayer and find the source of blessings that he found.
Did you say your prayers before bed last night? In "A Light in the Attic," Shel Silverstein offers his own skewed view on bedtime prayers, offering one that is honest, hilarious, and a little demented (as only Silverstein can do): Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my toys will break. So none of the other kids can use 'em….Amen. I'm amused at the candid selfishness in Silverstein's prayer. It feels a little too familiar. "If I can't have fun, no one should have fun!" In Psalm 4, David offers a more redemptive approach to bedtime prayers, calling us to ponder our anger, place our trust in God, and find the peace for sleep that only God can supply. Psalm 4 offers solace and strength as the evening sun dips below the horizon. "Now I lay me down to sleep" becomes "In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety" (verse 8). God neither breaks our toys nor our hearts. He meets our anxiety with his presence.
I attended a small concert Thursday evening to hear my favorite band, Dawes. Just about everyone there was a longtime fan, like myself. We all knew their songs well and anticipated that they would play our favorites. Three songs into their set, a very familiar guitar riff started. The entire audience was instantly on their feet. I, for one, let out a "WOOOOO!" (I confess, I'm one of those people who yells "WOOOOO!" at concerts). When the band hit the chorus, every last one of us sang along, fists pumping in the air. It was our fight song. This was a diverse crowd—young and old (I'm pleased to say I was NOT the oldest person at this concert), different races, identities, challenges, and sensitivities (one man was practically in tears when I told him how much Connor loves the band). To an outsider, we appeared to be a random collection of strangers. Still, when our song played, we were one, shouting out the chorus together. That's what the Psalms do for us; they unite us in songs that speak to our joys, sorrows, hurts, and hopes. Sometimes they even give us a fight song. Today we turn to Psalm 3, the first psalm with a complaint (but not the last). David's foes have him running, and their number seems to be growing. Where can he turn for the deliverance he needs from his enemies? David needs a fight song. Thankfully he finds one and shares it with us!
