Bret Hammond

Jerry Seinfeld once noted that most people's number one fear is public speaking, and number two is death. This means that the average funeral attendee would feel more comfortable being the person in the casket than the person delivering the eulogy. Moses would have preferred the casket. In Exodus 4:10, he cries to God, "Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue." There's something familiar to me in Moses' words. I've heard many people tell God what they can't do, but I've also witnessed what happens when they overcome that fear and serve anyway. I've listened to amazing messages from people who told me they couldn't speak, heard heartfelt prayers from those who told me they couldn't pray out loud, and seen God's grace poured out on those who said "yes" to him. Before we list our limitations to God, let's pause and listen to what he can do through us—all of us. Just as God addressed Moses' concerns before he left the burning bush, he speaks to each of us. If we listen carefully, we can hear his call for us and his promises as well.

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."