From a young age, I’ve been drawn to American politics and political institutions. That interest eventually lead me to study political science in college and student teach in a high school government classroom. My friends and I host State of the Union watch parties. One of our favorite games to play is to determine who the designated survivor is by checking the President’s cabinet as they enter the House Chamber. And if you think that is the most nerdy thing you will hear me say, it’s not. I am such a political nerd (I claim it with pride) that one of my favorite T.V. channels is C-Span. I have been known, on multiple occasions, to stay up into the wee hours of the morning watching congressional hearings. I will sit through hours of testimony and questioning. One of my all-time favorite political events to watch on C-span is the Iowa caucuses. Pure unfiltered access to the messiness and (I think) beauty of American democracy. You are welcome to my place anytime for a C-Span viewing party! (Today the Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works and the House Committee on Administration is meeting to discuss the role of the Election Assistance Commission). Who else is fired up? I’ll supply the popcorn!  

Knowing my interest in American politics, my dad gifted me a portrait book titled The West Wing and Beyond by Pete Souza. The name may sound familiar. Most notably, Pete served as the Chief Official White House Photographer for the Obama administration. He was also an Official Photographer for President Reagan. Pete has had extraordinary access to significant events and powerful people. What makes this book unique is that it showcases what is happening on the peripheral of these significant events and what is happening on either side of the powerful people it showcases. 

In what other contexts and environments do we focus on the main event, instead of what is happening around it or around us? Probably quite a bit. Like a good illusionist drawing attention away from what is happening behind the scene. What do we miss out on by not paying attention to what is happening on the sidelines? What is happening beyond our central field of vision? Perhaps it is in the peripheral where we will encounter God in new and exciting ways. Perhaps it is in the peripheral where God will lead us to new people to serve or where we may experience God's beauty in a way we have never seen before. 

The Music Ministry at Pinnacle hosts its annual end-of-the-year dinner party at the end of May. It is a way for us to celebrate the season, talk about our accomplishments, and thank one another for the time, commitment and support we give to the church, our community, and ourselves. To the party we invite everyone who shares their gifts, no matter what they are, with Pinnacle’s music and arts. Thus, the party included many current and former members of our Chancel Choir, Sing For Life Chorus, Pinnacle Pealers Handbell Ensemble, ushers and supporters of the Pinnacle Concert Series, Pinnacle’s pastors, program and support staff, as well as Elders, Deacons, and some of the younger participants. The Music Ministry at Pinnacle is a complex network that touches many lives, and it would not work or be successful without a commitment of a great number of volunteers. I am so grateful for each and every one of you! 

We had quite a season, and it’s worthwhile to summarize our accomplishments. 

The Chancel Choir led over 50 worship services last season, multiple Christmas, Holy Week and Easter services, Lenten and Advent Vespers, and performed at our concerts within the Pinnacle Concert Series. The Choir learned and delivered around 65 anthems, including such masterpieces as Requiem by John Rutter, Sanctus from Joseph Haydn’s Nelson Mass, Beautiful Savior by F. M. Christiansen, At the Name of Jesus by R. V. Williams, Laudate Dominum and Ave Verum by W. A. Mozart. We performed compositions by some of the most respected and prominent sacred music composers: Jeffery Ames, André J. Thomas, Heather Sorenson, Tom Trenney, Keith Hampton, Elaine Hagenberg, John Bell, John Rutter, Karen Marrolli, Craig Courtney, Robert Ray, Dan Forrest, Mark Hayes, Howard Helvey, John Ness Beck, Lloyd Larson, among others. Our choir grew by 13 new members in the past season, and we are thrilled to have such a wonderful family of Christians sharing their love of music with the congregation and our community. 

Our Children and Youth Ensembles were led by a great team of professional musicians and educators: Sonja Branch, Samantha Jorgensen, Tommy Strawser and myself. Pinnacle children and youth served musically in many worship services: Children’s Sabbath Sunday on October 16, Steel Drums Ensemble with the Chancel Choir on October 23, Christmas Pageant on December 18, on Christmas Eve, on Feb 12, during Palm Sunday and Easter services, on Children Appreciation Sunday, and Youth Sunday. Most of the music was deliberately some form of collaboration with the adults to create intergenerational experience for all involved. Last summer we had a successful VBS and Youth Music and Mission Trip to California, and this year's VBS and Youth trip to Las Vegas are expected to be wonderful as well!

The Sing For Life Chorus grew exponentially to an average of 40 singers. We have a core group of 30 dedicated singers and are visited weekly by a group of around 10 folks from the Lone Mountain Memory Care. Some of the highlights of this season include delivering two concerts in December and May, and singing with the Princeton Theological Seminary Choir when they visited Pinnacle in January 2023. 

We hosted 20 events within our Pinnacle Concert Series. We welcomed guest choirs: a youth choir from the Peachtree Road United Methodist Church in Atlanta, GA, and Luther College Nordic Choir. We hosted concerts by some of our best local organizations: Arizona Musicfest Orchestra, Phoenix Symphony, and Phoenix Chorale. We delivered Discovering Eastern Europe concert; Phantom of the Organ; Veterans Day Tribute; Celebration of Christmas; MLK concert in collaboration with the Princeton Theological Seminary Choir; Soundscape to Humanity with Scottsdale Community College and Phoenix Children’s Chorus; John Rutter’s Requiem on Good Friday; and Worlds Colliding in collaboration with four of our local community colleges and ASU music departments. We hosted educational organ events in collaboration with the Central Arizona Chapter of the American Guild of Organists: Pedals, Pipes and Pizza, and a workshop for local church musicians with organist Katelyn Emerson. 

Frankly, I could not have done any of that without Pinnacle’s leadership, support of the pastors, program and support staff, and ALL OF YOU! The Music Ministry relies on many staff members and volunteers who help make sure that things run smoothly. From the tedious but vital logistical and administrative details, through countless hours spent on planning, scheduling, organizing and rehearsals, to the final delivery, larger picture and vision for the future, the Music Ministry at Pinnacle engages over 150 people. I could not be more grateful for your support, encouragement, enthusiasm, and the Love of God you share with Pinnacle and channel to our community. Thank you!

For several years I was a season ticketholder for the San Jose Sharks hockey team when I lived in San Jose. I lived about a 10-minute walk from the arena and when you attend games a few nights a week, you tend to notice things along the walk. There’s the man under one of the overpasses who has been there for years playing his trumpet with a few large pet bunnies by his side. He always had grumpy signs directed at those of us who walked by listening to his concert for free. Or the people at every arena trying to sell and buy tickets.

But whenever I went to the games, the person I was most intrigued by and also, frankly, most disturbed by, was a man standing on a stepladder with a small PA system shouting warnings about the afterlife. About eternity. Like the question asked by highway billboards you may have seen along interstates, this man wanted to know if I knew where I was going when I die.

He was there at nearly all of the games, on a street corner diagonal to the arena, shouting through the distorted sound system above the sounds of the swelling crowd. Sometimes people would engage him, but most of the time, frankly, his sound would disappear into the air as the masses passed by.

I never talked to the man, but boy was I curious. I was curious as to why he felt such urgency for the lives of the people passing by. I was curious as to why he was so confident that all of us were in such peril. One time he looked me in the eyes and pointed directly at me and told me that I should get used to eternal damnation. I was curious about him just as I’m curious about who pays for those billboards that say things like “Where are you going, heaven or hell?”

Since I can’t track down the stepladder preacher, I googled the billboards and I was intrigued to learn about an organization that seemed to sponsor the vast majority of these signs. They pride themselves on having about 1,500 billboards throughout the United States at a given time.

I understand their passion – they want people to join them, to follow God, and they have a passion for what they consider to be a path or a requirement for salvation – salvation from something – from some permanent displeasure, from some painful eternity. Confidently, they use fear as a tool to eliminate any sense of doubt so that people will listen, and, because of their actions or words or billboards, be rescued from damnation.

And according to the one organization, it works – or it at least works to get the attention of the interstate drivers. In their most recent annual report they state that in 2021 their call centers heard from more than 108,000 people who dialed in to the toll-free number after seeing signs, like “After you die, you will meet God.” I listened to some clips from phone calls and I listened to some of the marketing videos and even read a few annual reports.

I’ll tell you, though, after doing all of this gathering, and reflecting further on that street corner preacher, I came to a realization that the extreme focus on what happens after death – the focus even on the fears of what will happen – comes out of a place of fear itself, it comes out of a place, and even a sincere space, of anxious fear and it taps into a motivation for immediacy – for a quick fix to something eternal. “Tell me how to ensure eternity” – one of the callers says.

Historically, this is nothing new to Christianity. Throughout the last 2000 years, there have always been voices of our faith that have used fear as a motivation. And the thing is, on many levels this isn’t surprising. It isn’t surprising, because a quick read of scripture often leads us down this path. A quick read of the words of Jesus may have us fearing eternity, and turning to Christ out of fear for what will be if we don’t.

At some point, though, something got lost in translation – literally – when the church started to focus on the afterlife as the source of drawing people into the church. So much of the language of the Gospels is in present tense – the language is a here and now encouragement to be a part of Christ’s eternal realm in the world today. 

What joy it is to know that God wants to partner with you and me in bringing God’s love into the world! Present tense. Right now. No billboard fear or stepladder street preacher needed.

*I have intentionally not provided details about the organization that spends millions of dollars a year on these billboards because I do not think it is helpful to give them more airtime.

The chaos of the school year is coming to an end (though for many, the last week of school seems the most chaotic of them all) and with it many programs throughout the church year also wrap up for the summer. But does that mean the church is closed too? 

Obviously we all know the answer to this – no. We are also open. And yet, I find that many of us lose our weekly rhythm of attending church. You might be asking right now, “What’s the big deal?” Well, it’s not about going to church. It’s about being the church. 

A few years ago I joined a Facebook group which is for people who left their churches. Why would a pastor do that? Well, I’m curious. I want to know why people leave their communities of faith and what I can do better –what we as the church can do better – to care for those in our church family. What I discovered is that many people actually still do believe in God – they’ve just become frustrated with the church or disenchanted with certain aspects of it. (That’s a whole other blog). 

The other interesting thing I discovered is that over and over, people express how much they miss the church community. That there is a very tangible feeling of loss and emptiness after stepping away from their church family. That there’s something different about church community, because they don’t find the same fulfillment in the mom’s groups, sports clubs, or at the gym. 

Here’s the thing about church. We don’t want you to just go to church – we want you to be the church. It’s not just about Sunday worship – it’s the community. When we step away from our Sunday rhythm (or whatever other days you go to church), we also step away from the ‘dance’ we do as a community. The weekly worship, praying for one another, breaking bread together, journeying as disciples together, serving together and growing deeper in our faith….together. The Church is the community of all believers – it’s a living, moving, breathing, body. 

Make a list of what you value about your church community. What do you miss? What would you like to see happen? How do you want to connect to your community? I’m excited for this summer at Pinnacle, because I know we will continue to be the Church. We will continue to worship, serve, live, and eat together. I hope to see you here.

A couple of years ago, a week after I had preached on a Sunday morning, a man introduced himself at the sanctuary door as a second-time visitor. The man said, “I heard you preach last week,” and then asked me with all sincerity, “Have you actually been to seminary?” At that moment, I didn’t want to tell him that, not only had I been to seminary, but that I held a PhD in Homiletics (the art and science of preaching) from a well-known Presbyterian seminary. I just smiled and affirmed that I had indeed been to seminary. “Well, I guess I didn’t really get the point of your sermon,” he added.  I am not really sure how I responded; maybe I said through a pained smile, “Well, I’ll work on that.”

Perceptions of what a sermon is and what a sermon is supposed to achieve are as varied as those who listen to those sermons, and if a sermon does not live up to one’s expectations, then surely it is only fair to ask the preacher, “Have you actually been to seminary?” Well, maybe it’s fair, but no preacher wants to be asked that. If grace were to abound in this situation, then perhaps it’s fairest to ask oneself, “I wonder if the preacher has a different understanding of preaching from my own. Would the preacher be open to a conversation about that?”

It all comes down to expectation. What do we want a sermon to be? Is it a teaching moment? Is it a lesson in morality? Is it an exhortation to live in the straight and narrow? Is a sermon supposed to open with a joke, make three points, and give you a life application? All these questions can be answered in the affirmative and more! 

When family members know that I am preparing a sermon, they inevitably ask, “What’s your sermon about?” And I, after a moment’s pause, usually respond, “The sermon isn’t about anything; the sermon does something.” In asserting this understanding of the sermon, I realize that after many years studying and teaching preaching, I have certain biases, especially that the sermon functions as an event of God’s own self-revelation. The sermon is a happening, one in which the gospel is not only proclaimed, but experienced. I certainly hope that this is what a sermon does: set the stage for the hearer to experience the impact of God’s amazing grace here and now.

Teaching preaching at Princeton Theological Seminary, you would expect me to say that I evaluate a sermon first on its theological merits, then on its logical coherence, and ultimately on its rhetorical mastery. What I actually say is, “I know it’s a good sermon if it makes me cry.” This may appear that I lean toward sentimentality, and perhaps I do. But what I really crave in listening to a sermon is the tangibleness of the gospel, incarnated in human stories of redemption. Tell me of God’s redeeming power shaping ordinary folks for extraordinary lives. I want a sermon to feel alive…and I want to feel more alive after experiencing the sermon.

One point we always tried to make clear in preaching class is that the sermon isn’t what is printed on the page. The sermon is an event that happens in the midst of the worship service. Even though the “same” sermon may be presented at 8 and 10am, they are two different sermon events. It’s the hearers who complete the sermon. Every listener has a slightly different experience of the sermon. Things that are meaningful for one person listening may be received as inconsequential by another, and vice versa. 

Listening to a sermon is as much an art and science as preparing, writing and “performing” a sermon. Simply notice: 1) how the preacher gets us into the sermon; 2) what sustains our attention; 3) what causes us distraction; 4) what feelings come up; 5) what we agree with; 6) what we are moved to think or do in light of experiencing the gospel. Most importantly, we can ask ourselves, “How did the preacher bring to life the claims of scripture, so that I felt claimed by the gospel itself? How am I ‘new creation’ in light of this preaching moment?”

There is a lot more going on in any given sermon event than any one of us can digest at one hearing. John Calvin thought of preaching as almost sacramental - an event in which the Word of God becomes nourishing to us through the Spirit of God’s Son. The preaching event is ultimately an encounter between ourselves and living God. It is personal address. It is also a corporate moment. The whole body is claimed in the gospel, as we, the body, reason together, and commune with the One who was and is and is to come. 

In such an encounter, we are called to “take off our shoes,” for we are standing on holy ground, not because the preacher is holy, but because the Word makes us whole.