When Jesus Edits Your Story!

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”  Luke 24:30–32

When I accepted Jesus Christ into my life as my Lord and Savior, I was 10 years old. It was 1965 at summer camp in the Cascade mountains. In 1973 when I was 17 years old, I received the vision of building a church which was a great caring network while I was in the Wallowa Mountains.

Ever since that time God has been editing my script with his faithful presence in my life. He was walking with me even when I didn’t know he was there. I was so amazed at how he showed up through professors, pastors, noble friends, and precious family. It makes me cry to think about it now. And it makes me laugh a loud boisterous chuckle. Because it was fun and so very exciting. It was quite a party as the Texas Rangers said in Lonesome Dove.

The Road to Emmaus—and the Edit We All Need

In our text, two disciples were walking away from Jerusalem with heavy hearts. Their story felt like a tragedy. Jesus had been crucified. Their dreams were dashed. Their script seemed to have ended with death. But then Jesus walked with them—incognito at first. He explained the Scriptures, and their hearts burned within them. And when He broke the bread, suddenly they realized: This story isn’t over.

That’s what happens when Jesus edits your story. What looked like failure becomes hope. What felt like an ending becomes a beginning.

Now, let me lighten this up with a story: (because Jesus edits with joy, too)

A man went to the doctor and said, “Doc, every time I eat donuts, I feel terrible. What should I do?”

The doctor replied, “Well, the first thing you should do is… stop buying donuts!”

Sometimes the edits Jesus makes are just that simple. He doesn’t rewrite the whole book—He just crosses out the bad habits that are killing us and inserts something life-giving.

The writer G.K. Chesterton once said:

“I had always felt life first as a story: and if there is a story there is a Story-Teller.”

That’s what Emmaus reminds us. Our lives are not random. Jesus is the Storyteller, and when He edits, it’s always for glory, for joy, and for our eternal good. So here’s the question: Have you given Jesus the pen? Or are you still trying to write the story all by yourself?

This Sunday, Pastor Mark has a great sermon on this very text and subject of Jesus editing our lives. We are all going to be proud of his gospel presentation. Don’t miss it at 10:30 AM.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Jesus – The Smartest Guy in the Room

Recently I’ve been experimenting with new ways of opening up my communications with Jesus. For years I have sung the words of a favorite hymn: “He walks with me, and He talks with me and He tells me I am His own. The joy we share as we tarry there, none other has every known.” It recently came to my attention that I’m singing the words but not experiencing them. I realized that for the most part, “I walk with Him, and I talk to Him.” 

About 10 months ago I was on a spiritual renewal retreat and at this retreat we had a day that we spent in silence and prayer. I was excited and a bit nervous about taking 24 hours of private, quiet time with my Savior. We were given some guidelines, and I remember sitting on the bed in my little private room and I started to write down all the things Jesus and I were going to accomplish in those 24 hours. I started telling Him my plan, and there was a voice in my head that very gently said, “Linda, do you want to hear what I think you should do?” It took me a few minutes to gather my thoughts. I remember thinking, “Yes, Lord, your servant is listening.” He gently planted two questions in my brain, totally not on my agenda. For 24 hours together we explored those questions. “The joy we shared as we tarried there was a joy I had never known.”

After the 24 hours, our group gathered to share with one another what we learned from our experience. My lesson I learned was, “Jesus is the smartest guy in the Universe, I need to start listening more and talking less.”

Sunday, we will be exploring one of Jesus’ parables. This parable in Luke 20:9-19 reminds us that Jesus is the guy we need to be listening to. After all, no matter where you are or who you are with, “He is the smartest guy in the room.”  Hope you are able to join us.

So What Are You Going to Do With It?”

“Well done, good servant! Because you have been faithful in a very little, you shall have authority over ten cities.” —Luke 19:17

A man prayed every day: “Lord, please let me win the lottery.”

Years passed. Every day: “Lord, I’m faithful. I tithe. I volunteer. Please—just one win!”

Finally, the heavens opened, and a voice thundered:

“Meet Me halfway—buy a ticket.”

It’s funny because it’s true. We want God to do something big, but we don’t always want to risk something small. We cling to what we have, waiting for a miracle, when God is waiting for movement.

In Luke 19, Jesus tells a parable just before entering Jerusalem. A nobleman gives ten servants one mina each (a few months’ wages) and says, “Do business until I return.” When he comes back—now crowned king—he finds that one servant turned his single mina into ten. Another made five. But one didn’t even try. He wrapped his mina in a napkin and hid it. That servant didn’t fail because he lost something—he failed because he was afraid to try.

This parable isn’t about ROI. It’s about responsibility. It’s not about fear. It’s about faithfulness. WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN GIVEN? Maybe it’s a voice. A platform. A testimony. A skill. A scar. A relationship. A second chance. Jesus isn’t asking you to be a hero—just to be faithful. To do something with what you’ve got. Even if it’s one small mina.

QUOTE TO REMEMBER:

*“God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into the nest.”*

—J.G. Holland

At the end of the parable, the Master doesn’t say, “Well said” or “Well planned.” He says: “Well done.”  So don’t bury it. Don’t hoard it. Don’t wait for perfect conditions. Buy the ticket. Use the gift. Multiply the mina. Because when He comes back, He’s not grading potential. He’s looking for faith in motion.

Pastor Mark has been on a roll with great sermons this summer so don't miss this Sunday at 10:30 am.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Watch Out for the Kids!

Watch Out for the Kids; In Fact, Let’s All Become Just Like Them!

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”  Luke 18:16

STEAM Camp this year was a circus of joy. We focused on Dive Deep the science of the ocean. We had the whole building decorated like a giant Aquarium; we had an oceanographer there who did scuba diving in the waterfall. Science, Technology, Engineering, Art and Math. And the Bible. We all had a blast with so many different classes and play times, Bible Stories, music, and much much more.

Kids were bouncing off the walls, counselors were half-sprinting with name tags flying, and the parents—God bless them—looked like they were either about to cry or apply for sainthood.

But when those children came through the doors and saw last year’s counselors? They lit up like Christmas morning. They hugged each other like long-lost siblings. No shyness, no filters, no judgment. Just joy. Raw and loud and honest.

It made me think of Jesus. Not Jesus the stained-glass statue, solemn and glowing. Jesus the Real. The one who invited chaos. The one who welcomed sticky fingers and muddy sandals. The one who got rebuked by his own disciples because He didn’t have the “good sense” to keep the kids quiet.

I wonder if Jesus was hyperactive Himself. Maybe He couldn’t sit still at synagogue. Maybe He cracked jokes at the wrong time. Maybe He was always stirring things up, like a divine blender with the lid off. Because when He was around, there was movement. There was fun. There was hope. And yes—probably a little mess.

And He said: “To such belongs the Kingdom of God.”

Which means friends, that heaven might look more like Chuck E. Cheese than a cathedral. It might sound more like kids laughing than choirs chanting. It might feel more like Steam Camp than a solemn ceremony.

So yeah bring your Tylenol. The Kingdom isn’t built for quiet. It’s built for kids. And the kid-hearted.

“To be a child is to live with eyes wide open, heart unlocked, and arms ready to hug.”

– Dr. Dale Caleb White

Today’s Joke: Why don’t kids worry about heaven?

Because they already think slides and pizza are eternal.

Your Takeaway: Let the children come. Let their mess, their wonder, their noise come too. And let your own inner child rise—Because if you can’t receive the Kingdom like a kid, you’ll miss the party.

Join us this Sunday, Pastor Mark will be preaching on this passage, and the kids will be singing at 10:30 am.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Don't Look Away

Lord, who may dwell in your sacred tent? Who may live on your holy mountain? — Psalm 15:1

I believe Eliot Stone is a gift to Washington Cathedral. With a name fit for a rock star, he brings a thoughtful, youthful perspective to everything he touches. And here’s the great news—this fun, former rock-and-roll drummer is preaching this Sunday on one of the most majestic passages in the Bible: Psalm 15.

His message is entitled “Don’t Look Away!” It’s a call to courage, honesty, and faith.

Now, if you didn’t already know Eliot, you might imagine a long-haired, bearded artist hanging out at some avant-garde joint like Laughs Comedy Club in the U-District. And sure—he’d fit in. But to us, he’s the heavenly-voiced guitarist who leads us in authentic, soul-stirring worship week after week. His heart is anchored in Jesus, and his words ring with grace and depth.

“Don’t Look Away” is the perfect title for a message rooted in Psalm 15.

This ancient song of David is what scholars call a “spiritual entrance psalm”—likely used in the time of King David by worshipers as they approached the tabernacle (which would later become the Temple). In just five verses, it gives us a clear and powerful vision for living in God’s presence.

Psalm 15 speaks to three deep truths that couldn’t be more relevant today:

1. Wholeness (Holiness) in daily life

2. Authenticity in our walk with God

3. Living with the presence of God in every moment

It doesn’t shy away from tough issues—justice, integrity, truth-telling. In fact, many Christian teachers see Psalm 15 as an Old Testament companion to Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. It’s a spiritual mirror that challenges us: Are we living the kind of life that brings God close?

And that’s what Pastor Eliot will invite us into—a fresh, honest approach to faith. He’ll challenge us to not look away from the world God has placed us in. To not ignore pain, injustice, or truth. But to stay present, to live no lies, and to let our worship overflow into real life.

So don’t miss it this Sunday at 10:30 AM.

Come ready to be refreshed, inspired, and grounded in God’s presence.

 Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Why Some Hearts Just Cannot Give Up On Prayer

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you.” — Luke 11:9

Jesus had just finished teaching the Lord’s Prayer when He told a story about a man who knocks on his neighbor’s door at midnight, urgently asking for bread. The neighbor is hesitant—but the man’s persistence, his shameless audacity, eventually gets results.

Then Jesus pivots to a striking invitation: “Ask… seek… knock…” These are not gentle suggestions; they are bold imperatives. In Luke 11:9, Jesus uses the present tense, active voice, and imperative mood. In other words, these are not one-time actions but ongoing commands. The grammar itself teaches us: Keep on asking. Keep on seeking. Keep on knocking. Prayer, Jesus insists, must be relentless, alive, and hopeful. God doesn’t need to be persuaded, but we need to be transformed in the process of praying.

Why? Because prayer is not about prying blessings from a reluctant God. Jesus makes this clear by comparing flawed human parents to our heavenly Father:

“If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts… how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!” (v. 13)

If even broken parents desire to bless their children, how much more will God—who is perfectly good—give us what we most deeply need, including the gift of His own Spirit?

This passage doesn’t just invite persistence in prayer—it urges it. Not because God is hard of hearing, but because God uses prayer to shape us. The asking forms us. The seeking awakens us. The knocking opens us up to the presence and purposes of God.

When I was 22, I traveled to Jerusalem to study at Jerusalem University College, a historic school perched on Mount Zion, near the Jaffa Gate of the Old City. The grounds were breathtaking—situated near the traditional sites of King David’s Tomb, the Upper Room of the Last Supper, and the place where Peter denied Christ. It remains one of my favorite places for prayer.

While there, I bunked with a group of basketball players from Liberty University. We played intense, competitive games every morning before class—games that sometimes got a little too heated. Eventually, some of the players explained to me that they could no longer associate with me because they believed in something called third-degree separation—a strict theological view that says Christians must not only avoid the world, but also avoid worldly Christians, and even those who associate with worldly Christians. Since I was friends with such people, I was now outside their circle.

But their dean, who roomed with us and played on my team, remained a friend. One day, I asked him why he didn’t follow the rule. Tears filled his eyes as he told me about his son—a standout baseball player at Liberty—who had died of leukemia. During his son’s illness, he had prayed day and night. He had asked, sought, and knocked with all his heart. Though his son was not healed in this life, he and his world were changed forever. He told me he simply couldn’t stop praying for people—not since that season of pain and prayer. Ever since, when God placed someone on his heart, he could never let them go. That’s why he rejected third-degree separation. He had been too transformed by prayer to ever give up on people again.

This Sunday, we have the opportunity not only to learn more about prayer—but also to learn more about the heart of God. And when we do, we won’t come away unchanged. I can’t wait to hear what God will say to us through Pastor Mark Nsimbi this Sunday.

Let’s not miss it.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

Christ's Classroom of Prayer

I have found that on the subject of prayer, it seems to be the more I pray and learn about prayer, the more I realize how much more there is to learn.  I have been praying my entire life.  I can’t even remember the first time I prayed the Lord’s prayer, but it had to be when I was a toddler, because I sat beside my mother every Sunday at Faith Lutheran Church, and I don’t’ think there was ever a Sunday that we did not prayer the Lord’s prayer as a congregation.  I certainly didn’t fully understand what I was praying or why, I just knew that it was an important prayer and God liked it when we prayed it to Him.  It was the prayer you prayed at church.

I think often when something becomes so familiar to you and you have it memorized, it begins to just become a bunch of words that you say without even thinking about what you are really saying.  Don’t get me wrong, I love praying those words.  I love singing the words.  I had a friend sing the Lord’s prayer at my wedding.  But it was like a poem that you recite to make you feel good, rather than a real prayer that you are speaking to your heavenly Father.

Some years ago, Pastor Tim was leading one of our “Day of Prayer” sessions and he had us pray using the Lord’s Prayer as a framework for our prayer. That was the day that the Lord’s Prayer for me took on a whole new meaning.  The disciples had been watching Jesus as he spent time in prayer with the Father.  I suspect they were seeing not only how important that time was for Jesus, but they probably also saw the amazing effect it had on Jesus.  It was most likely what led them to ask, “Lord, teach us to pray.” 

This Sunday I have the opportunity to explore with you the powerful words that Jesus gave us as students of the art of praying.  Now, every day and sometimes several times a day, I am amazed how much I need those words to open up my heart and my soul to my loving Father in heaven.  Jesus is teaching me, and I have so much to learn.

Hope you can join us as we explore together what Jesus has to teach us in His classroom this Sunday.

Blessings,

Pastor Linda Skinner

When God Steps Into View

Have you ever desperately wanted to see God? Not just believe in Him—but see Him? I have. Sometimes I imagine it like Moses at the burning bush: awe falling on you like lightning, the air cracking with holiness. Moses saw the fire, heard the voice—and came down glowing so brightly they made him wear a veil. People couldn’t handle the afterglow.

But in Luke 3, something even more astonishing happens. At the Jordan River, one man—John the Baptist—witnesses something no other human being has ever seen before or since. Heaven doesn’t just whisper. It opens. And God steps into view.

All at once, the Trinity comes into focus:

• The Son rises from the waters—Jesus, flesh and bone, soaked in our humanity

• The Spirit descends gently, visibly, like a dove gliding through sunlight.

• The Father speaks from above with thunderous tenderness: “You are my beloved Son; in you I am well pleased.”

It’s the closest we’ve ever come to seeing God with our eyes open. It was, as theologians later called it, the clearest glimpse of the mystery we call the Trinity—not three gods, but one God in three persons. Hard to grasp? Of course. But necessary. Because if we can’t imagine God loving, sending, dwelling, and delighting—then we’ve seen only a sliver of who He really is.

Jesus shows us what God looks like in skin and sandals. No wonder I’ve heard atheists say, “If God is anything like Jesus—I might believe in Him.”

C.S. Lewis once said, “If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.”

God doesn’t fit in our pockets. But sometimes, like He did at the Jordan, He shows up in a way that we cannot ignore.

I like the story:

A man said, “Pastor, I want to see God. Just one time. Face to face.”

The pastor said, “Well, are you really sure you are ready for such a divine encounter with a personal Epiphany?

The man replied, “Let me pray about it.”

Two minutes later, he peeked one eye open and whispered, “Okay, maybe just a strong feeling and a goosebump.”

This Sunday, I get to preach on this very moment. I’d love to have you join us—either in person or online—as we look at what it means to “see” God now. Not just in the skies, but in the pages of Scripture, in the face of Christ, and maybe even in each other.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White

The Parable of the Persistent Widow

A man once said, “I gave up jogging because it was making the ice in my glass clink too loudly.”

Some of us have the same approach to prayer. We say we want intimacy with God, the kind of life that hears His voice and sees His hand—then we quit too soon because it rattles the ice in our comfort. It stirs us up. It takes too long. And we prefer microwave answers to crockpot wisdom.

But in Luke 18, Jesus tells a story about a woman who didn’t quit. She was a widow. No husband. No lawyer. No leverage. Just a cause, a complaint, and calluses on her knuckles from knocking.

She kept coming to a judge who “neither feared God nor cared what people thought.” In other words, the kind of man who wouldn’t open the door even if the house were on fire—unless it was his own.

And yet… she wore him down. She didn’t charm him, or bribe him, or flatter him. She just kept showing up. Not because she believed in the judge, but because she believed in justice.

Jesus tells us this parable “so that we ought always to pray and not lose heart.” He’s not saying God is like the judge—He’s saying He’s not. God doesn’t delay because He’s cruel, but because He’s crafting something holy in us while we wait.

“Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul…” — Emily Dickinson

Persistent prayer is feathered with hope. It perches in our soul and sings even when the windows are shut, and the winds howl, and no answer has arrived.

The widow’s faith wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t dignified. But it was real. She kept asking not because she was religious—but because she believed something true and refused to let it go.

So, you who are tired…

You who are still praying for the child to come home, the diagnosis to change, the silence to break—

Don’t lose heart.

The door will open.

 Prayer: Lord, help me pray like the widow—without giving up, without dressing up, without letting go. I trust You, even in the silence. Give me the kind of faith that knocks until grace answers. Amen.

Closing Thought: The persistent widow was not a hero because she was strong. She was a saint because she stayed.

Pastor Jonte’s sermon this Sunday is going to be insightful you don’t want to miss it!

Your friend for life,

Pastor Tim

Flipping the Script: Living Out Radical Love

Scripture: Luke 15:1–5

“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’

Then Jesus told them this parable: ‘Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders…’”

There’s a kind of holiness that keeps its robes clean and its hands in its pockets — the kind that crosses the street when it sees trouble limping along the sidewalk. That was the religion of the Pharisees. They drew lines in the sand and dared sinners to cross them. But then came Jesus, wild-eyed with mercy, calling the unworthy to dinner, and kicking over the chalk lines of respectability.

Jesus didn’t just welcome sinners. He ate with them. In the ancient world, sharing a meal wasn’t just about food. It meant friendship. Acceptance. Solidarity. And to the pious onlookers, that was scandal enough to grind their teeth to dust.

So Jesus flipped the script.

He told a story. A shepherd — gritty, wind-chapped, tough as barbed wire — notices one sheep gone missing. He doesn’t sit there counting his losses or figuring percentages. He goes. Through thorns, over hills, across ravines. And when he finds the lost one, he doesn’t scold it. He lifts it. Joyfully. Slings it across his shoulders like a precious burden.

It was the same with the woman and the lost coin, and the father with the prodigal son. Same story, three times: God isn’t waiting for you to grovel your way back. He’s coming for you. With love that hunts. A joy that lifts. A grace that refuses to give up.

The world still hasn’t caught up. We keep drawing lines — between the holy and the broken, the worthy and the shamed. We act like we’ve earned our place at the table, when the truth is, not one of us got here by being good enough. As C.S. Lewis once said, “A cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute.”

I remember when I was a young seminary student, there was this heated debate about something called “second-degree separation.” It meant not only should Christians stay clear of the world, but they should also avoid other Christians who weren’t separate enough from the world.

I saw this play out firsthand when I was heading off to study at the University of Jerusalem. One of my closest friends — a man whose heart was cracked wide open by a brutal divorce — came with me. Some folks who believed in second-degree separation wouldn’t talk to me because I was still talking to him. As if grace had limits. As if mercy had conditions. At the time, I thought, This can’t be what Jesus meant by holiness.

This Sunday, Pastor Mark is leading us in flipping the script. Reclaiming a Jesus-shaped vision of love — the kind that doesn’t flinch at messiness, doesn’t pull away from the hurting, and doesn’t treat people like spiritual contagions.

So come. Bring your bruises, your doubts, your weariness — and maybe a friend or two who’s felt left out of church too long. Jesus has a seat at the table for them. For you. For us all.

And remember: even sheep who wander off still belong to the Shepherd.

Oh, and if you’re worried about being the one lost sheep, just know — you’re in good company. At least you’re not the guy who tried to baptize a cat. That didn’t go well. (Don’t ask. Trust me.)

See you Sunday at 10:30.

Your friend for the rest of my life,

Pastor Tim White