Looking Back to Look Forward

Joshua 3, 1-7. Not that, Joshua.

Joshua started early in the morning. They moved on from Achakias and came to

the Jordan, he and all the Israelites, but stopped there before crossing over.

After three days, the officials passed through the camp and commanded the people,

When you see the chest of the covenant of Yahweh your God with the Levitical

priests carrying it, you yourselves are to move on from your places and follow it.

Yet there is to be a distance between you and it, some 2,000 cubits by measure.

Do not go near it, so that you may know the way to go, because you have not

passed this way previously.

Joshua said to the people, Sanctify yourselves, because tomorrow Yahweh will

do wonders in your midst.

Joshua said to the priests, Take up the covenant chest and go through to the front of the people.

So they took up the covenant chest and went to the front of the people.

Yahweh said to Joshua, This day I will begin to make you great in the eyes of

all Israel, so that they may acknowledge that I am with you as I was with Moses.

You yourself are to command the priests carrying the covenant chest.

When you come to the edge of the water of the Jordan, stand in the Jordan.

Joshua said to the Israelites, Come here and listen to the words of Yahweh your God.

Joshua said, By this you will acknowledge that the living God is in your midst,

and that he will totally disposes before you the Canaanites,

the Hittites, the Hivatites, the Perizzites.

Gershites, the Amorites, and the Jebusites.

Now the chest of the covenant of the Lord of all the earth is passing into the Jordan in front of you.

So now get yourselves 12 men from the Israelite clans, one man for each clan.

When the soles of your feet, of the priests carrying the chest of Yahweh,

Lord of all the earth, rest in the water of the Jordan, the water of the Jordan

will break off upstream and stand as a single heap.

So the people moved on from their tents to cross over the Jordan,

with the priests carrying the covenant chest in front of the people.

When the people carrying the chest came to the Jordan, and the feet of the priests

carrying the chest dipped into the edge of the water, the Jordan overflows all

its banks the whole period of harvest.

The water in the Jordan stood upstream. It rose as a single heap,

a great way off at Adam, a near city, a city near Zeranath.

Going down into the Steppe Sea, the Dead Sea, it completely subsided.

So the people crossed over near Jericho. The priests carrying the chest of Yahweh's

covenant stood steady on dry ground in the midst of the Jordan while all Israel

was crossing on dry ground,

until the entire nation had finished crossing over the Jordan.

Joshua 4, 1-24 When the entire nation had finished crossing over the Jordan,

Yahweh said to Joshua, Get yourself twelve men from the people,

one from each clan, and command them.

Carry yourselves twelve stones from here, from the midst of the Jordan,

from the place where the priests' feet stood steady.

Take them across with you and put them at the place where you stay for the night.

So Joshua summoned twelve men, whom he appointed from the Israelites, one man for each clan.

Joshua said to them, Cross over in front of the chest of Yahweh your God,

in the midst of the Jordan, and lift up for yourself each man a stone unto his

shoulder, in accordance with the number of the Israelite clans.

So this may be a sign in your midst when your children ask in the future,

what are these stones to you?

You are to say to them, the Jordan water subsided before Yahweh's covenant chest.

When it passed through the Jordan, the Jordan water subsided.

These stones will be a memorial for the Israelites in perpetuity.

The Israelites did this as Joshua commanded. They carried twelve stones from the midst of the Jordan.

As Yahweh spoke to Joshua in accordance with a number of the Israelite clans,

and took them across with them to the place where they would stay and put them there.

The twelve stones Joshua set up in the midst of the Jordan at the place where

the feet of the priests carrying the covenant chest had stood,

have been there until this day.

The priests carrying the covenant chest were standing in the midst of the Jordan

until everything was finished that Yahweh had commanded Joshua to tell the people

in accordance with everything Moses commanded Joshua.

The people speedily crossed over and when all the people had finished crossing

over, Yahweh's chest and the priests crossed over to the head of the people.

The Reubenites, Gadites, and half clan of Manasseh crossed over organized in

companies in front of the Israelites.

As Moses had told them, some 40,000 men equipped for a campaign crossed over

before Yahweh to the Jericho steps for battle.

That day, Yahweh made Joshua great in the eyes of all Israel.

They revered him as they revered Moses all the days of his life.

Yahweh said to Joshua, command the priests carrying the declaration chest to

come up out of the Jordan.

So Joshua commanded the priests, come up out of the Jordan.

And when the priests carrying Yahweh's covenant chest came up out of the midst

of the Jordan, and the soles of the priests' feet lifted out onto the dry ground,

the Jordan waters returned to their place and went over all their banks as previously.

When the people came up from the Jordan, on the tenth day of the first month,

they camped at Gilgal on the eastern border of Jericho.

Those twelve stones that they had taken from Jordan, Joshua set up at Gilgal.

He said to the Israelites, When your children ask their parents in the future, What are these stones?

Tell your children, On dry land Israel crossed over the Jordan here,

because Yahweh your God dried up the Jordan waters in front of you until you

crossed, as Yahweh your God did the Red Sea,

which he dried up in front of us until we crossed, so that all the peoples of

the earth might acknowledge how powerful is Yahweh's hand so that you might

revere Yahweh, your God,

all your days. Amen.

Yeah, come on. Whew. I remember vividly, this church started a week ago today,

1987, the 7th of November, 9th of November.

But actually, for me, it started the week before because I remember at the church

that we were presently in, the third church my parents had started.

What? Did I get that wrong? Sorry, I thought somebody said something.

This is the third. Well, I remember two in Rome.

Technically, they were part of starting a second one. So in my mind,

because this is my story.

But here we were in Halloween night. Those of us charismatic Christians in the

80s, it was Hallelujah Night.

And there was a big party. And this 11-year-old, almost 12-year-old boy had

the greatest time with his friends, the people that he'd grown up with.

And he'd known all of his life.

As I had moved several times, several schools, a new kid, this group of people

was like my core friends, my people.

And I had the best time. And it was Saturday night, Halloween,

1987. I had the beginnings of a beautiful mullet.

The next Sunday, my parents drove down to the Southern Tier to bring their band

and to speak at a church here for that Sunday.

But I had no idea at that moment, how could I? I was 11 years old,

almost 12, that everything in my life was about to change. Everything.

And of course, the following Sunday was day one of Living Word Christian Center.

38 years ago, on a cold Sunday, November 8th, 1987, God began weaving a new

story in this little town of green New York.

Two people about to start their fourth church, in my memory,

in their pain and their heartbreak, because it was a dark day.

I didn't understand that. I was 11 years old, almost 12.

Two people about to start their fourth church in their pain and heartbreak.

I promise you it didn't look impressive. No one knew what it would become.

But like so many of God's great stories, it began quietly in living rooms,

garages, and hearts open to the leading of the Spirit.

And here we are, 38 years later.

Living Word Church, Living Word Christian Center, is and has been many things.

It's been a place of deep, powerful, scripture-led teaching of all kinds from

Sunday mornings to Wednesdays, Friday nights to Bible schools.

It's been a place of freedom and worship as people all over the world have known

about the exuberance and the worship and the craziness and the spinning and

we've still got one spinner.

It's been known as a place of freedom, of worship, of a moving of the Spirit.

It's been known as a place of rock and roll.

But at its core, it is this. It is a place of stories.

A gathering of lives over the years that God has woven into his large story

of redemption and kingdom purpose in this little town of Green New York.

And today, we give thanks.

We look back not simply in remembrance or to reminisce, but to remember God's faithfulness.

Not to look back and say, oh my gosh, if I could only go back to the glory days,

if we could only have everybody at the front jumping again, I would love that.

But this today is not about reminiscing and crying over our meals about what used to be.

It's a time to remember God's faithfulness so that we can walk forward with courage.

Scripture teaches us that looking back at God's faithfulness is often the very

thing necessary when God was moving people forward.

This story in Joshua is not the least of those. In fact, one of the most prominent

and most important, looking back to look forward.

I promise I won't take long today. We're going to sit. We're going to have a meal.

Though I've heard a rumor that there's not a lot of main courses,

so someone's buying pizza right now.

A lot of desserts, a lot of sides, but that's okay.

Joshua in Joshua 3.4 says, you have not passed this way before.

This event in Israel's history has a continuing story of God's redemptive work.

Because our story, as we are connected to it as God's people,

was a pivotal moment in the story thus far.

Israel stands at the edge of the Jordan River. A generation has gone by since

Moses led them out of slavery, crossed the Sea of Reeds, or the Red Sea,

impassable, surrounded by enemies.

And we know swallowed up God's, or these people's enemies in that sea as they walked on dry ground.

And here Israel stands on the edge of the Jordan River, a new land,

a new leader, a new season, a moment that will define every moment to come.

They'd been at this place or near it once before, not too far from the Jordan

River, more in the plains, as they sent spies ahead to view the land that God had promised them.

But because of their fear, their belief that it was impossible,

even though God had miraculously delivered them, it was too big, it was too much.

And so for that, they wandered for 40 more years in the desert,

but here they are again, this place that they'd been before,

but fear kept them wandering.

And now Moses is gone.

Joshua leads them, and God speaks these words, sanctify yourselves,

where Joshua speaks through.

Joshua, sanctify yourselves, for tomorrow the Lord will do wonders among you.

This was not a religiosity moment. Let's get really religious.

This was not nostalgia. It was not sentimentality.

This was an invitation by God. Sanctify yourselves.

God's about to do something new. I'm about to do something spectacular.

And he calls them in this moment, in this moment of sanctification,

to remember who he has been.

He asks them not to prepare to do something, but to prepare themselves to make

the space for God to do something.

And then God did something extravagant.

As we often see God's demonstration of his extravagance in our transitional

moments, The Jordan River, I think most of us read the story and we imagine

this giant body of water.

But the Jordan River, even at flood season, really resembled more the Jenegaslic

Creek that flows behind my house.

At times it could be big, and at times, and this they say was flood season,

so it would spill over its banks.

But probably even now at its deepest point, it was about 10 feet deep and about

100 feet across. You could see across.

And the waters were probably raging. Thank you.

But it was not impossible. It would have been difficult, hard, yes.

I mean, they could have found a shallower place and they happened to pick,

God leads them to the deepest place, but still even in the deepest place,

they could have moved across it. It would have been hard, yes, maneuvering.

You know, the scriptures tell us 40,000 fighting men, but they were bringing

not just fighting men across, there was two to three million people.

And it's hard to move 20 people anywhere. So yeah, it would have been hard,

would have been inconvenient, definitely, but not impossible.

And yet God chooses the exuberant, miraculous demonstration of his power as

he rolls the water back, just like he did at the Red Sea.

Why? Well, I think, and there's lots of reasons I'm sure people will say,

but I think because God knows that when you're stepping into a new season,

you need more than a plan. You need a reminder.

This very moment was a reminder, a memorial to God's faithfulness.

And here God doesn't say just, it could have been an act of disobedience and

just trust, wade through the waters.

It'll be deep, but you'll get to the other side.

Instead, God says, I don't need you to sacrifice at this moment.

I need you to remember who I am.

So it's a reminder of his presence, of his power, of his history with them.

So he stops the river as the priest carrying the ark stepped in.

All great stories of faith begin with people's faithful trust,

meeting God's faithfulness.

And so as they step in, and he holds back the chaos of the waters.

He makes a dry path forward, not because he had to, but because he wanted his

people to remember, I'm the one who brought you out, and I'm the one who will lead you in.

This is not a story of how I'm Joshua and Pastor Bill was Moses. This is not that story.

This is a moment of remembering. And as this memorial moment,

as God demonstrates his power to remind them of the Red Sea,

they're going into a new place, a new land, a land full of milk and honey,

a land of promise, where it says that they would have vineyards that they didn't

plant, cisterns they didn't dig.

And I know some of you young people are probably reading this and saying,

oh my God, this was just genocide. It was not genocide. This was a different

age and they were driven out. They were disposed of.

There was things going on that we don't have time to talk about today.

God's mercy did what he did and his judgment, but they're about to enter into this land of promise.

And before they could do so, God wanted to remind them that I don't just bring

you to good places. Remember, I'm the one who took you out of the depths of

despair and death and slavery.

Moment itself is a memory, is a memorial. And then with that memorial,

he orders them to have 12 men collect 12 stones from the Jordan,

first to build a monument in the water.

And then as they pass over, as these 12 men, just 12 guys from the tribes go

through this dry land, collecting big stones, and they build a memorial.

12 stones, the gift of a story that they could touch.

And God tells Joshua, take 12 stones from the river.

So then when your children ask, what do these stones mean? You will tell the story.

In other words, the stones were not for decoration.

They were for discipleship. If you want to use modern language, they were for memory.

They were a story that the next generation can point to, could touch and remember.

This is where God led us over. And this is where God reminded us how he took us out.

The name Gilgal means rolled away because this is the place that they are now

camped at as they cross over.

It means rolled away, basically.

And here at this monument, this touchable story, they observed the first Passover,

which is a meal that would become a new ritual rhythm of remembering their story every year.

And God built into the fabric of their rhythmic life, all kinds of parties and

moments to stop and remember, because there's something about remember that

gives us the courage to keep moving forward.

And here, the first Passover.

New ritual where they would tell their story to their children,

remembering what God had rolled away the stain of Egypt, folded their history into his story.

When they would travel back to this spot, as one time mentioned in Joshua,

after a battle, they go back and we hear stories throughout the Old Testament.

Some were bad things happened here and some were important things happened,

but you can imagine that there would be times where they would travel back to

this moment, to this space,

bring their kids who have now been born and they're growing and probably jumping

in and out of the creek or the Jordan River, and they would gather them for

the meal and they would tell them the story.

Every generation needs a story that they can reach back and grab hold of.

And as for living word, we have stones too. We have Jordan River moments too.

Stones built from faithfulness, from faith, stones built from risk,

from sacrifice, from small beginnings,

from two people who started off by saying yes to God, even when they were afraid,

when they were heartbroken and hurt, from families who drove from all over some

hours just to gather, because this place became a monument of the story that

God had already begun in their lives.

From prayers whispered in garages, basements, and library rooms to a miraculous 64-acre property.

From moments that felt ordinary at the time but now looking back were embedded

with God's fingerprints.

These stones, they matter because they teach us something essential.

We didn't get here on our own.

We were carried here by grace. We were carried by God's faithfulness,

we were carried by each other.

As I've looked back at this story the last week from my own eyes,

it's probably different than the story my parents would tell because they were in the thick of it.

They were launching pioneers. Also, again, heartbroken, didn't want to start another church.

They just wanted to leave church life forever and just minister all over the

world because churches are hard and messy.

But for me, the story didn't begin on the Jordan River.

Again, in Rome, New York. Started that week before on Halloween night,

the last hurrah with my church friends.

And began the next Sunday with a van packed with five kids, two parents, and one grandma.

A very complicated grandma.

Driving two hours every Sunday to a tiny meeting in Green.

An 11, almost 12-year-old boy who didn't like the idea of driving two hours,

who didn't want to lose his friends and didn't understand the magnitude until

I got to that room, the small house with one bathroom, as we all would cram

out of this car, this van, sometimes a car, sometimes two cars,

sometimes two cars, one would break down in Sherbourne, in the middle of nowhere, basically.

Cram out, all rushing to the one bathroom.

A 11, almost 12-year-old boy who didn't understand why following God felt like

losing everything. Familiar.

Those first Sundays, they were rough.

A one-car garage with a kerosene heater in November.

Again, one bathroom. Um, no kids my age, no kids except for us,

five, just a bunch of eccentric, need I say weird adults.

This was the charismatic church of the 80s. It was filled with weird,

wild, and wonderful people.

Way too excited about starting a church in a garage. Sometimes we would have

lunch at the house after.

Nothing good for an 11, almost 12-year-old boy.

I can remember one particular time, and there was this cheesecake about it.

I had just discovered cheesecake, and I thought it was pretty awesome.

And the husband of this couple that we traveled to start the church in their

garage, they had been driving to Rome for a while before this,

was praising this cheesecake.

Oh my gosh, wait till you get this cheesecake. And I'm like,

yeah, finally something good.

And this cheesecake tasted like straight butter. And I don't mean that in a

good way. Like, oh, butter.

No, it was like eating a stick of butter. And for years it scarred me, traumatized me.

I couldn't eat cheesecake again until I was finally brave enough to give it a try.

And then I don't even know how long this is my story i was 11

almost 12 i don't know how long we were in

the garage doesn't really matter eventually we

ended up in the basement of a library a little bit better but guess what it

meant we had to drive earlier to set up

chairs and the cheap sound system but

it had a cool staircase out front that in my mind was the perfect spot to take

a picture for my rock band's album cover that i would someday have eventually

we moved to the green market space I know it was soon It wasn't a very long

period of time Because I remember going there To the first room in the marketplace,

Right after Christmas And I had gotten this cool 80's blazer With shoulder pads and everything.

Eventually, we moved to another space with the upper room. The excitement growing all the while.

I remember in the library believing for 20 members. I remember hearing them.

I didn't care. I was 11, almost 12.

At this point, I'm just about 12.

Finally, the Whiting's. And God bless me. There was teenagers there with him, Ron Whiting.

He was 16. I was only 12.

But that was a lot closer in age than to all the other old weirdos.

Moved to the upper room and the excitement, the expectancy, the faith,

even for a child, was undeniable.

We were small, but it felt big.

God was doing something. But

at 12 years old, all I knew was that I'd lost everything familiar again.

As after almost a year, another move.

As we left Rome, where I was finally in the same school two years in a row since

second grade, fifth and sixth grade.

I was finally not the new kid.

I wasn't the best friends. They weren't great examples, but they were the same

friends. They were consistent. And now we move again.

Another new school, my first experience in high school in Guilford.

Bainbridge, Guilford is an It's an interesting place And their high school and

middle school are all crammed together 7th through 12th, I'd never even had

a locker And here I am thrown in with these.

Farmers and rednecks And me, I mean this was the 80s Bullies were real They weren't online,

I had people waiting for me after school Because I was a new kid I won't say

any names from any of the people in this story To save their confidentiality.

In the church and in the school. Another move, another school,

another set of friends gone.

And at that age, pain disguises itself as anger. And I was mad.

I was angry at my parents. I was angry at God.

I remember sitting with a friend and my brother had a baseball game.

I didn't play sports. And my friend, he was sitting with me in my car and I

remember saying, I hate God.

He said, dude, you can't say that. I said, I hate him.

Tried to run away, had a guidance counselor convince me that I could.

I didn't have to stay with these religious parents. I can go back to Rome.

I was angry, angry at the whole call of God thing.

I couldn't see that my parents needed this, that they were in pain and needed

the healing that this place would provide.

I couldn't see that. I was 12 years old at this point. So I acted out.

I pushed boundaries. I made trouble.

I went in the bathroom at this dirty high school with no doors on the stalls

and had my friend pierce my ear.

Never have a 12-year-old friend pierce your ear.

He's like, I can do it. I'm not afraid to do it. I do it all the time.

And he started and he's like, I can't do it. I can't do it.

Halfway through, came home.

My mom said, take it out.

To which I replied, you never let me do anything. I was angry.

I made trouble. I pushed boundaries yet. And hear this living or hurt Christian center.

My parents, this place did not punish me for my anger.

Instead, they embraced me. through it. This church, you see,

in retrospect, I can see how I was kind of turned into a pariah at some of the

old churches because I was a pastor's kid.

I'd be singled out in Sunday school, sometimes because I deserved it.

Other times people would say things to me. I remember going back to visit our

church in Rome and the pastor pulling me aside now, the guy who was now in my

dad's spot telling me, this is not your church anymore.

Because I ran down the stairs. But this church, they loved me.

They carried me. They saw me, held space for me, became my family.

They didn't treat me like the pastor's kid. They treated me like a real kid.

Joan Whiting, George Whiting, my nanny, Manuk, became my first youth leaders.

And they loved me like a real kid, somebody worth patience, worth grace, worth community.

My siblings became my fellow passengers and victims of circumstances beyond

our control, and we became friends.

And eventually, as more people came, God brought not just family,

but real deep friends into my life, into this church.

Steven Menta. I don't know if he's here. He said he was coming.

Is he here? Oh, God, love you. I love you.

This is another weird family came into our church.

Going to their house for dinner. We were homeschooled at this point because

of all of my acting out in seventh grade.

Remember, I was 12. I turned 13, but still, I was just a kid.

Stephen Benta, the Jonathan to my David, or in his eyes, the Jonathan to his David.

Two boys, 14 years old, couldn't be any different, but we became inseparable.

God blessed me with somebody that I would have never hung out with,

yet became the deepest confidant that I'd ever had.

Other friends and older adopted siblings, again, some that I won't name,

people like Dennis Foltz.

He had to be in his early 30s, late 20s. I don't even know. I was 14 years old.

Just wild and crazy and cool, because we had a lot of weirdos.

Dennis was cool. throughout the years people like josh was seen later on my

bandmate steady faithful friend others came and some that have moved on some

left because stories can be complicated,

and full of disappointment and pain some have

come back because the story drew him back and i

believe some were coming back still some were meant to

for a season of the story but then the most important moment of the story is

i couldn't have possibly known as 11 almost 12 year old this is one particular

crazy family came into this church the diva jillies they were crazy but they brought girls.

We had other girls but they brought the girl amy the great diva jilly i can

remember the first time they came and they gave some testimony about dancing

around their car their van i don't

remember the testimony. I just remember thinking, dude, that's so weird.

Remember, she remembers looking at me and saying, who is, who allowed the druggie?

Because I had long hair. The mullet had become, had become more substantial.

Ron remembers.

Ron had hair too. Wasn't quite as voluptuous, but it was cool.

And she said, who let this druggie into this place? And I was holding my little

sister, Nikki, who was born sometime during this history.

I remember somebody said, I think Ron actually said to me, hey,

what do you think about that girl, Amy?

I was like, she's okay. She's pretty, but she's on my type. I'd never go out with her.

And I'm pretty sure she said similar things because she was just,

you know, this very, all of the mothers of the boys in our church,

they all wanted their sons to marry Amy,

including my parents, but they wanted my, I don't mind so long,

so I'm not going to get into the complicated, weird story of it.

And i remember saying that and she said that at one point her sister who was

younger i was one of the only boys there so she might have a crush on me i don't

know and so amy was like well guess what i can make him like me before he likes

you i bet you dan box the worst ten dollars she ever spent,

or the best she became my first

real girlfriend at 15 met her

at 14 the summer of 1991 we were

going out became my fiance here in front

of everybody right there became my

wife in 1995 became the

mother of my children the lally of my grandchildren a

story so connected to this place together all of us in that season together

we jammed together me and steven would play poison in the church sanctuary because

we could only play a few chords every rose has its darn Okay.

We'd write songs, the ah song.

My wife would bring her classical piano playing and I would jam over it.

We jammed together. We wrote songs together. We ran the streets of green.

We discovered together a passion for Christ under our youth leaders, George and Joan.

A passion for the call of God, even in our imperfectness. And as a church during

all this time, we worked together as a community. We gave money we didn't have.

We built this place. We went from one service to two services in this little

room Bought this place over after a complicated journey Of looking for properties built it together,

And built a thriving community of love and faith We danced together at these

altars We had long meetings on sunday morning went home and ate lunch together

usually at my in-law's house Then came back for another round of another long

service all the while so excited to be together,

followed by Denny's with this same guy who looked like Dennis Quaid would feed

his food saying it's almost time to go, guys.

Prayer meetings followed by work nights. We hosted conferences.

We built a thriving youth camp.

We had children here, so many of us, that became part of the story.

Children who fell asleep under the chairs, beloved every minute of being here.

Some who I'm still believing the story is going to bring home.

There were many Jordan moments, and God met us in them all, as we stepped in

the waters of the unknown.

These are just some of my stones.

These are stories that I can touch. There's so many more.

I remember building this place and we built this wall behind us. It's a firewall.

We had to hire masons. Most of it we did ourselves, but me and Steven and Dennis,

we stepped up and we mixed the mortar, wrote a song called Mortar Man.

I remember climbing the scaffolding like a spider because it was so cool.

This is just some of my stones, stories that I can touch.

And I'm one of the fortunate ones who stayed because as I look in this room today.

Story that is still being told. So many new people that have been woven into

my story as we all together weave our stories into God's story.

And I think if we pass the microphone around here today, we're not going to.

The room would fill with stories, some old ones and some new ones,

stories of sacrifice, stories of healing, stories of restoration,

stories of loss, of friendship, of calling, provision,

of lack, but moments when God showed up in ways that didn't make sense at the

time, but make perfect sense now, the stories of living word,

stories that are part of the greater story that God is telling.

Why do our stories matter for our future? Why is it important to look back?

See, Joshua set up the stones at Gilgal, and he says, so that all the people

of the earth may know the hand of the Lord is powerful.

And so that they may always, or so that you may always fear the Lord,

your God. Why is it important?

Why does it matter that this is a place of stories? Number one,

because our stories, our monuments, our stones, they become a witness to the

world. That place is still there.

Come worship for us. Worship of memory. When God calls us to remember,

it's not to get stuck in the past.

That's hard sometimes. There's some things that I can get stuck in saying,

man, I just wish we can go back to this or wish we can go back to that.

Some things we might, I don't know.

But remembering is not to get stuck in where we were.

It's to propel us into where we're going.

Our stories are not monuments to what used to be. They're the fuel for what God wants to do next.

And I'm not here making grandiose statements.

Just wait, we're building a new building. I don't know what we'll do,

but I do know as I remember God's faithfulness, as I remember the stories,

they become fuel for a new faith for what God wants to do next.

Living Word is standing at a Jordan moment. Again, I think I feel all my heart,

Not because we're moving locations, but because God is moving us spiritually,

missionally, relationally into what's next.

We're crossing into, I believe, deeper discipleship, renewed community,

fresh mission, generational continuity, an expanded kingdom influence, whatever it looks like.

But to cross into what is next, we must remember who we are.

A community formed by the faithfulness of God, rooted in the stories of real

people, woven into the story of God's redemption.

Today is not just about looking back in gratitude.

Looking forward with courage. The next chapters of Living Word will not be written

by accident, nor were the last.

They will be written in the same way the first ones were, by ordinary people

saying yes to an extraordinary God, by families choosing faith over fear,

by people stepping in to the waters even when the water is high,

by a church that refuses to walk alone, by a community that lives out the stories

that God is writing in each of us.

And hear this this morning.

Your story matters here.

Your pain matters here.

Your gifts and talents, they matter here. Your callings matter here.

Your family matters here. Your children matter here.

Your journey matters here because together we are the stones. We're the testimony.

We are the story God is telling here in this little church in Green, New York.

Build a memorial of gratitude this morning. On this 38th anniversary,

you can go ahead and stand up.

On this Thanksgiving Sunday, we do what Israel did. And we remember, we give thanks.

We look back long enough to see the faithfulness of God so that we can look

forward with confidence into the future that God is calling us into.

And we have not passed this way before.

But the God who stopped the Jordan the God who parted the Red Sea,

the God who led us through garages and placements and market spaces and libraries

the God who provided this place for us to build together the God who shaped

our stories the God who healed broken kids and weary adults,

The same God goes before us now and because of that we step forward.

Your Lord but that

story is only lived out with other

people whose stories come together

sometimes messy sometimes ugly

but always beautiful and always full of God's faithfulness we're gonna have

a meal today and I was gonna do communion but we're going to let our meal be communion,

as we sit around the tables together some new and some old some of the old corn,

some of the new corn all of us part of the story.

Lord, I thank you.

Father, in the beginning, and of course, even times in between the 38 years,

I was probably more like the first generation wandering in the wilderness,

complaining about what I've lost.

Not able to recognize what you were trying to give me.

And today Father I am so grateful for the stones the monuments in my life that

were built here in this house,

for me for my family, for my kids, for my grandkids that this is a place,

where your faithfulness no matter what Father there will always be imperfections

there will be some times when we get it wrong there will be some times when

we have to walk through pain but we know that through all of it Father,

because as we've looked back, as I've looked back, the thing that overwrites

and supersedes all of the heartache that I can remember is your faithfulness.

That was tangibly experienced by a 12-year-old boy by the hands of the people

in this church and that are still, Father,

the manifestation even today of your faithfulness in my life.

Lord, we remember. We look back so we can look forward.

We thank you, Lord, for it in Jesus' name. Come on, somebody say amen.