A Joyful Noise

Psalm 100

In Psalm 100, ancient words call us into God’s presence not with formality, but with jubilant praise: “Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.” The psalm moves us from the outer courts into intimate encounter. In doing so, it reorients us to the heart of worship.

The psalm is both a call to praise and a reminder why we praise. Worship, in the Hebrew sense, isn’t separate from work. It’s joyful work that we can refuse, but when embraced brings restoration and gladness. “Serve the LORD with gladness,” the psalmist exhorts.

Why this joyful response? Because the LORD is God. The name behind “LORD,” translated from the Hebrew, Yahweh, was once considered too holy to utter aloud. Yet this holy God made us, claims us, and calls His people to worship Him. “We are His people, the sheep of His pasture.” The imagery intensifies in light of Christ, who said, “I am the Good Shepherd.” God doesn’t just guide. He lays down His life, seeking each of us, rejoicing to bring us home into his house of worship.

Psalm 100 invites us to enter deeper into God’s presence. The invitation doesn’t stop at the temple gates. In the New Testament, the movement continues. Hebrews 10 reveals that, through Jesus, we don’t simply approach God’s dwelling, but we enter the Holy of Holies itself. Christ, by His sacrifice, has torn the veil and brought us near. We stand now in the place where no priest could tread without solemn preparation: the innermost sanctuary of God’s presence.

Why do we dare such intimacy? Because the LORD is good. Not good in some mathematical sense, but in that soul-stirring, delight-filled way that satisfies our deepest longings. His love, rooted in covenant, is steadfast and sure, even when we falter. In Christ, this covenant of grace is sealed in his sacrifice.

So, let your song rise. Not for ceremony, but from the recognition that in knowing Christ, we remember who we truly are. Worship becomes not just what we offer, but the place we become whole. Come before the LORD with jubilant song.

Have you grown lax in your worship of God in the presence of the people of God? Make this Sunday the Sunday you come home into his presence. Enter into intimate fellowship with him in his house, one not made of stone but the people Christ spilled his blood to redeem and bring back home into the heart of worship.

Known by Being Known

Psalm 139

Who are you, really?

In an age where we curate versions of ourselves through social media and struggle under the weight of comparison, Psalm 139 offers us something far more grounding than image or achievement: the soul-deep truth that we are fully known and deeply loved by God.

This isn’t abstract theology. It’s intensely personal. The God who made the stars also sees you when you lie awake at night, thoughts spinning. He knows every word on your tongue before you speak it, every fear and joy behind your silence. He knows your history, your path, your comings and goings, as a companion. Like a hand gently cupped around a marble about to roll off the table, God’s presence hems us in, protecting us from ourselves and from a world that often forgets our worth if we’ll let him.

This kind of knowing can feel frightening. What if God sees what I’m trying to hide? What if He’s disappointed?

And yet, the Psalmist reminds us that God’s gaze is not a spotlight of shame, but the steady light of love. The One who saw you in the womb and spoke you into existence also sees the parts of you that feel unfinished or unworthy and calls them “wonderfully made.” What would happen if we saw ourselves that way? If instead of chasing approval, we rested in the truth that we were handcrafted with purpose?

Even in moments of pain or confusion, when we might want to flee, we discover we cannot outrun the God who pursues us, to lead us home. Like the poet Malcolm Guite writes, “You search me out and lay your hand upon me,” not to constrain, but to steady and guide.

Perhaps the most freeing realization is this: when we open ourselves to the God who knows us completely, we begin to know ourselves truly. We don’t have to pretend, or pose, or self-promote. We are free to live honestly, courageously, and joyfully, secure in the care of the One who knows us best—and still chooses us.

As George MacDonald, said, “I would rather be what God chose to make me, than the most glorious creature that I could think of. For to have been thought about—born in God’s thoughts—and then made by God, is the dearest, grandest, most precious thing in all thinking.”.  

To be known by God is not merely comforting. It is transforming.

Let yourself be seen. And in being known, come to truly know the One who loves you.

A Fresh Start with Genuine Change

Psalm 51

We’ve all had moments we wish we could take back – decisions made in frustration, choices shaped by pride, mistakes that leave us feeling burdened with guilt. Whether in small ways or significant ones, we all experience the reality of sin in our lives. So, what do we do when we’ve truly blown it?

Psalm 51, written by King David after his greatest personal failure, offers hope for all who long for a fresh start. David’s story is one of disastrous consequences, but also one of divine grace. Instead of denying his failures, he appeals to God’s steadfast love, confessing his sins and asking God to make his heart clean once again.

That deep renewal that reaches the heart is something we all need. It’s more than behavior modification or trying harder next time. It’s real transformation.

A vivid picture of this renewal comes from the classic film “Mary Poppins”. The rigid, unfeeling Mr. Banks, once consumed by his career, is utterly changed. His turning point happens after he’s discharged from the very profession he staked his identity in. That loss broke him. Yet, in one of the most memorable scenes in the movie Mr. Banks is genuinely smiling and joining his children in a chorus of “Let’s Go Fly a Kite”. As he does so, his top hat is busted, his collar torn, and tie disheveled.

David’s sin had real and irreversible consequences, just as Mr. Banks experienced. Yet, just as Mr. Banks found freedom in his brokenness, David could ask God to restore joy where his sin had crushed him, because only God has the power to do that.

That’s the kind of renewal David seeks in Psalm 51. He prays, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” And that’s the kind of renewal available to us when we turn to God. As British preacher Martin Lloyd-Jones once said, “You and I must never look at any sin in our past life in any way except that which leads us to praise God and magnify His grace in Christ Jesus.”

No sin is too great, no failure too deep. God stands ready – arms open – to embrace us when we turn to Him. He can take our lowest moments and use them for our benefit – to change us. If you ever forget that, just look to the cross of Christ.

Psalm 27 and the Fight Against Anxiety

Anxiety is an ever-present struggle—one that can grip us in uncertainty, fear, and exhaustion. But in Psalm 27, King David offers a different approach to fear, one that transcends mere positive thinking or self-help strategies.

David begins with a bold declaration: “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?” His circumstances are dire. Enemies surround him, false accusations tarnish his name, and even the heartbreak of parental rejection weighs heavy. Yet, instead of dismissing his fears, David confronts them head-on.

Unlike the common advice to minimize worries, David acknowledges the worst—armies encamped against him, war on the horizon. And yet, he remains confident. His strength doesn’t come from wishful thinking but from anchoring himself in the presence of God.

David’s singular focus—the “one thing” he desires above all—is to dwell in God’s presence. Not just in a ritualistic sense, but in an intimate relationship. This is the peace that surpasses understanding. When fears arise, David turns his gaze toward something greater than his troubles: the beauty of the Lord.

When David entered the Temple, he witnessed the sacrifices—the blood, the smoke—but he saw something beyond it. He beheld the holiness of God, a just God who does not turn his face away from sin. Yet, in that moment, he also saw a God of mercy. Instead of himself on the altar, an animal was provided in his place.

This foreshadows the ultimate sacrifice of Christ at the cross. There, we see the fullness of God’s beauty—not only in His justice but in His boundless mercy. Christ, stripped, whipped, bloodied, and hung upon a cross, bore the weight of sin to deliver us from our deepest troubles. He was there because of the violent slander against Him, because an army was raised to arrest Him. On that cross, for a brief moment, He cried out, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46) He experienced forsakenness so that we might never need to.

It is God being sent out so that we might be taken in. To behold His beauty is not passive—it requires intention. But as we face life’s struggles while gazing upon His grace, we realize just how magnificent He is.


In the face of anxiety, David’s final words offer a call to resilience: “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage.” In a world filled with uncertainty, perhaps the most powerful response is not simply pushing aside fear, but knowing where to turn when it comes. For those struggling with anxiety, Psalm 27 offers a path to fearlessness—not because the storms disappear, but because we no longer face them alone.

The Story of St. Patrick

Patricious, later known as St. Patrick, was born around 387 AD to an aristocratic family in Briton. Raised as a Christian, he initially led a wildlife, only nominally adhering to his faith. At sixteen, Celtic pirates captured him and sold him into slavery in Ireland. Patrick worked for a druid, herding cattle, and during this time, he experienced a profound spiritual awakening. Isolated and surrounded by nature, he felt God’s presence deeply, leading him to pray up to a hundred times daily. This transformation did not go unnoticed by his captors.

Patrick’s captivity also allowed him to understand the Irish Celtic people, their language, and culture. He developed a love for them and hoped for their reconciliation with God. After six years, Patrick escaped slavery following a divine dream instructing him to find a ship ready to take him home. He eventually returned to Briton, where he trained for the priesthood, immersing himself in Scripture and theology.

Years later, another dream called him back to Ireland. An angel named Victor appeared with a letter from his former captors, pleading for his return. Interpreting this as his divine mission, Patrick was ordained a bishop and became Ireland’s first missionary around 432 AD. Despite the Irish Celts’ reputation for barbarism and human sacrifice, Patrick and his team reached out with love, respect for the better aspects of their culture, and unwavering faith. Their gentle yet bold approach led to the widespread acceptance of Christianity in Ireland.

Lessons from St. Patrick:

  1. God’s Presence in Suffering: Patrick’s traumatic experience as a slave brought him closer to God. His story reminds us that God can use our lowest moments to draw us nearer to Him. As the Apostle Peter says, “In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:6-7).
  2. Telling Others: Patrick returned to the very people who enslaved him, bringing them a message of hope and comfort. His actions exemplify how those comforted by God’s grace can comfort others with it. As the Apostle Peter also said, “Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind. Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing” (1 Peter 3:8–9).
  3. Community: Patrick’s deep sense of community made him an ideal missionary. He replicated the Celtic Irish’s communal life within his apostolic team, emphasizing that we are better together. As the author of Ecclesiastes says, “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!” (Ecclesiastes 4:9–10).

Patrick’s legacy teaches us the importance of community, faith, and reaching out to one another with the gospel of Christ.

Where can peace be found? (Luke 2:1-7)

Luke 2:1-7

Peace comes in many forms. We long for the day when peace between nations will end all wars. Our hearts ache for reconciliation with those we have become estranged. Nature earnestly awaits the day when her relationship with humanity becomes symbiotic rather than parasitic. Our hearts and minds seek a state of tranquility. Our bodies ache for freedom from deterioration and decay. Can such a peace that fulfills all these types of peace be found?

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We’re all trying to find our way home

Luke 15

What does “home” mean to you? It’s a word rich with memories, sensations, and emotions. Home is where life’s most profound moments occur—a place of laughter, authenticity, even conflict and reconciliation. Yet, home can also feel elusive, especially when we change locations. The opening scene of a movie says, “All of life is a coming home. Salesmen, secretaries, coal miners, beekeepers, sword swallowers, all of us, all the restless hearts of the world, all trying to find a way home.”

This longing for home echoes a biblical truth: our hearts seek a spiritual home with God, our Father. Saint Augustine reminds us that our hearts are restless until they rest in God. We are spiritual exiles, longing for our true relationship with Him.

Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son illustrates this perfectly. Sin isn’t just about wrongdoing; it’s seeking fulfillment away from God. Before the prodigal wasted his father’s wealth on wild living, he positioned his heart away from his father. He asked his father to give him his inheritance early. Those words would have pierced his father’s heart. Only a son who wanted his father eradicated from his life would make such a request.

The father honors his son’s soul-crushing request. The prodigal squanders his father’s wealth. In trying to find himself outside his father’s home, he finds himself lost, miserable, and bankrupt. So, he decides to drag himself back home and beg his father to give him a job as a hired hand. Yet, when his father sees his tattered son from a distance, he runs to him. He embraces him, squeezing his son close to his chest. Then he throws a homecoming party, because this son who was lost has finally come home. This father reflects God’s unwavering loving grace toward all of his restless, wayward children. I invite you to read this parable yourself in the Bible (Luke 15).

This parable illustrates the grander story of the Bible. God gives Adam and Eve a perfect home. Adam and Eve decide to take what God gave them and try to find fulfillment outside of God’s will (Genesis 3). This action separates them from the Father. We ought not look down on them, because we all do the same (Romans 3:11). So, God, in his loving grace, pursues his children. He delivers Israel from slavery in Egypt to live with him in the freedom of the Promised Land. But, Israel distances herself from God. The nation turns to other gods and ends up in a foreign land away from God. God sends prophets to call them home. When they did not listen, he sends his very own Son (Luke 20). His Son left his home in heaven to bring God’s children home.

No matter how far we’ve strayed, God awaits, eager to welcome you back to him. Embrace the truth that Christ’s love always calls us home, no matter how far we have strayed.

It’s Time to Get the Bible Right

It’s time to get the Bible right. Many who open the Good Book do so with expectations that can only be dashed by the actual content they find there.

The Bible is not primarily a moral tale of great heroes of the faith. While you will find some heroic actions done with great faith, even the greatest characters in the Bible, excepting One, have fatal flaws.

When we approach the Bible with the intent to “dare to be a Daniel” or to ask, “What would Jesus do?”, we miss its central message. Indeed, Jesus came to model what perfect humanity looks like, but he knew what was inside the human heart: “But Jesus on his part did not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to bear witness about man, for he himself knew what was in man” (John 2:24–25 ESV). Jesus knew that no one in this world could live the kind of life he lived. He came not mainly as a moral example but as a Savior.

Several years ago, someone shared an article with me written by a pastor from another mainline denomination. He accused the Old Testament of promoting polygamy, as if to say, “Look at all the examples of polygamy in the Bible!” While the author listed examples, he failed to provide citations. So, the person who shared the article with me and I opened our Bibles to find those examples and test his claims. Here’s what we found:

Polygamy does not end well in the Bible. The stories often portray the world not as it ought to be but as it really is. Even the greatest so-called heroes of the Bible committed heinous sins (2 Samuel 11). Polygamy, in the Bible, leads to jealousy, abuse, and a host of generational family dysfunctions. Israelite kings were instructed against it (Deuteronomy 17:14–17), though many succumbed to this popular practice of neighboring kingdoms. Well before David committed adultery with Bathsheba, he had already set his heart on this trajectory by going against God’s good instruction (2 Samuel 5:13).

The rockstar Bono said in an interview, “The Scriptures remain a plumb line to gauge how crooked the wall of my ego has become.” The Bible presents us with broken people whom God’s grace needs to touch and transform. After a long, duplicitous, and polygamous life, old Jacob finally humbles himself before the Lord (Genesis 32:30). The Bible offers a mirror in which we can see our fallen humanity, receive the salvation offered by the Savior, and be renewed (2 Corinthians 5:17).

“For the Beauty of the Earth” (Hebrews 13:15)

Bright yellow daffodils burst out of the ground trumpeting to us the song of spring. After a long winter, especially here in Wellsboro, the tease of warmer, brighter weather arouses gleeful anticipation. For this reason, our family has chosen, “For the Beauty of the Earth” as our April hymn of the month.

Folliott S. Pierpoint wrote “For the Beauty of the Earth” in the spring of 1863, sitting on a hilltop outside Bath, England, taking in the country view with the Avon River winding through. The hymn invites us to think about God’s magnificent gift of creation and the gift of his instrument of recreation, the church.  

Every created thing can reveal something of the glory of God to us if we have the natural and spiritual senses to observe it (Romans 1:19-20). The Psalmist declares, “The heavens declare the glory of God” (Psalm 19:1). God causes the sun to rise over and the rain to fall upon both the evil and the good, reminding us that God’s blessings fall on all people, even those who reject him (see Matthew 5:45). God provides sustenance for the birds of the air and dresses the lilies of the field to teach us about his care for us (see Matthew 6:26-29). Scripture exhorts us to consider the ways of the ant and be wise (see Proverbs 6:6). “But ask the beasts, and they will teach you,” Job said (Job 12:7).

Less than ten years before Pierpoint wrote, “For the Beauty of the Earth,” Elizabeth Barrett Browning said something along the same lines in her epic poem Aurora Leigh:

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more from the first similitude.

Pierpoint originally wrote “For the Beauty of the Earth” as a Communion hymn. The original version of the hymn repeated the phrase “sacrifice of praise” in its refrain to remind us of the sacrifice of Christ for our sins on the cross. Whenever we partake of communion we remember Christ’s sacrifice.  

You can find this phrase in Hebrews 13:15 as well, “Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name” (ESV). Whether we use our lips to lift up the bread and the cup or sing praises to God, we are offering up to him a sacrifice of praise. Let us sing!

For the beauty of the earth,
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies:
Christ, our God, to Thee we raise
this, our sacrifice of praise.

For the beauty of each hour
Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and tree and flow’r,
Sun and moon, and stars of light:
Christ, our God, to Thee we raise
this, our sacrifice of praise.

For the joy of human love,
Brother, sister, parent, child,
Friends on earth, and friends above;
For all gentle thoughts and mild:
Christ, our God, to Thee we raise
this, our sacrifice of praise.

For each perfect Gift of Thine
To our race so freely given,
Graces human and Divine,
Flowers of earth, and buds of Heaven:
Christ, our God, to Thee we raise
This our Sacrifice of Praise.

Bible Memory Verses

Hebrews 13:15-16 (ESV)

“Through him then let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.”

You can listen to “For the Beauty of the Earth” here:

For the Beauty of the Earth – Keith & Kristyn Getty

If you would be interested in listening to some of our family’s previous month’s hymns, feel free to check out our playlist on Spotify:

Birbeck Family Playlist