Thanksgiving Eve Message; Psalm 100

 

Rev. George Miller

Nov 26, 2025; Thanksgiving Eve

Psalm 100

 

To guide, to tend, to be welcomed back as one of God’s own.

 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, my favorite day of the year.  It’s waking up to watch Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade while eating buttermilk pancakes and sipping coffee with sweetened condensed milk.

 

Thanksgiving is making my mom’s creamed onions; putting up the Christmas Tree while listening to holiday songs by Natalie Cole and Luther Vandross.

 

Thanksgiving is hanging ornaments from people I’ve known and places I’ve been like Disney World and Anheuser Busch; watching “A Diva’s Christmas Carol” and my favorite Doctor Who Christmas Special.

 

Thanksgiving is a day I spend alone, but in no way lonely.  I get to stay inside and in my pjs all day, unrushed and unbothered.

 

It’s the day I fondly remember everybody.  My family who has always watched the Parade no matter where we are.  The foods that remind me of folk like my great-grandmother in Brooklyn.

 

Each ornament is attached to a memory and person- Cornelius, Carmel’la, Tonya, Timmy.

 

I love Thanksgiving.  It creates space to rest and remember, reconnect through texts and calls, and watching the cats lay under the glow of the Christmas tree lights while Bing Crosby sings.

 

For me, Thanksgiving is a day to remember where you’re from, where you’re going, who’s been there along the way.

 

What does it mean for you; how do you choose to spend it?

 

Thanksgiving is a reminder of our nation’s past and foundational moments- the adventures, the trials, and coming together; a day tied to our denomination, as the Pilgrims and Puritans became the Congregational side of the UCC. 

 

The first was a meal they had in 1621 shared with the Wampanoag people. Then in 1863, President Lincoln established Thanksgiving as a National Holiday, seeking to restore harmony, asking citizens to pray for the nation’s wounds.

 

Be it that first meal in 1621, 1863 or 2025, Thanksgiving is a time to look back, look forward and say  “Thank you thank you thank you.”

 

How each culture brought their own flair to the Thanksgiving dinner.  German immigrants brought the Cornucopia, their love for parades, and pastries. 

 

Tonight’s Psalm is perfect for a night like this.  A chance to praise the Lord and give thanks to God  who made us, in which we are the sheep of the pasture.

 

Such an interesting phrase.  What does it mean to say we are sheep of the pasture?  In many ways it says more about God than it does about us.

 

It means God is our shepherd.

 

As sheep of God’s pasture, we can trust that God will guide us.  That is we listen and learn to discern God’s will and God’s voice, we can find ourselves in productive places, safe situations, in which the Spirit gives us direction, rhythm, purpose, and a place at the table.

 

God tends to us, noticing what we need.  The healing of hurts, being lifted up after a fall from grace or a tough time.  Being carried while we are weak; being encouraged to thrive in the sun.

 

God welcomes us back.  When we have strayed, when we feel so far away and ready to return, God is the kind of shepherd who lets us approach, because the relationship has never truly stopped.

 

God knows our voice, knows our heart, welcomes us back into the flock, walking beside us, talking sweetly to us, encouraging us, making sure we find those green pastures and still waters again.

 

God is the shepherd who says “You’re here; you’re safe.  Let’s eat.  Let’s get you strong again.”

 

This is the heart-language of tomorrow; this is the heart-language of the Advent season we are about to enter.

 

The thanks we give for all we are surrounded by and blessed with; the thanks we get for belonging to God and being one of the flock.

 

The thanks we give for being in the Lord’s presence, for being part, guided, tended to, and welcomed whenever we stray.

 

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.  What are you thankful for; what are we thankful for; how do we continue to show that spirit of gratitude to God, our Good Shepherd.  Amen.

Live; Jeremiah 29:4-14

 

Rev. George Miller

Nov 23, 2025

Jeremiah 29:4-14

 

Last Sunday, I stated “St. Lucas is going to “St. Lucas.”  After last week, ya’ll can say “Pastor George is going to ‘Pastor George.’” 

 

What was I doing by coming in knowing I was nowhere near 100%, or even 25%?  Some of it was the “show must go on” mentality of a theater kid.  Some of it was being a Miller- we simply don’t call in sick, we push through.

 

Last week I could not push

through or stand, but ya’ll stood by me. 

 

St. Lucas showed love by bringing water, encouragement to sit, and adapting to an unexpected service. 

 

You were Big Mamas and Big Papas who said “You need to go the hospital,” when I thought it could be slept off on the couch.

 

I apologize for the worry that was caused last Sunday.  At the same time, if it did not happen, I would not have known there was an issue that needed treatment.

 

I am proud of you- on the spot, St. Lucas embodied what it means to be the hands and feet of Christ, as well as to be the wisdom and chariot of the King.

 

Some may think Christianity is about having the right things memorized, or showing up every Sunday, but often it is about how you show up in the everyday things, how you interact with others, the kindness shared.

 

Viktor’s Mom in Colombia sent me this message “Everyone offers what they have.  Here I leave you a coffee, a hug, and a happy day.”

 

A coffee.  A hug.  A happy day.  I think Christ would agree and embrace the simplicity. 

 

Coffee- Fellowship/Communion.

A hug- Compassion.

A happy day- Heaven, right here. 

 

Today we celebrate Christ The King; not the kind of King we saw in Amos who accepts bribes nor the cowardly King in Isaiah.

 

Christ is the King who embodies things like fellowship, compassion, and God’s will be done here, on Earth.  Today’s reading offers a hint of what “Thy will be done, on Earth,” looks like.

 

160 years ago, Amos the shepherd told the Kings of the North and South that God wasn’t pleased with their behavior  or impressed with their fake piety.

 

140 years ago Isaiah told the Southern King- “Stay; wait; trust that God will work this out.”

 

But none of the kings listened, their ingrained dysfunctions has made the whole body weak. Now the worst thing has happened.

 

Babylon, seeing just how disunited Judah is, attacks.  They demolish local businesses, burn the fields, and destroy the Temple.

 

Then, they take the who’s who of Judah away into Exile.  The King and Queen, the royal court and Temple personnel.  The soldiers, artisans, engineers and architects.

 

If you had a skill, if you could add to the economy, if you could build, make, fix, fight, create, you were taken 900 miles away to Babylon.

 

If you were not seen as “good enough” or able to bolster the economy, if you were too old, too arthritic, you were left in Judah, to face the burnt fields, barren businesses, and broken temple.

 

What a conundrum created by the kings who could have simply kept the Commandments and Covenant. 

 

Now the nation is torn asunder; some citizens live in ruins, others in a strange new land.  It is to the exiles that Jeremiah writes too. 

 

He knows they are there for the long haul, a situation that could mark the end of their existence.

 

Speaking on behalf of God, Jeremiah gives them this advice- LIVE.

 

To this group of folk who have experienced severe trauma, Jeremiah says “Live.  Build houses; turn them into homes.  Connect with the earth and eat what you plant.  Get married.  Have babies and grandbabies.”

 

To fractured folk 900 miles away from familiar faces, God says “Plant seeds, grow, be part of the community, pray for it’s welfare.”

 

If you want to know why the enslaved people of Africa were able to endure; if you’ve wondered how your ancestors were able to cross an ocean and thrive, know it’s because of scripture like this that speaks to the sojourners, the immigrants, to anyone who’s ever had to go from “here” to “there.”

 

This idea of acceptance that says “Even when the situation is not ideal, you can establish a sense of home, a sense of purpose, a sense of continuity and community.”

 

Not to say that any of this would be easy for the exiles.  They went from stone homes built in the hills to mudbrick houses on flat land.

 

They went from growing olives, grapes, and wheat, to cucumbers, dates, and barley.  

 

They went from having the best vineyards and wine in the world to malt liquor and expensive imports.

 

For people in which oil and wine were instrumental in their worship,  without olives and grapes they faced a liturgical loss, like how COVID reshaped Communion.

 

Jeremiah addresses this in a way similar to Viktor’s Mom- “Do what you can, offer what you have: coffee, a hug, and a happy day.”

 

When reading Jeremiah’s words about homes, gardens, fellowship, it sounds like heaven.

 

Jeremiah is saying “Find a way to make heaven here on earth.  When you build, grow, seek the city’s welfare, God is there.”

 

In some ways, that’s what Christ is King is all about.  Christ is the King who is right there to seek the welfare of all, who finds ways to make heaven here on earth.

 

When saying Christ is King we’re not saying Christ dominates or subordinates, is easily bribed or conquers cities. 

 

We mean Christ is a King who joins us at a wedding and when the wine runs out, says “Trust me- there’s more” and invites the inbreaking of heaven.

 

Christ is the King who engages with a foreign woman of differing faith and does not humiliate her.

 

Christ is the King who offers health care to an official’s son and a man laying by the gate.

 

Christ is the King who says “Come and inherit the kingdom for you fed me when I was hungry, gave me something to drink when I was thirsty, you cared for me when I was sick and welcomed me when I was a stranger.”

 

Christ is the King who wants us to have a happy home, be able to provide, eat, fall in love, and have a family.

 

Christ is the King who wants us to pray for the well-being of the community, and benefit from the community’s well-being.

 

What an empowering way to think of Jesus; a fabulous way to embody our faith.

 

Not separate; but part of.  Not as victims, but survivors. Not alone, but together.  Not detached, but connected.

 

This is the King we celebrate today; the King we travel back to Bethlehem to greet.

 

Christ is the King whose hands and feet we are invited to every week, and every day, no matter where we are.                     Amen.

Stay; Isaiah 9:2-7

 

Rev. George Miller

November 16, 2025

Isaiah 9:2-7

 

After our Annual Meeting last week, someone came over and said “I hope we haven’t frightened you away.”  I smiled with reassurance, also because someone said the same thing at our last meeting.

 

After 20 years of church meetings, not to mention Conference, and General Synod meetings, they are all the same, with the same amount of stress, tension, and fear.

 

But one thing to be said is that St. Lucas is going to “St. Lucas.” 

 

We’re going to worry about finances, we’re going to have heated moments, we’re going to take an hour to vote on a motion.

 

I smile, but it also breaks my heart, knowing that folk are worried; afraid.  No one wants to see such a foundational rock as St. Lucas worrying about future survival.

 

St. Lucas does too much good.  We’re an inportant place in the community.  Many families and legacies are within these walls.

 

So we are afraid.  Uprooted with worry.  Fearful about finances.

 

God bless Tom who asked “Do we have a plan?”  His question creates a steady ground for us to work side by side to allay concerns.

 

Though I smiled when asked the question, I am mindful of 2 things-

 

There is a divide in how we think and want to proceed as a Body of Christ; not quite yet a cohesive team that moves forward as one.

 

Second- we heard a lot about budget and voting, but we didn’t hear were words like “Gospel,” “God,” “Jesus,” “Holy Spirit.”  Scripture or Christ’s Teachings didn’t come up. 

 

As an entity whose Mission is to unite  “Christians in the worship of God and affirms life-long Christian education, faithful discipleship and caring service in God’s name,” we didn’t hear many of those words.

 

Maybe next year we can start our meeting with the Mission and Our Promise, which reads-

 

“St. Lucas UCC members, united in Christ and led by the Holy Spirit, strive to live faithfully, grow spiritually and serve lovingly all of God’s creations.”

 

Last week, someone said “I hope we haven’t frightened you away.”  I smiled because after 20 years of meetings, they are all the same, with the same stress and fear, and St. Lucas is going to “St. Lucas.”

 

We’re not the only ones- this level of worry has been around since God set the Israelites free and their first worry was about water.

 

The fear and worry over real life situations is all over the Bible.  Some like Hannah take it to the Lord.  Some like King Uzziah think they are the Lord. 

 

Then there’s King Ahaz who hears a word from the Lord and still chooses to do his own thing. 

 

King Ahaz is the 12^th King of Judah, the Southern Kingdom, about 30 years after Amos.  It’s a time of instability and worry.  The Assyrian empire is posing a threat to the world, taking over nations.

 

The King of the North partners with the King of Syria to fight against Assyria.  They invite King Ahaz and the South to join them.

 

Ahaz refuses, so they attack with the plan to install a puppet king.

 

Ahaz is terrified.  Instead of turning to God for guidance, he turns to the Assyrians, thinking that an alliance with them will bring him safety.

 

This is where Isaiah comes in.  He says to Ahaz “I know what you’re thinking, but don’t do it.  Stand still in your faith.  Stay right where you are.  Trust in the Lord.  Don’t turn to the left, don’t turn to the right, but stay.  Soon this will be over and you’ll be OK.”

 

But Ahaz ignores him.  He takes the Temple’s offerings and gives it to Assyria in exchange for their help, starting a non-reversable domino effect.  Assyria enters Judah, making them their underlings.  They attack Syria, conquer the capital city of Samaria, ending the Northen Kingdom. 

 

The people are taken as captives, displaced, forced into marriages, creating what’s known as the “Ten Lost Tribes of Isreal.”

 

Out of fear and zero trust in God, Ahaz has made his people servants of the Assyrians and caused the northern kingdom to be decimated.

 

It is a dark day for everyone.  But, as John 1:5 says “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overtake it.”

 

Though Isiah has come with words of judgement, he’s also come with words of hope.  Words that say these difficult days will be over, transformation will take place.

 

That seeds are being planted in which there will be some good.  Eventually troubles will be over, barriers are broken, and peace is possible.

 

Isaiah tells Ahaz about a child to be born, one who will do good things, live in right ways, and be enthusiastic for God.

 

For scholars, it is believed that Isaiah is talking about Ahaz’s son, named Hezekiah, who as the future kind did indeed do great things.

 

For Christians, this reading takes on a second meaning- pointing to the experience of Jesus Christ.

 

Especially Christians who know what it is like to walk through disappointment, pain, weariness.

 

In these words spoken 2,750 years ago, we hear the ageless stress and anxiety of being human and trying to make it through another week, another day, another hour.

 

Not much has really changed since Ahaz, has it?  Yet Isaiah still dares to say, “The people who walked in darkness have seen great light.”

 

Not that the darkness is gone, or pain non-existent.  But because we are not alone- God meets us there.

 

This is in many ways the heart of Advent that we are about to enter, when we get to journey back to Bethlehem and meet the baby in the manger, where God is present in the person of Jesus. 

 

Not a king in a castle or a chariot, but as a vulnerable innocent child.

 

When earliest Christians had an experience with Jesus, they looked upon these words from Isaiah  and said ‘These words are what God has done in Christ.  This is what God continues to do.”

 

When Jesus walked by people could sense the wisdom, the inner strength, the care.  When Jesus walked by those aching for stability and wholeness , they may have called him “Wonderful Counselor,” “Prince of Peace.”

 

One way we of St. Lucas can hear Isaiah’s words is to not think of a child born in the past, or yet to be, but the child born in you, now.

 

When we can breathe again after a hard week, when we are resilient,  when we speak kindness, we are embodying the everlasting wisdom and peaceful might seen in Christ.

 

As we enter into 2026 looking for a plan, we can hold onto these words, knowing that though things can appear dark, there is a light, it shines upon us, and the darkness does not have to overcome it.

 

We do not have to be Ahaz.  We don’t have to make rash decisions based on fear or makes alliances that drain our spirit.

 

We can turn to the light of Christ and welcome the presence of the Lord; we can remind ourselves that in Jesus, God is right there.

 

We can pray like Hannah.  We can use our wisdom like Solomon.  We can speak like Amos. 

 

With God, for God, as followers of Christ.    

  For that let us say “Amen.”

Sweet, Sweet Justice- Amos 1:1-2; 5:14-24

 

Rev. George Miller

November 9, 2025

Amos 1:1-2, 5:14-24

 

Amos.  A shepherd living at a time when the nation is broken in 2.

 

The success of King David and Solomon is no more.  Their heirs could rarely do what was right and pleasing to the Lord-

 

to do justice, love kindly, walk humbly with God in the cool breeze of the afternoon or under the starry sky.

 

As a result, the nation has split into 2 entities- the North and South.

 

In the North is King Uzziah, so good at securing a successful army and creating economic wealth, but goes into the Temple, acts as if he is the High Priest, insulting God.

 

In the South is King Jeroboam.  On the surface he’s brought peace to the nation, with money flowing into the economy; but under those seemingly calm waters, he is exploiting the poor, drowning in corruption, and building golden calves to worship other gods.

 

Though Amos lives 12 miles away in the hilly, rural town of Tekoa; surrounded by acres of olives, grapes, and barley, he sees all of this transpiring. 

 

Though his town is not wealthy, they are people that prize wisdom, folk who can think clearly, and are not impressed by shows of piety.

 

Amos is a shepherd.  He knows how to be observant; reflective; a keen sense of his surroundings, knowing when danger is near.

 

He would have a protective heart and courageous soul, to keep the flock safe from predators and thieves.

 

He would have a will to endure- long hours outside, dealing with rocky situations and harsh weather.

 

Take all these things together- where he lives, how his people think, what he does, and it makes Amos a perfect voice for God.

 

God uses this small-town shepherd surrounded by sycamore figs and barley fields to speak out to the 2 kings, to have them hear.

 

What they hear is not pleasant music from a piano or the cooing of a turtle dove.  It is the harsh jarring sound of God roaring with displeasure, as their actions are hurting the people.

 

The pastures where Amos works and the fertile highlands where fruit and fresh water come from are drying out.  There will be wildfires all over, and foreign enemies crouching to attack.

 

But it does not have to be this way.  Amos, filled with God’s “sophia”[1] says “Seek the Lord; seek the Lord and live.”

 

Amos says “Acts with integrity.  Don’t stomp upon the poor, steal their means of bread, take away their housing, or push them away while you take a bribe.”

 

Amos, filled with a passion for  fairness and mercy, tells the nation’s leaders-

 

“God is not impressed with your shows of grandiosity.  God does not care about your parades or pompous gifts meant to impress and control.”

 

“God does not care how loud you sing or if you have 76 trombones, 110 coronets, and horns of every shape and kind.”

 

Amos is preaching with the wisdom of the town elders, embodying the spirit of someone who knows what it’s like to live on the margins, to guard his sheep.

 

But…he does not leave the people dry or on a discordant note.  He offers hope, a chance to sing a different melody.

 

He says “Make the choice to focus on that which is good.  Enjoy making people smile and feel whole.”

 

“Make fairness and fellowship your priority, so when people walk through the gates of your city, they call ‘feel’ it and…exhale.”

 

Speaking for God, Amos says “Open up the faucets of heaven’s desires so that there is restoration and harmony, compassion and uprightness, balance, and flourishing.

 

In other words- “justice.”

 

Justice can sometimes be a hot-button word; but it doesn’t have to be.  Justice is a word that means-

 

Integrity.  Fairness.  Mercy. 

 

In a small-town, justice may simply mean “neighborliness.” 

 

In a place like Sedona, Arizona, full of red rocks, gemstones, and yoga studios, it can mean “Wholeness.”

 

In the big city full of hustle, bustle and honking horns, justice can mean “civility.”

 

In a church setting, justice can mean focusing on the 10 Commandments and teaching of Jesus, letting go of that which does not nurture God’s will being done here on earth.

 

For our veterans, it can mean “memory”- not forgetting and honoring what was endured.

 

This is what Amos encourages us to do; what Amos says is more important than shows of power or  acts done with strings attached.

 

Amos encourages justice- Integrity.  Fairness.  Mercy.

Neighborliness.  Wholeness. Civility.

Memory. Restoration.  Harmony. Compassion.  Uprightness.  Balance.  Flourishing.

 

So when that justice rolls down it feels like freedom; it feels like music; creating a sweet, sweet spirit, not just in the city, but in the small towns, the hill tops and the wilderness.

 

When that justice rolls down it sounds like “Amazing Grace,” “How Great Thou Art,” and “This Is My Father’s World” all at once.

 

When that justice rains down it sounds like “Hallelujah,” “Feed The Birds,” and “We Lift Your Name On High.”

 

When that justice arrives it sounds like the joyful songs of Taylor Swift, Beyonce, and Elvis Presley all pouring down into one big dance party.

 

When that justice rains down, it sounds like “Here I am Lord; Is it I Lord? I have heard you calling in the night.”

 

When justice rains down, it sounds like the moment at the manger, the waters of baptism, the invite to sit on the green grass, the Beatitudes, the words spoken to Nicodemus at night, the woman at the well, tears shed for Lazarus, and the greeting said to Mary on Easter morn.

 

Basically every word Jesus said, every act he did was some form of justice, from feeding to healing to saying “Peace be with you.”

 

The good news is that the Lord does not have to roar to get our attention; things do not have to wither or dry up.

 

We can bring that change; we can be that song of hope when we choose to focus on the good and act in ways that are right and kind.

 

For that, let us say “Amen.”

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[1] Sophia is Greek for “wisdom”