November 22nd, 2010 – Sermon Notes.
Acts 13:36
“For David after he had served the purpose of God in his own generation, fell asleep, and was laid to rest among his fathers…”
Put in any name of a person who served God:
-Adam
-Noah
-Abraham
-Moses
-Joshua
-Pastor Stew
God has a purpose for our lives. Most of us have our own direction. Satisfying the purpose of God is your life’s calling. Stew answered that call…
The Bible says that many are called but few chosen–WHY?
A lack of desire, passion?
When you respond you do something about it. You want it enough to hear the call and respond to it. You don’t look back when you hear the call, you just GO. Stew never looked back. He was a man who had options but when he heard God call he followed, even when that call led him to a little town called Quesnel.
He ran his race, he brought the good news to his generation and he finished well. But he’s also left us a legacy. He impacted us, he amplified the sound of God’s call so that we could hear it and now we must choose to hear it and run…
November 29th, 2010
Sermon notes, emails of encouragement, and a whole stash of memories float through my mind not only of Pastor Stew but of others who I have watched leave this physical world over the last several years. I have chased these dying leaves through the alley ways of my heart trying to recover a sense of their youthfulness and life. Yet as I catch them in my fingers they crunch and crumble, fragile memories torn from my grasp by the ever blowing winds of time. I mourn the loss of them, crying alone as they scuttle past, whipping, twirling, tracing crazy patterns across my heart and then leaving as quickly as they appeared.
I watch the changes in this autumn world shivering as I feel the chill of winter seeping in and wonder what the purpose behind them is… I may never know. However I am aware that if I keep moving one foot in front of the other days will pass with relatively beauty in spite of the chill. And as I trudge onwards through the cold and snow a miracle will occur. The sky will brighten. The snow will melt. I will shrug off the heavy layers and struggle to walk through mud and then the sun will burst forth and I will kick off my shoes and I will run with joy through the fields of summer. And though I don’t understand it all the crumbling leaves of that autumn will nourish the brillant wild flowers of my summer months. Hope will be birthed.
