Nov 3

Nov 3 The Grace of the Unexpected

I keep catching myself with a stupid grin on my face this morning. The Atlanta Braves won the World Series. This was not supposed to happen.

They never sniffed a winning record until August 6. One of their star pitchers never saw the mound all season due to injuries. Their best player who was in the midst of a MVP-caliber year was lost in July. Their general manager overhauled a decimated outfield at the trade deadline when other teams, teams with better records were selling out to wait for next year.

They ground it out, hung around in a weak division, started to string together wins, and found their way to NL East pennant in the last week of the season. That was supposed to be it. At 88 wins, there were teams that missed the playoffs with better records than Atlanta.

So no one really expected anything out of this team in the postseason. Few predicted they would make it out of the first round against Milwaukee. Not to mention they were Atlanta team and Atlanta teams have become known across sports for their ignominious playoff failures. Every time the Braves lost, sportswriters and fans knew that the other shoe was dropping.

Except every time Atlanta lost, they came out the next game and won.

Oct 22

Oct 22 Why are you sleeping? (Luke 22:46 & Romans 13:10-12)

Chris Cox

Sermon Manuscript

Twenty-nine years ago, the Atlanta Braves were playing the Pittsburgh Pirates in the National League Championship Series. You have to understand that at the time—at least from my childhood perspective—it seemed like the entire southeastern region of the United States lived and died with the fortunes of the ball club from Atlanta. They were a garbage team for much of the 1980s, but suddenly with the rise of an incredible pitching staff they began to catch fire. And the South plus anyone who had the channel TBS on cable began to get swept up in the excitement. Braves hats were everywhere. P.A. systems at high school football games would break in with updates of playoff scores.

Once a year, our church would take buses on the three hour trek to Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium and it felt like a trip to Disney World. By all metrics, baseball has been passed in popularity by football and maybe even basketball. So those first few years of the 1990s are in my memory, baseball’s last true run at being the National Pastime. My brother Taylor and I were locked into all of it.

All of which brings us back to 29 years ago this past Thursday: Atlanta and Pittsburgh were playing a winner-take-all Game 7. The Braves were seeking their second consecutive trip to the World Series, while the Pirates were seeking to avenge falling short against Atlanta the year before. Pittsburgh pitcher Doug Drabek pitched a masterful game and the Pirates were winning 2-0 going into Atlanta’s final at-bat in the Bottom of the 9th; three outs from celebrating on the field of their nemesis. Then October magic began to stir. Terry Pendleton led off with a double then advanced to third when David Justice reached base on an error. Next, Sid Bream walked to load the bases. Ron Gant hit a long fly ball for the first out that allowed Pendleton to score and make it a one run ballgame. Catcher Damon Berryhill walked to load the bases again and then Brian Hunter popped up to the second baseman.

Sep 8

Sep 8 Just Said No

Chris Cox

So here’s the thing that you need to understand about being an elementary school kid in the late 80s/early 90s: we were led to believe that drugs were going to be constantly pushed on us. Our teachers told us this. Nancy Reagan told us this. TV shows told us this. Cartoon characters told us this a lot.

I still remember the PSA starring the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles where they showed a video of a kid named Tommy being offered weed. Donatello and company talked us through how to say no. That’s where I learned that “I’m not a chicken! You’re a turkey!” was going to be the kiss-off line that would save me from some mullet-headed, jean jacket-wearing fifth grade drug kingpin.

This is not to make light of drug addiction nor to gloss over the complicated legacy of the War on Drugs, both of which are serious issues. It’s just that I was told that I was going to need all this drug-resistance education because I would one day be bombarded with every illegal substance known to humanity. Except it never happened.

Until today.

Sep 6

Sep 6 What are you looking for? (John 1:35-42 & Matthew 6:33)

Chris Cox

Sermon Manuscript

One evening this past week, our family was about to arrive home when I remembered that we didn’t have what one of our sons needed in order to bring his lunch to school the next day. I offered to run back out. This is one of the things that I do: I go to the grocery store and I pick up dinner from restaurants. The men of yore would go out into the field, hunt, and bring their bounty back home. So in that spirit, I too venture out into the wild to track down the elusive prey that are chicken nuggets and tacos.

I dropped E.A. and the boys off at our front door and headed off to the nearest grocery store certain that this would be a quick trip. I knew what I was looking for and I even had multiple options. As long as they had microwaveable bacon or a Chicken Dunks Lunchable, I was golden. I would bring home the bounty. My kid would have his lunch for school the next day.

Yet there was a snag: our grocery store did not have either item. So I texted E.A.: “Swing and a miss on both items. Do you want me to look elsewhere or come home?” She said to try another place; again, we would like for our kid to be able to eat lunch. I drove about 15 minutes to another grocery store. A bigger grocery store. One that has not failed to have the items that are sometimes missing from the smaller store close to our house. In confidence, I strode to the refrigerated section in the back that is home to breakfast meats and pre-packaged meals for school-aged children and lazy college students.

And it was barren. There was no bacon. There were no Chicken Dunks Lunchables. It was as if there was a breaking news story in which a scientist had warned the nation that we don’t know how many pigs or chickens we have left and a panicked populace rushed the grocery stores in hopes of one last moment with pork and poultry.

Aug 6

Aug 6 16 Years

Chris Cox

My first concrete memory of EA Ferree was the night I turned 19. We had met before then but when you get chucked into a lake with a person that memory tends to take primacy. It was tradition at Furman—the college we both attended—for one to be forcibly thrown into the campus lake on his or her birthday. When my time for this ritual came, our mutual friend Justin remarked that E.A.'s birthday was 3 days away. Two birds, one stone, a bigger splash.

It was probably half a year later before I would have thought of EA as a good friend. Another four or five months after that when I started falling hard for her. Summer after our sophomore year, I did such a horrendous job asking her out that she had to ask for clarification. Three years, 2 months, and 16 days after the lake, we got married and that was 16 years ago today.

I was 19 when this amazing woman came into my life and now I am 38 and change. We crossed a threshold. We have now been part of each other’s stories for over half our lives. For some reason, it is wild for me to reflect on that. It becomes more difficult to remember life before EA and I cannot imagine a future without her.

Jul 11

Jul 11 Tomorrow (Acts 2:42-47)

Chris Cox

Sermon Manuscript

Today is Birthday Sunday at Woodmont. This church is celebrating 78 years, but from where I stand it looks no older than 7 or 8 months. In all seriousness, a group of individuals came together with the dream of forming a church and they laid out this covenant:

We do hereby solemnly covenant with God and one another to bond ourselves together to establish a Christian Church in this community for ourselves and posterity.

We pledge our time, substance, talents and prayers to the end that His Church shall be a house of prayer for all people, a fellowship of those who believe in Christ and strive to follow his teachings, and a part of the Church Universal.

We aim to erect a suitable edifice for divine worship, for Christian education, for stewardship, for world missions, and to minister to the spiritual needs of the community.

All this we covenant to be and do under the guidance of God and the leadership of Jesus Christ our Lord.

That is legitimately something to celebrate and those words are a good summation of what we at Woodmont Christian Church ought to be about. It is a day to celebrate.

So with it being our birthday, it is time to make a wish and blow out the proverbial candles. Let me ask you: What is your wish for Woodmont going into the future? What do you hope and pray that the church looks like tomorrow? And really we would do well to expand that question; not just what we hope Woodmont looks like tomorrow but, as the covenant puts it, the Church Universal. Because it’s bigger than us. To tweak a quote from the cinematic masterpiece Thor: Ragnarok, the church is not a place, it’s a people. Woodmont is not this building but the people of this community and our community exists within the larger body of Christ.

Jun 20

Jun 20 Arguing with Jesus After the Storm

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

“Have you still no faith?”

That is what Jesus said to his disciples after they woke him up in the middle of a raging storm and he calmed the sea with a word. It is a question that does not land well with me. I want to argue a bit with Jesus: “Go easy on them, they thought they were going to die.” There are times when it seems like Jesus does not quite understand humanity. The pious counterargument is that he does not understand a humanity that lacks a complete trust in God. Yet piety is tough when your mouth is full of brackish water.

The disciples were afraid for their lives. They were on a boat at sea in a storm. They were fighting for their very existence. And I imagine that at least some of them were not just afraid of losing their own lives but the life on the one that they believed was the hope for their people. The life that was asleep on the boat.

May 23

May 23 Pentecost on Two Wheels

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

My parents texted me a few weeks back and asked me what I wanted for my birthday. Birthday presents aren’t quite as exciting in your late 30s. My oldest son, whose birthday is just a few days before my own, asks for toys and Lego sets. Alright, in full disclosure, I have very recently asked to receive Lego sets for birthdays. But I wasn’t feeling that this year and I always ask for books. So I told them that I was trying to save up for a new bike and so money to go towards that would be greatly appreciated.

“You don’t want your old bike?” Mom responded.

This isn’t the first time she has asked me if I wanted my old bike. Frankly, I wasn’t sure it was in decent shape. I probably haven’t touched the thing in over 20 years. But it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. My dad took it for a short ride. The tires were surprisingly good, the gears were a bit of a question mark, but it was decent. I figured I’d give it a shot. Mom and Dad put it on their bike rack and drove it up here from South Carolina when they came to visit us for our May birthdays.

It’s been awhile since bike riding was a regular part of my life. When we lived in Columbia, I would ride it all around my neighborhood; pretending that I was going fast enough to travel through time like Marty McFly. When we moved to Spartanburg, we lived on a curvy and narrow street on which teenagers in pickup trucks would do their best NASCAR impersonations. Riding a bike on that road felt like courting death. So I didn’t ride my bike too much after 3rd grade; not even when, as a teenager, I got the dark granite Murray that my dad set down in our Nashville driveway.

May 19

May 19 To Jim on His 11th Birthday

Chris Cox

You were so excited this morning. You bounded out of bed and exclaimed “It’s my birthdaaaaaaaay!” as you wrapped your arms around me. Even though your party isn’t until later this week (and you have to share it with your parents), you were just thrilled with the fact that today you turned eleven. And you got to open one present. You were pretty pumped about that.

You still beamed when I picked you up from school. You didn’t even mind when we went to the church to kill time before we picked up dinner. You picked a barbecue place for dinner. The present you got today was a Lego version of Luke Skywalker’s X-Wing. The movie that you picked was Avengers: Age of Ultron, which is definitely the worst Avengers movie but you’re very dedicated to tackling these things chronologically. Three choices that highlight that you are definitely my son (there are many ways you are your mother’s son as well). It’s been a good day.

I have been writing these birthday letters to you for a decade now and this might be the first time that I feel a hefty dose of melancholy as I reflect on you being another year older. There is change around the corner. You are still very much a kid, but for the first time I really feel the finitude of those days. You are in middle school now. You will be starting in my youth group over the course of the summer. And I just have the sense that it’s going to sneak up on me. I won’t realize that you’ve crossed that threshold into adolescence until after the fact. Growing up is good. I want you to grow up. And there is part of me that is just not ready for it. Not yet.

Apr 28

Apr 28 The Grace of Showing Up

Chris Cox

After helping getting the boys ready and off to school, I begrudgingly trudged (betrudged?) outside for a run. It’s been a tough 13 months in that department; as it has been in most departments of our lives. Covid and work and being a parent have made it a sporadic discipline and it shows. I have put on more weight than I would like. I’m a little slower. I used to be able to go 5-7 miles with no problems, but now I muster 3-4 and will walk if there is an especially grueling hill. I am a runner, but I am not a good or especially consistent runner right now.

Yet I go outside. Not so much for the pudginess around my midsection but because my spirit needs it. It keeps me sane. It keeps me grounded. I started running because my dad did it. I still remember writing in my 8th grade English journal about how we ran 4 miles several times over Christmas break and my English teacher wrote in red ink: “Is this a good idea?” I started because of my dad but it became something of my own. I loved it because I could go far. Because I found a community of oddballs in track and cross country. Because it could quiet my often worried mind. It became a physical, mental, and spiritual exercise for me.

Not even a half mile in, drops begin to fall from the sky. Big, fat drops. The kind that you can zigzag and dodge as they plop around you. I briefly consider turning around and going home, but push on. The weather forecast said the greater chance of rain was this afternoon. It was likely a passing cloud.