Worship on Legacy Giving Sunday
10:00 am November 16, 2025
Minister: The Rev. Brad Childs Music Director: Binu Kapadia
Vocalists: Peter and Cheryl Sheridan Reader: Saber Fort
Welcoming Elder: Heather Tansem Children’s timer: Brad
We gather to worship God
Music prelude
Greeting
L: The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you
P: and also with you
Lighting of the Christ candle
Welcome and announcements
Preparation for worship
Call to worship:
L: Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth;
P: We will lift up joyous songs and sing your praises.
L: Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who live in it rejoice.
P: Let the hills sing together for joy at the presence of the Lord,
L: For God will come to judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with equity.
P: Let us join with all creation to praise the Lord! Let us worship God.
Opening praise: Here’s my heart, Lord
Prayer of Adoration
God…
You’re the One who made the stars and still knows every tear that slips down my cheek.
You hear the quiet ache in the middle of the night, the unspoken panic, the heavy sigh nobody else notices.
You see the fear that keeps us awake, the despair that whispers we’ll never be enough.
But You—You don’t just see. You step into the mess with us.
You walked our broken roads in Jesus, felt the dust, carried the weight, bled real blood.
And right now, in this room, You’re here.
We can feel it.
We’re desperate for the day when every wrong is made right, when heaven crashes into earth and justice isn’t just a dream.
We long to see every child safe, every heart healed, every lonely soul found.
You promise it’s coming.
So we lift our shaky hands and say:
We trust You.
We praise You.
We need You.
Keep working in Your church, in our city, in the hidden corners of our lives.
Make the broken beautiful again.
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—You are our hope, our home, our everything.
Jesus…
We’re tired of pretending.
We cling to yesterday like it’s safer than tomorrow.
We nurse grudges like old friends, replaying hurts on repeat.
We grumble when change knocks on the door—even when deep down we know we need it.
We see the person who’s been pushed to the edges—
the one who looks different,
sounds different,
carries scars we don’t understand—
and instead of pulling up a chair, we look away.
We build walls with our silence, our judgment, our comfort.
We say “Lord, Lord,” but our hearts stay locked.
Forgive us.
Not because we deserve it—
but because You already paid for it.
Tear down what we’ve built wrong.
Soften what’s gone hard.
Replace our resentment with Your kindness.
Give us courage to say “I was wrong.”
Give us tears for the people we’ve hurt.
Give us hands that reach, voices that bless, lives that welcome.
We’re laying it all down—
every secret shame,
every sharp word,
every lazy excuse.
Take it, Jesus.
Wash us.
Start over in us.
Make us new from the inside out.
(Long silence)
Response: We come to ask your forgiveness
Assurance of God’s Love
Listen close, family—
this is for you.
The world sizes you up, points fingers, keeps score.
But God?
He looks at you and says, “Mine.”
Every mistake? Covered.
Every tear? Seen.
Every wall you built? Jesus tore it down on the cross.
You don’t have to earn this.
You can’t lose it.
You are loved—
not after you get it together,
but right now,
in the middle of the mess.
So hear it, feel it, let it sink deep:
Your past is forgiven.
Your future is wide open.
Your Father is running toward you.
In Jesus, everything is made new.
You get to start again—
today.
Walk out of here free.
Walk out of here loved.
Walk out of here His.
We listen for the voice of God
Children’s Time
Song: Open our eyes, Lord (445)
Story
As the story goes, the only survivor of a shipwreck washed up on a small, uninhabited island. The man prayed feverishly for God to come and recuse him, and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none seemed forthcoming. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a little hut out of driftwood to protect him from the elements, and to store his few possessions.
But then one day, after scavenging for food, he arrived home to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up to the sky. The worst thing possible had happened; everything was lost. The man was struck with grief and anger. And he cried out “God, how could you do this to me!” Shacking his firsts to the sky.
Early the next day, however, he was awakened (frozen stiff) by the sound of a ship that was approaching the island. It had come to rescue him.
“How did you know I was here?” Asked the weary man of his rescuers. “We pass by here every three days” said the man “and we saw your smoke signal”.
The point is clear. It is easy to get discouraged when things are going badly. But we should fear, because God is often at work in our lives, even in the midst of pain. Paul wrote, “I have learned to be content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, living in plenty or in want” (Phil. 4:12). Remember next time your little hut is burning to the ground – what you think of as the worst thing possible may just be the smoke signal God is using to save you.
Song: Sing a new song unto the Lord (422)
Scripture readings: Psalm 98 & Luke 21:5-19
Response: Thy word is a lamp unto my feet
Message: Singing a New Song
The book of Psalms is much beloved. In fact, it is generally considered the most widely read book in the world. Who hasn’t heard “I lift my eyes to the hills; where does my help come from?” (121) or “Be still and know that I am God. (46) or “Better is one day in your courts than thousands elsewhere” (84) or “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it” (118) or what about… “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.” (23)?
Truth be told, I could go on and on, and most of us would probably recognize a line or two from each of the 150 Psalms in our Bibles. They stick with us. And they tend to come to mind right when we need them most.
While some debate exists about the book of Psalms, the collection as it presently stands took at the very least 400 years to construct, and many believe it took 980 years (from Moses to Solomon). The book has various writers. Most of the psalms include notes about how, when, or by whom they were written.
Now, if a psalm says “from the house of David,” that doesn’t necessarily mean that David wrote it. It could mean it was written for him, by him, or from the kingly line or various other meanings. But the most traditional view is that Moses wrote one, Herman (a wise man from King David’s time) and Ethan (King David’s drummer) each wrote one, David wrote 73, Asaph (the Director of the Temple choir) wrote 12 (and includes a Selah musical notation in each one of his), the Sons of Korah (one of whom was responsible for baking meat offerings in the Temple) wrote 11, Solomon wrote at least two, and 49 of them are anonymous.
Just as a side note, the word “Psalm” is a Greek word that comes from the word psalm-terion, which refers to a type of ancient stringed instrument that resembles a harp and a guitar combined. Calling the book Psalms is sort of like calling it “Guitars”. However, the Hebrews never referred to this book as “Psalms” to begin with. They called it Tehillim, “Praises”.
Whatever you call it, it’s an incredibly complex and excellent book. And it’s the longest book in the bible.
Often it’s said that “the bible is not a book – it’s a library,” and that’s very true. Still, what’s true of the bible as a whole is also true of the book of Psalms. The Psalms are actually a collection of 5 song books, each one organized to represent one of the five books of the Torah. And it’s incredibly complex the way it’s all been woven together. Within the five songbooks, there are also subcategories of psalms: Cries for Help, Thanksgiving, Praises, Pilgrimage Songs, Wisdom Songs, and Cries for Vengeance. Songs of accent. Theologian Dr. Nicholas Page has called Psalms “the book of Mood Swings” because each chapter is a separate poem or song, composed at a different time, for a different purpose and often by a different person. Because of that, reading the book of Psalms, end to end, is like riding an emotional rollercoaster. But that’s sort of part of the amazingness of them. It’s like life. It’s like a journal. As one commentator puts it, “One day you feel like champagne and the next like crying.” We all have those ups and downs.
There are also a set number of verses that were used in particular ways within certain psalms, such as the 15 psalms of accent, which were sung – one on each of the 15 different temple steps as the people came up three times a year for worship.
The Psalm we read today (Psalm 98) is a scarce kind of Psalm that’s referred to as a “twined hymn”. It was initially intended to be read together as a set of four (96, 97, 98, and 99), where readers could see the word play, similarities, and fulfillment between 96 and 98, and 97 and 99.
In the Jewish tradition, Psalm 98 holds a special place. For thousands of years, it has been and still is read on Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish New Year). In an odd twist of fate (or more likely “providence”), it also holds a special place in Christian worship. You see, Psalm 98 was the muse for the popular Christmas Carol Joy to the World.
Like all Psalms (and proverbs as well), part of the poetry comes from this strange rhythm rather than just rhyming like many English poems do. A famous man once said that “it is as if one person writes the first part of the sentence and a second person is invited to complete it”.
The Lord is a shelter for the oppressed
A refuge in times of trouble
The Lord protects everyone who follows him
But the wicked follow a road that leads only to ruin.
The Lord is my light and my salvation
Whom shall I fear?
There is a kind of quiet dignity, especially in the King James translations, which tends to capture more of the poetic nature than other translations do.
Of course, in Hebrew, there is also a hearty amount of wordplay at work.
W.H. Bellinger Jr. states that Psalm 98 is about how God brings order out of chaos (pg. 138). J. Clinton McCann, Jr. says it’s about the Lord’s Reign over all things made manifest (pg. 153), and he especially notes that all the things that are said to be on the horizon in Psalm 96 (and are spoken about in the past tense) find some fulfillment in Psalm 98.
I like what Walter Brueggemann (one of my favourite theologians) says about it. He writes, “This is an enthronement Psalm whereby the temple trumpet is blown and every created thing, Hebrew or not, is called to worship and adore the LORD. It includes everyone. And – It is a massive summons to praise” (pg147).
I like that… “It includes everyone. And – It is a massive summons to praise”.
The Psalms are incredibly woven together for specific purposes. And it took between 400 and a thousand years to intertwine them and produce what we have before us today. But sometimes it’s good to remember that no matter how complex things are. Some things are actually straightforward at heart. Recently, Dorothy Henley reminded me of that. At heart, Psalm 98 is relatively straightforward.
Sing to the Lord a new song,
For he has done marvellous things;
His right hand and his holy arm
Have worked salvation for him.
2 The Lord has made his salvation known
And revealed his righteousness to the nations.
3 He has remembered his love
and his faithfulness to Israel;
All the ends of the earth have seen.
The salvation of our God.
4 Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth,
Burst into jubilant song with music;
5 make music to the Lord with the harp,
with the harp and the sound of singing,
6 with trumpets and the blast of the ram’s horn—
Shout for joy before the Lord, the King.
7 Let the sea resound, and everything in it,
The world, and all who live in it.
8 Let the rivers clap their hands,
Let the mountains sing together for joy;
9 Let them sing before the Lord,
For he comes to judge the earth.
He will judge the world in righteousness.
And the people with equity. (NRSV)
The Psalm says, “Sing a New Song unto the Lord, for marvelous things God has done.“
He writes, “Don’t be afraid. Do something big… something new!”
I love Max Lucado. He is a renowned Christian writer who has published over 100 books to date. Christianity Today called him “America’s new Pastor,” and he’s actually the writer of that children’s book I read a few weeks ago, the one about the little wooden gimmicks that put dots and stars on each other.
Anyway, Max tells this remarkable story about a woman who had a parakeet named Chippie.
He says, “The woman loved Chippie because he was such a happy little songbird. Chippie’s constant chirping just seemed to brighten her day.
One day, the woman was cleaning the bottom of Chippie’s cage as she always did with a vacuum cleaner, when the telephone suddenly rang. She reached for the phone without removing the nozzle of the vacuum cleaner from the cage, which was a mistake. As you can imagine, the vacuum cleaner nozzle got pointed in the direction of poor little chippie, and Slurp the little singing songbird Chippie was suddenly sucked up into the machine, down the hose and into the whirling tornado below.
When the woman heard the strange sound, she looked back at the cage and realized what had happened, and she was horrified. She dropped the telephone, turned off the vacuum cleaner and ripped open the dust bag to rescue her poor little bird friend. Chippie was an absolute mess, but he was still alive, thank God. So, she raced to the kitchen sink and turned the water on as quickly as she could and lo and behold, cold water came blasting out of the faucet – full force – and on little Chippie’s tiny, shocked body.
And of course, the more she tried to wash him, the worse he looked. Oh Now! She thought, realizing now what she’s done. And Ah Ha! She felt a sense of accomplishment as she learned how to fix the problem. And so she raced Chippie to the bathroom and proceeded to dry her little singing friend Chippie with her hair dryer – full force – and on high heat. She stopped when she noticed the odd smell of singed feathers.
Finally, she got the bird dry and put him back in his cage, still half dirty.
Several days later, a friend called and asked how Chippie was doing. “He’s alive,” she said, “but he just sits in his cage and stares out into space. And” she added thoughtfully, “Chippie doesn’t sing much anymore”.
We all know people who are a lot like Chippie. We know people who once had a song in their hearts. However, due to circumstances (mostly beyond their control), they discovered that “life stinks” – sometimes. As a result, they aren’t singing much anymore, and if they do, they’re too scared to sing something new. Have you ever felt a little like Chippie? Have you been abused by people you loved (it doesn’t matter – on purpose or by accident)? Have you been sucked up into something terrible, been blasted by something cold, faced a fire that singed? Have you lost your desire to sing something new?
As Chippie found out, there are no “quick fixes”. Healing takes time. But there is someone who can give you back your song and restore your joy. “Sing a new song unto the Lord, for he has done marvellous things”, says the Psalm.
The trick is not to let your troubles stop your joy. Not to let the fog of difficult times mask your view of the one who can see you, though. The Psalmist had known tough times, but he (or she) wasn’t going to let that stop the songs from coming.
According to the Psalm, we are to “Shout with Joy”, to praise him with “harp” and “trumpet”. That all creation is called to praise… that the lapping of the seas is really clapping for God and that the wind in the highest mountains is like a song for God. And that all that is, and every person that is, is invited to sing a new song unto the Lord. So when you get right down to it. As complex as this all might seem to be… It’s really pretty simple. No matter what you face, face it with the Lord. “Sing a new song unto the Lord”.
The only question now is, “What kind of new song will you sing”? Amen ‘
Song: To show by touch and word (763)
We respond to serve God
Our time of giving
Prayers for ourselves and others
God, you know us — the messy, tired, hopeful people we are. Thank you for sticking with us through whatever season we’re living in. Thank you for the small, saving things: the hot coffee that wakes us up, the neighbor who waters our plants, the friend who texts at just the right time. Thank you for the people who make our lives steadier than we deserve.
I’m bringing these gifts in gratitude — money, time, things I can offer. Use them where they do the most good. Let them feed people who are hungry, warm a body that’s cold, and remind someone they’re seen. I don’t want to give to score points; I want to give because you give to me.
I have to be honest. I’m not proud of all my choices. I choose comfort instead of courage. I say “I’ll do that” and then life gets full and I don’t. I have shrugged off a call I knew I should’ve taken. I have let resentment sit in my chest like a rock. Forgive me for the small cruelties and the big ones. Help me name where I’ve failed and do the work to fix it — to make that phone call, to show up at that hospital bed, to apologize when I’ve been sharp.
We live in a place of plenty and I am grateful for that. But I also feel guilty sometimes when I look by the window and see not everyone has enough. There are families who don’t know where the next meal will come from, neighborhoods trying to rebuild after fire and flood, people with empty cupboards and full bills. It feels overwhelming. Teach us practical ways to help: who to call, what program to support, which neighbor to bring a casserole to. Give us eyes to see and hands ready to act.
We need to be honest about the things we don’t want to face. There are communities here that carry deep hurts — Indigenous communities who have been wronged, newcomers who escaped violence and now meet suspicion, people who are made small by prejudice. I want to do better than post the right thing online. Help me to listen more than speak, to support real reconciliation work even when it’s slow and uncomfortable, and to stand up when I see someone treated unfairly.
There are people I love who are sick or alone. I’m scared for them sometimes. I don’t know what to do, and that makes me want to hide. Help me not to hide. Teach me the simple things that matter — a hand to hold, a meal, a short prayer. Let my small acts be real comfort.
I worry too about the bigger things: climate change, systems that push people into poverty, the way our politics can harden people’s hearts. Give me the courage to talk about those things with neighbors, to support policies that protect the most vulnerable, and to live in ways that make a difference for the earth we borrow for our children.
Thank you for the doctors and researchers, the nurses, the paramedics, the mental‑health counsellors — the people who show up and keep going. Bless them with patience and rest. And please be close to the ones who wait for diagnosis or treatment. Bring clear answers, steady hands, and relief.
I want to be someone who shows up. Don’t let me be the person who has a plan but never follows through. Push me toward real, practical kindness. Give me a list of two things I can do this week and the strength to actually do them. Let my faith be more than words — let it be the shape of my days.
I’m not perfect. I will probably mess up. When I do, make me humble enough to come back, apologize, and try again. Keep me honest and gentle with myself and others.
And in all of this, remind me of your presence. Not a distant idea, but a real, steady presence. When nights are long and answers seem thin, let me feel that you are close. Let me hear a word of hope in ordinary moments — a child’s laugh, a bird song, a neighbor’s wave. Let those reminders feed me when I’m weak.
God, make us a people of small, persistent love. Let our ordinary choices — the ones nobody applauds — be the way your work gets done. Help us to keep our eyes open for opportunities to be kind, and our hands ready to act. Amen.
Song: To God be the glory (350)
Sending out with God’s blessing
May you have courage to do the small, hard things that show love.
May you have patience when answers are slow and grace when people fail.
May you have sharp eyes for the needs around you and ready hands to help.
May you have a calm heart in the middle of noise and a steady breath in the face of fear.
May you have friends who hold you up and wisdom to ask for help when you need it.
May you have rest that restores, work that matters, and faith that keeps you moving.
May you go this week knowing you are held, and may the God of courage, compassion, and peace go with you. Amen.
Response: Benediction (as you go)
Music postlude
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Numbers in brackets after a song/hymn indicate that it is from the 1997 Book of Praise of the Presbyterian Church in Canada. Those and other songs are being used in accordance with the specifications of Dayspring’s licensing with One License (3095377) and CLC (A735555).
The Rev. Brad Childs retains the copyright (© 2025) on all original material in this service. As far as Brad Childs is aware, all of the material that has not been attributed to others is his own creation or is in the public domain. Unacknowledged use of copyrighted material is unintentional and will be corrected immediately upon notification being received.
Video recordings of the Sunday Worship messages can be found here on our YouTube Channel.