http://www.lifechurchknoxville.com/

Life Church Knoxville, 1015 Cedar Lane, Knoxville, TN (2026)

03/29/2026

Good Morning Life Church! Catch either our 9:30 or 11 am service today at https://www.lifechurchknoxville.com/

03/22/2026

Reminder! You can find our livestream today on our website at https://www.lifechurchknoxville.com/

01/24/2026

One service at 11:am Sunday January 25. The parking lot is salted and ready. If you are unable to attend you can watch at Life Church Knoxville on Facebook. Thank you and stay safe and warm!

10/23/2024

I’m aware that I haven’t posted much lately. I’ve always had a fickly relationship with “the muse.” I often self-reflect at times when my writing is quieted. I promise the reason for my silence is not that have nothing to write about. Every day I am confronted with “wonder” worthy of reflection. One practical reason is that this is my busiest season. Rideshare drivers in the Fall are like farmers in harvest time. Most days there is zero down time between rides. Football season, beautiful weather, and the University being in session come together to make it our most profitable time of the year.

If I’m honest, however, its probably more than that. I have sort of opted out of this election cycle. All of the media outlets seems stuck in an endless loop about the upcoming election. I don’t think like the typical evangelical Southern pastor so I mostly focus on that which is permanent and transcends all the cycles of the politics du jour of the evangelical church.

One particular rider from last week, however, won’t escape my mind. I begin my driving day by listening to a daily devotion from Great Britain called “lectio 365. Its part of The International Prayer Movement. I love it because its ecumenical and celebrates the Protestant and Catholic. I also love it because unlike the American evangelical church, it focuses a lot on “Justice.”

The day was October 18 and the devotion was celebrating Anti-Slavery Day. The woman giving the devotion was herself a victim of abuse and found freedom after her conversion to Christ. She has subsequently spent her career working against slavery in all its forms. Her words were still ringing in my ears when my Uber app called me to a street in a poor working-class neighborhood of Knoxville.

The young girl that came out of her house wore a brand-new uniform with the unmistakable symbol of Amazon on the front. Her hair was neatly kept with braids in perfect rows lining her head like the Illinois rows of corn I grew up around. She smiled as she got in my car. Her name was one of those unique names that are hard to pronounce from just reading them, but I did my best to say her name correctly.

“Did I get it right?” I asked.

“Close “ she grinned as she helped me with the correct pronunciation.

I intentionally repeated it correctly several times. We all like to hear our names pronounced correctly. I meet a lot of people who mispronounce Kamala Harris’s name on purpose as a put down. It’s a sign of disrespect that betrays a lack of basic human kindness.
I commented on my rider’s new uniform and she proudly told me about her new job at Amazon. “Do you load trucks?’ I asked. Most of the people I drive to Amazon “pick” products from the warehouse to put them in vans or trucks for delivery.

“Oh no. I’m a driver,” she said proudly. I drive one of those vans around Knoxville until I’m done with my route.

“Were you already a driver when you were hired?” I asked.
“No, I just wanted a little higher wage and they trained me.”

Her phone rang stopping our conversation. It was clear she was talking to a friend. I tried not to eavesdrop, but it would have been rude for me to turn on the radio while she was talking. I could only hear her side of the conversation.

She told her friend about her day in court yesterday. She got an order of protection from a man who approached her sexually. To make matters worse, he lives with a family member. She told her friend that she received her order of protection, but the family has cut her off. She said the only reason she came to work today was to keep from crying at home all day.

Her heart wrenching story somehow combined with my devotion that morning about those who were coming out of slavery. Something rose up inside me as I saw the paradox of this girl in her clean new uniform beginning a great career while at the same time escaping from unspeakable horrors.

She finished her call just as we were pulling in. I’m not sure what came over me but I turned my head all the way around to look at her face.

“I just want you to know how proud I am of you,” I said. I’m a dad and you are on a great track right now. You are going to do something great in life. I hear it in your voice with your great personality and I see your initiative to make your life better. You are amazing,” I said as I repeated her uniquely beautiful name. “Amazon is lucky to have you.”

A broad smile formed across her face. “Thank you,” you said. “That means a lot.”
“Keep up the good work!” I said. “Your future is bright. I’m going to pray for you. Look out world. Here she comes.”
She got out of the car grinning from ear to ear. It seemed like she had a little extra spring in her step. Another former slave was skipping her way towards freedom.

06/19/2024

"For forty years I led you through the wilderness, yet your clothes and sandals did not wear out." (Deuteronomy 29:5)

Ping. My GPS led me to a familiar apartment building in downtown Knoxville. The young lady who entered my car was wearing a Zaxby’s uniform and the “destination” address on my Uber app confirmed that I was taking her to her work on Clinton Highway. She got in my back seat and quickly put on her headphones. That is the international symbol for “I’d rather not talk.”

I was relieved, because I didn’t want to talk either. This was about my twentieth ride of the day and I was running on fumes. I turned on mind numbing sports radio and listened to the announcers debate who they thought the Tennessee baseball team would have a better chance against in their next game of the World Series. I made the ten-mile drive and dropped her off with a friendly, “have a great shift.”

Nothing about me or the passenger were remarkable during this ride. The ride, however, was quite significant. As soon as I dropped her off, I looked at my odometer which read 300,007 miles. Somewhere on Interstate 275, my Prius quietly crossed the 300,000-mile threshold. I have given right at 12,500 rides over the past seven and a half years. About ten thousand of those were in this Prius.

When I purchased her she had about 80,000 miles on her. The biggest concern with hybrid cars is how long the hybrid battery will last? I don’t know the answer to that because it hasn’t given me a bit of trouble. My trusty Toyota has no maintenance needs beside oil changes, tires, and headlights.

We pulled into Knoxville in 2012, the same year my Prius was coming off the assembly line. I would not meet her for another six years. I bought her after my first Prius was totaled in a head on collision with a driver who had fallen asleep and turned right into me. My passenger and I were not seriously hurt, but it took awhile for driving to feel safe for me again.

Our time in Knoxville has not been about prosperity. Relaunching a church is not for the faint of heart. I wasn’t sure I would survive the first several years. Just as we were starting to make progress at the church, Covid hit. It reminds me of a saying my grandfather Bird used to say. “We were dirt poor, then The Depression hit.

The church, however, has been incredibly resilient. Our building is quite small which has stunted our growth for years. For Christmas 2023, my daughter Natalie surprised me with a model of what a new church building on our present property could look like. She even had a flyover slide show of what was possible.

Her gift lit a fire under me and I cast the vision to our elders and the church. The people got behind the idea and last Fall we asked for three-year pledges to build a church that would be a place of welcome and community transformation.

The sacrifices our small congregation is making is humbling. My Prius wanted in on the action. She pledged one hundred percent of the proceeds of all her Uber and Lyft rides or until she reached the financial amount that those three years should produce. Our church pledged $300,000 dollars over the next three years as seed money for the new building. Its been only eight months since we made those pledges and just last week we had already raised over half of the funds. If things continue as they are now, we plan to break ground in the Spring.

My Prius has already earned about half of the amount that she pledged as well. Much of the success of that is that she just won’t wear out. I’m not about to trade my Prius in. Who would want a car with 300,000 miles on it? Instead, I’m hoping for 400,000 miles and in my craziest moments I’ve asked God for half a million miles. She is still giving me around fifty miles to the gallon. God has been faithful to my family and our church. Nothing demonstrates that better than my 2012 Toyota Prius. Pray for us, our church, and my Prius. Somehow, they are all linked together.

Today is my day off so my Prius got a much-deserved break. Tomorrow morning she will be back at it early. If you see her around, give her a honk. She’s doing the Lord’s work.

06/12/2024

13 All these people died still believing what God had promised them. They did not receive what was promised, but they saw it all from a distance and welcomed it. They agreed that they were foreigners and nomads here on earth. 14 Obviously people who say such things are looking forward to a country they can call their own. 15 If they had longed for the country they came from, they could have gone back. 16 But they were looking for a better place, a heavenly homeland. That is why God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. Hebrews 11:13-16

“Hero” is not a word I’m comfortable with anymore. I’ve lived too long, seen too much, and been disappointed by countless living legends who ended up being mere mortals. I’m not sure I even want heroes anymore. It’s the flaws in one another that help us to connect to one another.

But John Fergason was a guy who somehow escaped my deficiency detector. I guess I just didn’t know him well enough. After all, I only met him in person once. It was an Uber ride that I will never forget. It was a typical afternoon of taking commuters home from their work shifts when my GPS directed me to South College. I picked up John, a visiting professor and took him to the airport. John made an oversized impression on me during that serendipitous ride.

After some small talk, I learned that he was Chief of Prosthetics at Brooke Army Medical Center. He was very humble about his work. To explain his job in a nutshell, he makes the lame to walk. John specialized in giving hope and mobility to soldiers who had lost limbs in catastrophic circumstances. His job is part scientist, part engineer, and part motivational coach.

Once, he found out I was a pastor, however, the conversation shifted. Not only was John a scientist and an engineer, but he was also a very devoted follower of Jesus. He took an interest in my work and seemed fascinated that I supported my ministry habit by giving rides to people.

Before he got out of the car, we prayed together and imagined that when he returned to Knoxville in the future, we would meet again. We exchanged phone numbers and “friended” one another on Facebook. John often wrote encouraging responses to my posts.

This past Fall I noticed a response to a post I had written about my daughter’s good progress with cancer. He thanked God for me and let me know that he was also battling cancer. In a phone conversation he filled me in on the details. What was supposed to be a routine tumor removal was revealed to be inoperable metastatic cancer when the surgeon tried to remove the tumor.

John battled cancer with traditional methods until their effectiveness was exhausted. John is very athletic and pushed his body to exercise and eat cancer fighting foods. At the center of his fight against the disease was prayer. John gathered an army of prayer warriors from around the country. Every Sunday night he led a Zoom call filled with prayers and encouragement and hope. Sunday nights are usually busy for me but on two occasions I was able to join the call.

John was always honest about his present condition but was also filled with faith and hope that God could heal him. He understood the sovereignty of God while also believing in the miracle working power of God. John has an incredible wife Karen and amazing children and his will to live was tenacious.

Even during his own setbacks, he praised God with me as my daughter’s cancer was removed. Hero is not an easy word for me, but it’s the only side of John I got to see. He never cursed God because of his cancer. As his body dwindled away, he became even more at peace. He spent major parts of his day listening to hymns.
Last Tuesday, he texted me with heavy news. His weight had dropped to eighty pounds and breathing was becoming difficult. He let me know that his wife had given him permission to let go and go on to heaven. He confessed, however, that he still wasn’t ready.

Just yesterday, I received a text from John. It simply said, “John is now fully restored in the arms of Jesus.” (Karen)

“Hero” is not an easy word for me. If ever I knew a man that earned that title, however, it was John. The New Testament book of Hebrews reflects on these types of people who remained faithful in spite of not having their prayers answered in the way that they hoped. In inspired writing, the author of Hebrews simply says about them, “the world was not worthy of them.” The New Living Translation says, “they were too good for this world.”

I checked in on his page. I saw a post from a soldier named Jay Limp who was standing next to John on his artificial leg. He writes…
“We lost a great one. This man right here is John Fergason. He was my first prosthetist and he inspired me from the first time I put on a prosthetic leg🦿 that I will be able to walk again and I was going to be just fine.

Thank you John for helping me and so many other wounded veterans to get back on their feet again. It’s because of people like you that us wounded veterans still believe there are amazing people out there who care.
Watch us from above because we got it from here…
Much love” This soldier speaks for over a thousand whose lives were changed because of John.

“Hero” is a big word for me John. I had dig it out from a pile of extinct words and brush it off. I just can’t seem to find another word that fits.

John Fergason, my hero.

03/29/2024

Preaching is a bit like giving birth every week. I mean no disrespect to the women who brought us into this world with great pain and suffering. I simply mean that there is a process where the minister gets pregnant with a passage early in the week and suffers a measure of discomfort until the message is delivered on Sunday. Mondays are a day of mild postpartum depression until repeating the process again.

This past Tuesday night I was wrestling in the night with the Sunday text. I chose to preach a “Passion Good Friday” sermon instead of Palm Sunday. I told our staff that I wanted the beginning of the service to feel like Palm Sunday and the end of the service to feel like Good Friday. To put it another way, I told them I wanted to move from Red Bull to Kleenex.

I think it is important to focus on “the passion” before celebrating Easter. Otherwise, we go from Palm Sunday to Easter without contemplating the cross of Jesus.

The detail of the “passion” that was working on me that Tuesday night was a detail that all four gospels include. It is an offer by Pontius Pilate to release one of the Jewish prisoners at the Passover. Pilate asked the crowd if they wanted him to release Jesus, “king of the Jews.”

“Give us Barabbas!” was their angry response.

With my limited knowledge of the Greek language, I rolled the word “Barabbas” around on my tongue. I remembered that “bar” means “son of” I also remembered that “abba” means “father” Barabbas means “son of the father.” That would be a strange name. It begs the question. What is Barabbas' first name if he is the son of the father. I literally grabbed my phone beside my bed at 3:00am and googled “what was Barabbas’ first name?” Google directed me to this passage in Matthew 27 from the New International Version.

“At that time they had a well-known prisoner whose name was Jesus Barabbas. So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, “Which one do you want me to release to you: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus who is called the Messiah?”

What? According to this passage, Barabbas’ first name is Jesus. You may never have noticed this before because must translations leave this detail out. They leave it out for good reason. In most of the ancient Greek texts, Barabbas first name is left out.

The NIV translators, however, makes a good case for its inclusion. His name “Jesus” is found in later copies of the Greek text. The translators argue that its more likely that a “scribe” left the name out of an early Greek copy because he couldn’t allow Barabbas to have the same name as our Lord. They also note that there is no use for the phrase “who is called messiah” unless Jesus the son of God was being compared to Jesus, son of the father. There is also a indication that Origen, one of the early church fathers just after thought Barabbas’ name was “Jesus.” I can’t say definitively that Barabbas’ name was Jesus, but it really doesn’t matter. The people were looking to Barabbas to be their Savior which is what “Jesus” means.

We know a little about Barabbas from the four gospels. We know he was notorious, a murderer, a bandit, and an insurrectionist. He was going to save Israel, “by any means necessary.” He had lots of followers on Instagram. Everybody in Friday's angry mob knows him. In the image I chose for Barabbas he looks rugged from fighting. The look on his face suggests that the “the other guy” in the fight probably looked worse.

Jesus, the Messiah, on the other hand looks abused and defenseless. His plan is not near as sexy as Barabbas’ plan. This Jesus shut his mouth when he was reviled. When offered a narcotic of vinegar and gall he suffered willingly instead of numbing the pain. Instead of being bitter, he forgave the sins of the whole world.

He is not an attractive Messiah. “We hid, as it were, our faces from him.” We walked away. We tend to like our Saviors loud, defiant, and violent.

The Sunday service ended with Terry Able singing Twila Paris’ version of “Lamb of God.” Silently a man in first century garb made his way down the aisle to the cross and changed the purple linen to black. A hush fell over the audience as all the lights were extinguished except for a spotlight on the cross now draped in black. We were left to contemplate one burning question:
Which Jesus Will You Choose?

03/28/2024

“I have been very eager to eat this Passover meal with you before my suffering begins.” (Luke 22:15)

Charlie and I were unlikely friends. He was man of worldly man of Science and I was a man of the cloth. I met him at a gym in Murphysboro, Illinois. Everybody knew Charlie. He was a bit of an overachiever for this sleepy town of 8,000 people.

Charlie had been very successful in life as a geologist working for oil companies. He possessed an impressive collection of rare and exotic rocks from around the world. He traveled the world from Asia to Antarctica. And after seeing it all, he retired and settled down in our region that time forgot.

He didn’t seem very interested in my religion, but he took a liking to me. He invited me to his expensive eccentric home. He had rocks everywhere in his hidden abode.

We sat at his table while he regaled me with stories of his world travels. When he finished, I told him that I had won an Eli Lilly grant for a Sabbatical and would be traveling to London.

“London is one of my favorite cities!” he gushed. He reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. “Here is a hundred dollars. I want you to take your family to a pub called The Swan and order the fish-n-chips.” Then I want you to learn about the history of The Swan. I had my curiosity piqued.

A few months later, my wife and three children arrived in London and settled into our hotel in the Notting Hill neighborhood. I got on the internet and discovered we were staying within walking distance from The Swan. Our first meal out after getting over jetlag was in this several centuries old pub. It had been an old “coaching” Inn where one could tie up his horse and have a meal.

The fish n chips were delicious, but I wanted to know the story. I didn’t have to look far. The story was prominently displayed on the wall for everyone to read. I learned that The Swan was the last stop for prisoners as they would be taken to “the gallows” to be hung. The local jailer would draw up next to the pub with the prisoner’s cage following his horse and would say, “I’ll have one for the road.” As the prisoner drank his last beer before his death, the customers at the bar would look out and say, “he’s on the wagon” meaning that he would never drink again. The terms “one for the road” and “on the wagon” are purported to have been coined at this historic inn.

Our family conversation turned somber as we thought of those prisoners enjoying “one for the road’ from The Swan. I think of The Swan every holy week. On Thursday night Jesus was with his favorite people during his favorite holiday, having his favorite meal. Thursday is the day of Holy Week we never want to end. Surely Jesus savored the Passover lamb more than ever before. I imagine Jesus enjoying the wine like a sommelier. I imagine him doing the five “s’s” of wine tasting. He sees the wine and admires the color. He swirls the wine to release the aroma into the room. He then sniffs the wine to take in the spices, fruits and age of the wine. Next, he sips the wine to determine its smoothness, sweetness, or dryness. Finally, he savored the totality of the wine.

However, this night is not about wine tasting. Its about savoring friendship, cherishing memories, and padding himself with love to embolden him towards the suffering.

Thank you Charlie for exposing me to this powerful lesson from the Swan. Even as I write, I am savoring my friendship with you.
The geologist opened my understanding to our Lord’s last Supper. Stay long dear Jesus. Stay long. For after the meal has ended, you are “on the wagon.”

03/16/2024

“Sir, we would see Jesus.” (John 12:21)

This is the lectionary passage for this week that will be preached in the Catholic cathedral, Lutheran, Methodists, Presbyterian, Anglican, and Episcopal churches on Sunday. And it will be preached at Life Church Knoxville.

This passage is at the turning point in John’s gospel. The first twelve chapters of John are “the book of signs” pointing to the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. Chapters thirteen through twenty are called “the book of glory” by scholars.

The final sign before the gospel moves into the “passion” narrative was “the raising of Lazarus.” This was the tipping point for the Jewish religious leaders. “The whole world” was going after Jesus following this unprecedented miracle.

It was in this context that some unconverted Greeks came to Philip and said, “Sir, we would see Jesus.” Presumably, they had seen him already. There was no special invite needed to hear him teach or see him perform miracles. They were asking for something more. They wanted an encounter with Jesus not a class from him. The word translated as “see” meant that they wanted to spiritually perceive him. They wanted a relationship.

Tomorrow is The Feast of St. Patrick who brought the gospel to the Irish. Like these Greeks in Jesus day, Patrick responded to what he called “the cry of the Irish.” I believe their cry was the same as the Greeks-“ We would see Jesus.”

Patrick was an Englishman who was taken captive by Irish invaders at age sixteen. While he was baptized into the church, he was not a believer. Ireland was filled with wizardry, superstition, and fear. Human sacrifice was practiced in some places.

While suffering as a shepherd slave in Northern Ireland, Patrick turned to God. He became a man of prayer. Finally, he had a vision from God to return to England. Patrick escaped after six years as a slave and returned to England. He became a priest and eventually a bishop. After twenty years, he sensed God calling him back to the place of his capture to bring the good news to Ireland.
Legend has it that he returned to the man who captured him and paid him the price of his freedom. Patrick preached about the “energy of Divine Love.” In this culture of fear they were open and desperate to hear about the love of Jesus. The message was so infectious and beautiful that each convert brought the message to their friends and family until Ireland was virtually all converted.

I believe the cry in America to our preachers, pastors, and priests is still the same-“Sir, (Ma,am) we would see Jesus.” America is turned off by the culture wars being fought in the evangelical church which is more concerned with political clout than spiritual power. America is equally turned off by many segments of the liberal church who engage in good social work, while missing out on encounters with the risen Lord.

The phrase is etched in pulpits all over the world-“Sir, we would see Jesus.” My prayer for the church are the words of St. Patrick. Patrick was alive in the fourth century long before the Protestant Reformation. He belongs to the whole church. He belongs to the Protestants as much as Billy Graham belongs to the Catholics. We belong to each other because we belong to God.
This prayer from St. Patrick may be my favorite prayer of all time. Its from a larger prayer of his called St. Patrick’s breastplate.

"Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me."

May every preacher tomorrow heed this prayer. May we not preach our denominational distinctives that emphasize our doctrinal differences. The world is calling for us and counting on us-“Sir, (Ma,am) we would see Jesus.”

03/03/2024

They have arrived in their undisclosed location in Central Asia. Life Church’s best are now a gift to the world. I knew them when it was just her. She was a college student looking for a church to attend. Ours was not the biggest, coolest, most relevant option. She was looking for something else. Instead of a clique, she found a community. Then she met him. He was also a student and came to check out his new girlfriend’s church. I’m sure it may have been her more than the church, but we landed him also.

She went on a college mission trip. She was wrecked by an oppressed people group. He also had wanderlust for the same part of the world. They got married, served our local church, and started a family. Their daughter lights the building when she walks into the building. The bug for this people group, however, never left. They consulted the elders. The submitted to a process of discernment. They more than received our blessing. Their passion was contagious. Our church has caught their vision. They successfully raised support and we sent them out.

They acquired the language in their first two years before coming home for their scheduled furlough. They had their second baby while home. We dedicated their baby to the Lord and sent them out with tears. They just returned to begin their work. They will teach English, and serve these people. However, they are not simply going to give. They are going to learn and receive from these beautiful people. They will live in conditions that most of us would not choose to live in. They are leading with love and will have a ready answer for the hope that lies within them. Our congregation could not be more proud of them. This is the church.

Life Church Knoxville

03/29/2026

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