1st Christian Church, Lovington, IL

06/03/2026

Christ Pantry is open tomorrow, Thursday June 4th from 2-4:30 pm. 301 S County Lovington. we are open to all Moultrie County residents and residents of Arthur CUSD #305. We have meat, milk, bread , drinks, and canned goods available by the case, and snacks, boxed items and fresh romaine lettuce! I also have tons of tomato plants for your garden if anyone wants some!

05/31/2026

05/12/2026

In the spirit of Paul Harvey's "So God Made a Farmer", May Patterson wrote "So God Made a Mother" Happy Mother's Day
At the dawn of time, God needed someone He could trust to love His precious children.

And so, God made a mother.

God said, “Life will often be harsh, so I need someone with a gentle touch. Someone who can brush a tear from the downy cheek of a newborn and gauge a child’s temperature without a thermometer. I need someone who has a special knack for soothing, who can kiss away pain and soften blows. Someone who will hold her child’s hand firmly, until she forces herself to release it, tearfully, on the first day of school.”

And so, God made a mother.

“I need someone who will care enough to gather daffodils and put them in a vase, so everybody in the house can enjoy the first blooms of spring.”

“I need someone who will care enough to rummage through the mismatched sock pile, in hopes of finding a match. Someone who will make birthdays extra special, sing silly songs with her toddlers in the car, and who actually wants to go on a school field trip to the insect museum, just to experience it with her child.”

God thought, “I need someone who will play Christmas carols on the piano. Someone who will decorate gingerbread houses with the kids and wrap gifts and deck the halls for Christmas, for nothing in all my creation will be able to make Christmas as special as a mother will.”

And so, God made a mother.

“I’ll make someone who can organize playdates, piano lessons and the pantry. Someone who can find things like a lost football cleat, Dad’s keys, and ‘Bun-Bun,’ her little girl’s favorite stuffed bunny. I need someone to gather a busy family around the dinner table for chicken soup, cornbread, and sharing life together.”

“I need someone who can unload the dishwasher, pack lunches, call out spelling words, and make coffee, while bouncing a baby on her hip. Someone who will carry an array of toys, snacks, and essentials in her heavy purse, and never complain. I need someone to help with endless school projects, organize the football banquet, and say, ‘I’m proud of you,’ even when her child fails.”

“I need someone who is willing to keep going, even when she thinks she has no strength left. Someone who’ll strive to love her kids and to love their father, even more.”

And so, God made a mother.

God said, “I need someone who believes. Someone who will trust that I have a good plan for her and for her children, even when she can’t see it. Someone who will pray for her family daily, for sadly, few people will. I need someone who will share my words and encourage her children to believe in Me because I am the source of life.”

And so, God made a mother.

“I’ll place a second pair of eyes in the back of a mother’s head,” God thought. “I’ll give her bionic ears, and grant her a generous portion of laughter and tears, for she will need them both.”

“Sometimes she’ll feel like she doesn’t have what it takes. There will be days when she is overcome with worry, pain, or failure. But when the need arises, she’ll be there. And while motherhood will be difficult, she’ll come to embrace it with all of her heart.”
“Yes, I need someone who will love my children like . . . well, kind of like I do,” God laughed.

“So, I’ll give each mother a heart the size of Texas, and if she’ll let me, I’ll fill it with my special, forever-kind of love. A love that resembles my own.”

“Once I put a precious baby in her arms, she will never be the same. One day her children will grow up and move on, but she never will. A mother will fight for, and pray for, and sacrifice for her children for as long as she lives.”

And so, God made a mother.

©Copyright 2020 by May Patterson
A mother is a baby’s very first love.
Her influence lasts much longer than her life.
Her love is a living, breathing display of God’s love.

And while some earthly mothers fail, many strive to love their children well by:
• Encouraging (Heb. 10:25)
• Being appreciative (Ps. 127:3)
• Setting a good example (Prov. 20:7)
• Providing discipline (Prov. 13:24; 19:18)
• Loving sacrificially (Titus 2:4)

On Mother’s Day, our nation will pause to honor our mothers. While they aren’t perfect, they deserve appreciation for the good that they do and the love that they give.

Send a message to learn more

05/05/2026

One of the things I think people seriously underestimate about Jesus is just how intentional He was, because people absolutely love quoting that God is “slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” right up until they read about Jesus flipping tables in the temple, and suddenly it is like everyone collectively panics because that does not exactly fit the soft, sanitized, watercolor portrait version of Jesus they have comfortably framed in their minds.

We tend to imagine “slow to anger” as meaning never angry, never confrontational, never forceful, as though holiness somehow means tolerating corruption indefinitely with a polite smile. But then you get to this moment in Scripture, and Jesus is driving people out, overturning tables, scattering coins, and disrupting an entire corrupt system, and people start wondering if maybe there is a contradiction there. But the truth is, there is not. In fact, this story may be one of the clearest demonstrations of what “slow to anger” actually looks like.

Because here is the detail people often skim right past, and honestly, it changes everything: Jesus literally made the whip first. He did not impulsively snap. He did not have some uncontrolled emotional breakdown because He was having a difficult day. He did not suddenly explode into reckless rage. He sat down, took the time, and physically braided together a whip. Talk about slow to anger. That is not the behavior of someone ruled by unstable emotion. That is measured. That is deliberate. That is purposeful. Imagine being so righteously angry that rather than lashing out immediately, you calmly prepare your response. That is not anger spiraling out of control. That is terrifyingly controlled holiness. Jesus was not reacting out of wounded pride or petty offense. He was confronting the desecration of His Father’s house, a place meant for prayer, worship, and reverence that had been turned into a marketplace of greed, exploitation, and spiritual abuse.

The temple was supposed to be sacred. It was supposed to represent the nearness of God, the seriousness of worship, and the beauty of holiness. Instead, people were using it for selfish profit. Merchants and money changers had inserted greed into sacred space, exploiting worshippers and commercializing what was meant to be holy. This was not a minor inconvenience. This was not Jesus overreacting to something insignificant. This was righteous anger directed at corruption that was actively harming people and dishonoring God. And that matters, because real love does not stay passive in the face of exploitation. Real holiness does not politely tolerate abuse just to avoid making anyone uncomfortable. Real justice does not prioritize surface level peace over confronting evil.

So yes, Jesus flipped tables. Yes, He drove people out. Yes, there was undeniable force in His actions. But it was not reckless. It was not random. It was not sinful. It was holy, measured judgment. And that is where so many people misunderstand the nature of God’s anger. Being slow to anger does not mean God never expresses anger. It means His anger is never impulsive, selfish, or unjust the way human anger so often is. It means mercy comes first. Patience comes first. Warnings come first. Opportunity for repentance comes first. God endures far more than humanity deserves before judgment ever falls. But when corruption persists, when sacred things are defiled, when people are exploited, and when evil hardens itself against mercy, righteous anger is not a contradiction of love. It is an expression of it.

Because let us be honest, a God who felt no anger toward evil would not actually be loving. He would be indifferent. If God watched exploitation, abuse, corruption, and sin destroy people without response, that would not be mercy. That would be apathy. And apathy is not love. Love protects. Love confronts what destroys. Love does not shrug while evil consumes what is sacred. The same Jesus who held children in His arms, healed the sick, forgave sinners, and restored the broken is also the Jesus who braided a whip when holiness was being mocked. That is not inconsistency. That is the fullness of divine love. Mercy and justice were never opposites. They are both essential parts of who God is.

So yes, God is slow to anger. So slow that Jesus literally sat down and made the whip first. And maybe that image should challenge us more than the table flipping itself, because it reveals that God’s anger is never chaotic, never reckless, never uncontrolled. When His judgment moves, it is deliberate. It is holy. It is precise. Jesus did not lose control in the temple. He demonstrated what happens when perfect holiness, after immense patience, finally and righteously says, “Enough.” And honestly, that should not make us question whether God is loving. It should remind us just how deeply He loves what is good, holy, and worth defending. Farmer Girl

04/22/2026

Farmer Girl
There are moments in the Bible that feel like simple storytelling until you realize they are not simple at all, they are layered in a way that makes you stop mid-chapter and go, “Hold on…this feels familiar.” And one of those moments is in Genesis 22, where God tells Abraham to take his son, his only son, the one he loves, and go to a mountain He will show him. And Abraham, instead of arguing or asking for a detailed five-step plan and a backup plan and maybe a quick emotional processing session, just gets up early and goes. Genesis 22:3 says, “So Abraham rose early in the morning…took two of his young men with him, and his son Isaac. And he cut the wood for the burnt offering and arose and went to the place of which God had told him.” Which is already a lot. But then it casually mentions they brought a donkey. Just a donkey. No big deal. Except Scripture does not do throwaway details.

Because that donkey is carrying the wood. The wood for the sacrifice. Just plodding along like, “I am contributing,” with absolutely no idea it is hauling a prophetic symbol that is going to point thousands of years into the future. And then they reach the mountain, and Genesis 22:6 says, “And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on Isaac his son.” Which is where things go from “this is intense” to “okay this is very specific.” The son carries the wood. Up the mountain. The very thing meant for the sacrifice is placed on his back, and he walks. And then Isaac asks the question that probably made Abraham’s internal organs rearrange themselves a little, Genesis 22:7, “Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” And Abraham answers in Genesis 22:8, “God will provide for himself the lamb.” Which sounds like a solid, faithful answer until you realize it is also a prophecy casually dropped into conversation like that is normal.

And then God does provide. Genesis 22:13 says, “And Abraham lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him was a ram, caught in a thicket by his horns.” Isaac is spared. The sacrifice is substituted. The story ends with relief. Everyone takes a deep breath.

Except the story is not done.

Because you turn to Gospel of John and suddenly that line “God will provide” starts echoing louder. John 19:17 says of Jesus, “and he went out, bearing his own cross, to the place called The Place of a Skull.” And you just sit there for a second because…there it is again. The Son. Carrying wood. Walking up a hill. Only this time there is no confusion about where the sacrifice is coming from. This time the Son is the sacrifice.

And just in case we somehow missed it, John the Baptist flat out says it in John 1:29, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” There is your answer to Isaac’s question. “Where is the lamb?” Oh, He is coming. He has been the plan the whole time.

And then, because God does not do subtle when it comes to tying things together, we get the donkey again. Gospel of Matthew 21:5 says, “Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey.” Not a war horse. Not some dramatic royal entrance with trumpets and a parade float situation. A donkey. The same kind of animal that carried the wood in Genesis is now carrying the King toward the moment where that wood becomes a cross.

Which means the donkey is just out here minding its business in two different time periods, unknowingly participating in one of the greatest theological parallels in history. No big deal. Just casually involved in the setup and the fulfillment of salvation. Meanwhile I forget why I walked into a room half the time.

And here is the part that should hit a little harder if you let it. In Genesis, Abraham is stopped. There is a voice. There is a ram. There is relief. But at the cross, there is no interruption. No last-minute substitute. No voice from heaven saying, “That is enough, stop.” Because this time the Lamb is not provided to replace the son.

The Lamb is the Son and He walks up the hill anyway.

Carrying the wood.

For you.

For me.

For every moment we have ever wondered if God actually meant it when He said He would provide.

He did.

Just not in the easy way.

In the eternal one.