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Pentecost 2021

Pentecost by Jennifer Allison (accessed at https://pixels.com/featured/pentecost-jennifer-allison.html)

They had been told the Spirit would be given to them. They had been told they would receive power when it did, power to be Christ’s witnesses at home and beyond.

So they gathered together, waiting.

And then it happened.

On the feast of Pentecost, it happened.

That which had been promised was fulfilled.
The wind blew and filled the building.
What looked like tongues of fire came to rest on the heads of those gathered there, and they were all filled with the Spirit.

Since that moment, Christians have continued to gather and wait, hungry for the work of God’s Spirit to take place within and around them.

On Pentecost Sunday in particular, we re-tell the above story and we celebrate the work of the Holy Spirit in the Church.

Tomorrow morning we gather again at Memorial United Methodist Church (on campus and online) on Pentecost Sunday. We will wear our red colors, we will hear the Scripture read, a word preached, and we will pray with longing and hunger to see and experience the Spirit moving among us.

This will be the first Sunday with our new COVID protocols in place, the first Sunday (since we started meeting in-person again) without an RSVP requirement for services. It’s also the first Sunday with a relaxation in terms of mask wearing for those individuals who have been vaccinated.

I’m both excited and a little bit fearful, too. My brain and habits have been programmed in new ways during the last year and these changes feel like they are big.

Maybe that’s what Christ’s friends felt as they waited in Jerusalem for the Holy Spirit to come – excitement at what the coming of the Spirit might mean for them, and fear about moving into a new and unfamiliar territory. Maybe you are feeling some of that too?

Whatever we are feeling about our emerging from COVID, whether we are gathering online or in-person for church tomorrow, my prayer is the following: this Pentecost may we all know afresh the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives as she leads us in mission and ministry and as she guides our steps into the new normals of the days ahead.

Rejecting Evil

As I listened to the Psalm in my church’s Lenten devotional for today, there was one phrase that penetrated my ears more than the others. In speaking of those he or she sees as “wicked,” the Psalmist writes these five powerful words:

“…they do not reject evil.”
Psalm 36:4 (NRSV)

I am not one that spends as much time as I perhaps should reflecting on evil in the world. This is probably much to do with the privilege I have been afforded in my life – I am an educated, gainfully employed, reasonably healthy, middle class, white European and have never wanted for anything. When I have needed food, it has always been there. In fact, even when I don’t need food there is an abundance of it there and I have always enjoyed partaking of it. When I have needed access to healthcare, it has always been there either by the universal healthcare provision of my home government, or, more latterly, because I have been able to afford healthcare here in the United States. I have come through third level education to doctoral level and I carry no student debt – my education has been provided for me and paid for by employers or parents for my entire life. I live in a good neighborhood and always have. The evils of this world have rarely, if ever, come knocking at my door, hence my lack of reflection on them.

This is not to say that I am unaware of evil in the world. I am. I just don’t have it in my sights round the clock in a way that someone who is living with evil on the doorstep of his or her life might.

But these five words leapt out at me as I listened to Psalm 36 being read this morning, as they should have, because rejection of evil is 100% a foundational component in the life of a Christian.

In my own tradition (United Methodist) we hold high our understanding of baptism and what it is to be baptized. We understand that in our baptism we are called to a life of discipleship. Our baptism liturgy asks the following question (as the first of three that are asked) of those who are seeking baptism/bringing a child for baptism:

“On behalf of the whole Church, I ask you:
Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness,
reject the evil powers of this world,
and repent of your sin?”
United Methodist Baptismal Covenant I

Right there in the beginning of this holy and sacred moment is the emphasis on rejecting evil. The question follows as to what evil actually is. For many, a rejection of evil boils down to the individual rejection of personal sin. But this question is asking more than whether or not an individual is behaving themselves in life or not. Read it again: Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of your sin? This is about more than individual rejection of a sinful lifestyle that is distracting one from God. This is an invitation to reject evil powers in this world, and to reject them is both to refuse to participate in them AND to seek to dismantle them in whatever ways we can. This is why the work of anti-racism is currently front and center in the United Methodist Conference in which I serve – it is seen as a central part of discipleship in our present age and context to reject and dismantle the stronghold of racism and racial injustice in our nation and world. Of course, this is just one example of evil out of multiple examples I could land on in our times.

So when I read the Psalmist complain about the wicked in his or her world, and that they do not reject evil, I recognize that this is not a new aspect of discipleship. Rejection of evil in the world has always been a central aspect of being part of the family of God.

So how will I respond today? I can go on enjoying the privilege I have in this world and thinking very little of the evil that I quite blindly and blissfully participate in and which surrounds me each day OR I can let this word speak to me; let it call me into a new way in which I take steps forward in rejecting evil.

I think the most important thing I can do today is to read/hear this word, begin to open my eyes and recognize the evil in this world, and start anew to live into my calling as a baptized member of the household of God – to reject evil outright and work to dismantle its stronghold in my world.

How will you respond today?

When Will We All Stop Shouting And Start Listening?

The early days of social media were fun. Connecting with old friends we hadn’t been in contact with for years, seeing what had become of people since they had left school – who they had married, what they were doing for a living, etc. It was fun. Those early days were also a time when social media was a way to be and stay connected. All of a sudden I could keep up with that my old friend was doing in Sydney, Australia without having to make an expensive phone call or write a letter or email. It was just there. My eyes could be in the worlds of my friends just a little, just enough to stay in touch and to be mindful and thankful for the fabulous network of friends and family I have in my life

It was fun.
It was simple.
It was reasonably wholesome.

But it’s just not any more.

As I scrolled through one of my social media feeds recently, I stumbled upon a thread of chatter that had been started when one friend shared a piece of news and opined against it. The concept of the post itself was fair enough – a simple case of my friend having learned of an action being taken, being in disagreement with the action, and expressing it on social media. What followed was a long thread of comments, some in support of my friend’s position and some not. Most were polite as you might hope for, but one was just downright nasty and condescending. This individual had taken the polar opposite view of the piece of news, and then proceeded to speak down as if the original poster was brand new to the world with no measure of understanding as to how things ought to be, and no ability to think critically for themselves.

Social media used to be fun.
Social media used to be simple.
Social media used to be reasonably wholesome.

More recently I see it being nothing more than a hub for virtue signaling from both sides of almost any debate in which those who offer comment do so with almost no sense of care or respect for the relationship by which they are connected to the one they are debating with in the first place.

It’s exhausting.

And it is profoundly problematic because pointing the finger in a few sentences of verbiage on social media does little or nothing to ever change the mind or heart of another, which I assume is the bottom line mission of any keyboard warrior regardless of the cause they are championing.

I have been guilty of this myself. Make no mistake. I love nothing more than a good debate over a social issue. I have opinions on many matters and if I find an issue that I don’t have an opinion on, I will be very quick to rustle one up for you. Over the years I have entered into these social media interactions with aplomb only to find that they usually don’t result in any change and ultimately serve only to strengthen the personal positions of those I engaged in debate with. Why might this be? Probably because such conversations are more about our over-eagerness to speak/shout/roar at the other so to be heard and understood rather than to listen to the other so as to understand.

Social media invites us to speak as much and as loudly as we want, but it really doesn’t invite us to listen much at all.

None of this is to say that social media is singularly a great menace. No. The reason I keep my social media accounts is because the fun, simplicity, and wholesomeness of those early days is still there. I live 4000 miles from home – being connected to friends and family there is so very important to me. Social media is not a menace in and of itself, but it becomes so when we, the users, fail to take a listening posture with one another. If we continue to fail to do this then the relationships that form the very basis of our social media networks are placed at risk as we each encamp ourselves on one side or another of a matter and refuse to budge. Doing this only makes an enemy of the other and it results in zero progress.

Respectfully listening with view to learning and understanding how another individual experiences and sees the world is the most important skill we can recover in these days. It is this kind of listening that opens the door to our empathy, and it is our empathy, the ability to understand the feelings of the other, that may very well make us willing to seek change for the common good of one another – even if that change may bring with it some difficulty and struggle (what change doesn’t?) It starts with listening, and sadly I don’t think we can recover good and effective listening by communicating primarily on our social media timelines and threads. The only way we can recover the art of listening is by doing the hard work of making time and sitting with our friends, our family, and others in conversations in which we both have covenanted to listen to one another, to validate the experience of the other as genuine and to be learned from, and to find our way forward together.

Whether it is a social issue…
a religious or theological matter…
a family situation…
or…
dare I say it – a political one…

…until we can recover the art of humble listening, I fear we are doomed to continue duping ourselves by living into the notion that our shouting loudly at others from our keyboards will change them and/or the world around us. And yes, I am aware that by writing this piece and posting it on the internet and sharing it on my social media feeds I am indeed engaging in a little bit of shouting loudly from my keyboard…oh the irony!

The individual who spoke without listening in the example I cited above probably closed the door to ever being listened to or understood on this matter by the original poster. The door, most likely, has probably been firmly closed and the relationship likely diminished as a result – all because shouting loudly was valued over listening humbly.

If this is who we have become or are becoming, then God help us.

A Personal Tribute to a Wonderful Friend and Mentor.

I wanted to take a moment to tell you about my friend, Glenn, who tragically passed away yesterday.

We met just over twenty years ago when I got my first full time job. We had both been hired at the same time – me as youth development worker and Glenn as Mission Director for East Belfast Mission (EBM). Back then the EBM building was a dark, minimalist space that had been built in the 1950’s having previously been destroyed in the Belfast Blitz. As dark as the space was, I can still remember the brightness of Glenn’s demeanor that first time we met. Sometimes you meet a person and you get the impression that you want to know him or her more. I had that impression with Glenn.

We started our jobs within a week of each other, a fact I was so thankful for as the years of our friendship wore on. Having that common beginning gave us a bond from the get go.

Glenn was an outstanding mission director at EBM. He was driven and focused in terms of the administrative and visionary tasks of his work. He was also extremely pastoral, not only knowing his quite large staff team by name, but also caring for them all and showing interest in their stories. He was sharp and intelligent – well-read and thought through on anything I ever had to ask him about. And he was fun in an environment and atmosphere that absolutely needed fun.

During my three years at EBM there was not one single time when I knocked on the door that Glenn told me he didn’t have time for me. It never mattered what he was working on, if one of his team needed a moment to talk something through, or if they needed help thinking something through, Glenn was there. The laptop would be closed, he would ask if I wanted tea or coffee and the conversation would start. I am pretty sure I left every one of those conversations feeling better or thinking more clearly. Glenn had that effect as a leader and boss.

“If I am too busy to take time for you, Charlie, then I am too busy.”

I can remember him saying those exact words to me. They have stuck with me and have been central in shaping the kind of leader/manager I am with my staff team today.

I was still in my early twenties back then. I thought I had arrived when I landed my first full time youth director post at a church in the city. I thought I must have known it all and then I learned rapidly that I didn’t. One thing that became clear to me at the time was that I needed a mentor in my life and work. Someone who would guide me in the faith and in learning the community work/ministry world I was now a part of. I shared this need with another friend. I also shared that I did not know who I could invite to be a mentor in my life.

“Charlie, you work with Glenn Jordan every day. Duhhhh!”

He was right (Thank’s, Phil!)

The next week I made some time with Glenn and simply asked him if he would become a mentor for me in Christian life and in my ministry. He agreed readily and since that moment, I don’t think there has been a time in our relationship when he has not spoken to me both as friend and co-worker, but also as someone who agreed to mentor me – he has coached, counseled and comforted me at various points along the way, and always as one who I invited specifically to do so at both the best of times and at the worst of times too.

The time came for me to leave EBM as Margaret and I made our first move to the United States. Glenn and I stayed in touch by email there was no social media at that time. He ribbed me about the fact that I moved here and started to drive a Mercedes (I should add that it was a Mercedes that was made the year before I was born and had been given to Margaret and myself in Port St. Lucie.)

“You’ve sold out to American capitalism already, Charlie!” he joked.

After we moved that time in 2003, direct face to face contact with Glenn was less and less, of course, but when we returned to Northern Ireland in 2006 Glenn and I were able to pick up our face to face contact and friendship again. We’d meet for coffee on the Belmont Road in East Belfast, or for a beer in the city centre after work on a Friday evening. He was still working at EBM and they were moving towards an exciting new building vision for their entire site. Glenn would let me know about their plans and as the work started on site, he walk me through and let me see the progress being made.

It had been when I was still working there at EBM that the project was being envisioned. I can still remember when Glenn and others in charge landed on the name for the redevelopment project: Skainos. In my mind’s eye right now I can see the word scribbled on the wee whiteboard in his office and I can hear him telling me about the meaning of the Greek word and why it perfectly described what was going to take place on that site over the coming years.

Finally, when all the building work was done, he was as proud as punch of the design and architecture of it all. He would show me around and give me the stories of the thinking behind every little detail. Glenn was a storyteller, and a gifted one at that.

When I was commissioned for ministry and sent to Shankill Methodist Church in July 2010, I asked Glenn to come and preach at my welcoming service. When I heard him preach or teach from the Bible, he always caught my attention. I will never forget him preaching on the Parable of the Good Samaritan and making me and all the other listeners read from the perspective of the Inn Keeper in the story. I’ll also never forget the night Glenn led the EBM Bible Study with a session on Psalm 32. To this day, when I encounter that particular text my mind flashes back to the things Glenn taught us that night. He was a brilliant mind when it came to Bible teaching – always creative, and always courageous to think outside the box.

His time at EBM/Skainos came to a close just after Margaret and I moved back to the United States in 2013. By now, technology had advanced and we had social media accounts by which we could follow what was going on in each others’ lives. I would see the pictures of his beloved dogs taken on their regular walks along the crooked shore of the County Down coast line. I would see pictures of his kids – he was such a proud dad. I would see the pictures he would take of the various table set ups he had as visual aids for teaching the young people of his Bible class each week. I would see images of Bruce Springsteen concerts, so many images of Bruce Springsteen concerts. Glenn loved The Boss and followed him fanatically any time he would be playing shows in the UK and Ireland. I would see images of pictures taken of the pages of poetry books. Glenn loved poetry and literature and always had something quite inspiring to share with the world from what he was reading.

We would also banter each other back and forth, particularly about rugby. We both loved rugby. Glenn even came to watch me play in the 2009 final of the Forster Cup at Ravenhill in Belfast. He had no reason to come watch other than his love for the game, and our friendship. I appreciated his attendance so much

Concerning rugby, Glenn lived under the illusion that backs (shirt numbers 9-15) were the team members who captured best all of the class, beauty, and energy of the game. I, on the other hand, knew the truth. I knew that it is the forwards in the game of rugby (numbers 1-8) who not only captured all the class, beauty, and energy of the game, but who also worked 100 times as hard as the backs and gave them the platform they needed to look so good. Glenn never let up in speaking up for the backs. I would like to say that deep down he knew the truth, but I would be wrong. I and many others were never able to convince him at all of the primary importance of forwards in the game of rugby.

What impressed me so much about Glenn? What made me always want to take time with him and drink in the details of our conversations?

Glenn Jordan was the real deal. What I saw in him, I believe, was what the whole world saw, and it was what seemingly everyone found infectious about his personality. He was himself and felt no need to perform for people.

I was also always impressed by Glenn’s work. I saw it up close and personal as a colleague for three years, and I paid close attention as I observed it from distance after that. Glenn was a community worker/activist/leader/theologian who was right there with the people of the communities he served. He took time to get to know people, he connected with them, he listened and heard, he pulled them together and engaged them in conversations that at times were hard. Glenn Jordan was a community leader, theologian, and peace-builder that Northern Ireland is going to miss immensely.

As you can tell, I have many vivid memories of a great friendship with a quite fantastic man. One of them stands out more than others though. As I have alluded to above, we both loved the game of rugby. I have not mentioned that Glenn was born in the south of Ireland in Dublin. His local provincial team in Dublin was Leinster. He was a Leinster fan. But he was also an adopted son of Ulster and a fan of our local provincial team too. So when Leinster were playing Ulster in the 2012 Heineken Cup Final to determine who the champions of Europe would be that season, Glenn was rightly torn as to who he would support when he attended the game. In the most Glenn Jordan type solution possible, he had a friend take both his Ulster rugby jersey and his Leinster rugby jersey, cut them both in half, and sew a new shirt together that would represent both teams, and cover Glenn’s own divided loyalties for the day. It was brilliant. (The shirt is pictured below)

As I write this now, I can’t quite believe he is gone, and my heart breaks for Adrienne, Philippa, and Christopher, who are now left without the most wonderful husband and dad.

I have written plenty as to the best of times with Glenn. And I could write plenty more from some incredibly low times too in which he was a tower of strength and resolve for many. But I know that he wouldn’t really want me to go into any of that. “Don’t let it take up space in your head, Charlie” he would say.

To me and to many, Glenn Jordan was an incredible human, a loyal friend, a devoted mentor, wonderfully creative, truly down to earth, and committed to Godly peace and justice in the world. I will miss him and his voice in my life immensely.

Until we meet again, my friend.

Finding Holiness in the Chaos.

Below is the content of a text I wrote this morning in reply to some friends back home who have been in touch having watched UK/Ireland new reports on the chaos that is playing out in the United States.

It has been slightly edited for the purpose of publishing here

This is shared with permission of the friends I mention by name.

I’ll not lie to you lads, I am hurting deeply today.

I am a little afraid, too, with everything that is going on here, and I don’t think it is completely outside the realms of possibility that this shit could get out of hand very quickly.

I held a vigil of lament, solidarity, and hope on our church steps on Sunday night. It was a good time. And it was good for the predominantly white, middle class people of my church (which very much includes me) to be a part of. It felt righteous and appropriate, but, honestly, aside of creating a space for people to be together I am not sure that it will have made much of a difference at all.

I could be wrong. Prayer works in ways I can’t fathom. I get that and believe it.

Last night I went with my daughter to an ad hoc demonstration/protest that had been arranged on snapchat among her High School peers. To be honest, we did not want her to go along. We did not know who was organizing it, or what the aim or objective was. But as I thought about who I want her to be and how i want her to have a voice in the world, I understood that I should let her speak in this way. So Marge and I said she could go but that we would be there too. I put on my clerical collar and my #loveshowsup church t-shirt and we accompanied her.

The whole things was terribly organized. We got to where we thought we were supposed to be and there were only about four other people standing around. Then we realized that we all had got the meeting point wrong, so we walked to find the others. When we found them there were about 15-20 more who had gathered already. Then about 20 more arrived about 20 minutes later. Very late.

Typical kids. But I digress…

I stood back a little from them with Chef Mike. Mike runs the local High School Culinary program that caters our Wednesday Night Community dinners at church. His daughter and mine are class mates. Together, we were keeping an eye on things, looking out for the safety of our girls, and we chatted as the other kids gathered. We actually didn’t know if they would ever move from their meeting point and begin their march.

But then they did.

About 50-60 young people with placards in hand walked all the way along the main thoroughfare in our wee town chanting things like “Black Lives Matter”, “Silence is Violence”, “Say His Name: GEORGE FLOYD!” or “Say her name: BREONA TAYLOR!”, “I Can’t Breathe”, and “Hands up! Don’t shoot!”

They chanted together at the tops of their voices every step of the way along the five mile walk they completed.

I walked alongside them more or less every step of the way.

Listening.
Critiquing.
Grumbling.
Catching myself on.
Wising up.
Beaming with pride that my daughter wanted and needed to be part of this.

It was holy.

And then this morning Chef Mike called me out of the blue.

“Can I come see you?” He asked.

“Of course!” I replied.

He did.

He walked into my office with tears in his eyes and he opened his arms and hugged me…hugged me tight. For the next thirty minutes we talked about our experience of the night before, and how powerful and moving it had been. It literally emptied Mike in a way he had not expected – emotionally, physically, mentally. He just needed to talk. So did I.

That was holy too.

The holiness is in the chaos.

All this stuff is so very raw. It is making me dig deep and recognize the ugliness that continues to reside in me in the form of my privilege in this world.

The inner work of it all is hard.

But it is holy.

I think we need to look out for the holy in all this.

Afterword: One thing I failed to mention to my friends in the original message was to give credit and high praise to our local Police Department for the way they handled 60 young people marching down the main road of our town. They were excellent and I am grateful for the way they carry out their work in our local community.

A Vigil of Lament, Solidarity, and Hope

Tonight, I was proud and blessed to stand with several clergy from our community on the steps of the church I serve and a Vigil of Lament, Solidarity, and Hope. It was a last minute idea in response to the events of the week in the United States, but it came together well.

Below is the text of the prayer I wrote for the occasion. It was read by five local clergy brothers and sisters. Before the prayer was prayed, we read Psalm 77. Afterwards, we observed a minute of silence before closing with one more short prayer and a blessing.

In your mercy, God, heal our land!

Gracious and Almighty God, in whom we live and move and have our being. You are the creator of all things. You made humans in your image, humans of all shapes and sizes, of all colors and creeds. You made us with an immense capacity for love, kindness and compassion. But Lord, we do not always embody those qualities.

We gather here in this place, during a moment of deep struggle in our nation. We gather with heavy hearts, hearts that are burdened with grief, with anger, with pain, and with immense frustration.

We grieve at the senseless loss of George Floyd’s life.

We are angered that in our society the odds are stacked against some because of the color of their skin.

We are in pain as we are faced once more with the reality of our own brokenness; of our own complicity in the perpetuation of how things are.

And we are frustrated because events like this happen again and again and again.

We bring you our lament at the reality we are seeing

We gather to say that enough is enough!

In your mercy, God, heal our land!

George Floyd’s murder is another in a list of unjust deaths that is far too long. We bring our confessions and we seek your forgiveness.

Forgive us for failing to listen to voices that have been crying out for centuries.

Forgive us for turning a blind eye to the evil of racism.

Forgive us for the prejudice that we each hold in our own hearts, and our failure to stand up against racism when we see it.

Forgive us our own ignorance and failure to understand how we all participate in systems that have not applied justice equally or fairly for all.

Forgive us for being too eager to speak over the other and for being unwilling to listen to the experiences of those who look different than we do.

Forgive us as we gather here tonight to say that enough is enough!

In your mercy, God, heal our land!

As we watch on, the scenes being broadcast from multiple cities in our nation are harrowing to watch. Peaceful demonstrations of protest spilling over and becoming violent because of the actions of the few.

We see the frustration.

We see the years of being unheard boiling over.

We hear those cries for change.

We stand tonight in solidarity with the communities suffering most.

We stand with George Floyd’s family – uphold and sustain them in their loss and grief.

We stand with our brothers and sisters in the African American community as they continue to cry “How Long!”

And we stand with all communities and groups whose life experience makes them feel like they are always swimming upstream.

We pray for all who are gathered and present in troubled cities throughout the USA, praying for those who are there to protest, and for those who are there to protect too. Grant peace in places of protest tonight.

And for those who go to these places to stir up trouble, Lord change their hearts and take them home.

Lord, enough is enough.

In your mercy, God, heal our land!

Lord Jesus, on this Pentecost Sunday we remember that moment when your followers were gathered together in one place and experienced the coming of your Spirit in a powerful way that empowered them and commissioned them to be bearers of healing and good news in their world.

Your work among a gathered group of ordinary people was a work that would change the world and bring healing, restoration, and reconciliation in the power of the Spirit. By your indwelling, your servants are given the power to change and live transformed and renewed lives.

This is your work, Gracious God, and so we pray: do it again.

As we open our hearts to you, as we seek your transforming power in our lives, please do your work again.

We need another Pentecost!

Open our eyes to the realities and sufferings of those around us, and move us to seek changes to the root causes that bring them about.

Because enough is enough.

In your mercy, God, heal our land!

God, we have gathered to lament our current reality and seek forgiveness for our part in it.

We have gathered to express our solidarity with those who are suffering most.

We are also gathered in great hope.

You are the God who is with us in all things.

You are the God who does not run away from the chaos brought about by human sin.

You are the God whose love has been made known in the suffering and death of Jesus Christ.

You are the God of Christ’s resurrection by which we know that hope is imperishable and that death has no victory.

Help us to remember this.

Help us to remember that although the arc of human history is long, it bends towards justice.

Help us to remember that even though history’s wrenching pain cannot be unlived, when faced with courage it need not be lived again.

Grant us courage.

Grant us humility.

Grant us wisdom.

Grant us love.

In you we have great hope. Enliven our hearts to that reality and give us strength to press forward so that the dream that Dr. King spoke of will edge closer to becoming our reality.

Enough is enough.

In your mercy, God, heal our land!

Unfolding Leaves, Softening Branches, and the Importance of Keeping Watch.

Below is the text of the sermon I preached this morning at Memorial United Methodist Church in Fernandina Beach, Florida. The sermon was written based on our chosen gospel text for the week, Mark 13: 28-37 and in response to the events that came to light during the last week in America around the barbaric, racist murder of Ahmaud Arberry. I post it here as I do with other sermons I want to share more publicly and hold in place (although all my sermons since July 2018 are available on the Memorial YouTube Channel.)

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I was speaking with one of our congregation members recently on the telephone. We had been talking about a different matter and we were beginning to come to the end of our conversation. The individual mentioned to me that they thought my preaching was good, but that there was a sermon a few weeks ago in which he remembered me stepping away from my notes. “It really made a difference Pastor Charlie, I felt you really preached from the heart that day!” he said.

Of course, I hope that every word I preach to you and to anyone else comes from my heart, every week as a result of good study and preparation, but I would be lying to you if I said that the comment has not stuck with me a little and made me wonder what the difference is that that person saw that day. Is it just the absence of notes? Is it just my ability to look at a camera directly or to look a congregation in the eye as I speak?

Who knows?

I can tell you this though, as I got ready to preach today, I asked the specific question of myself: what is in your heart Charlie?

This is week nine of online worship. Speaking from my heart, I can tell you that I am fed up with it. I want you all back here. I want to gather with you. I want to hear the chatter of your voices before a service. I want to hear you singing. I want to hear you laugh a little when I make a joke in a sermon. I want to hear you give an amen at just the right time, and then again when I repeat the point and make you give me an louder, stronger and more affirming amen…

That is very much in my heart.

What else was in there?

This is week nine of this strange new normal that we have all been thrust into. Some of us are still staying in doors and some of us are rushing out to do our thing in the world again. Some people are wearing masks and some are not. Some are keeping their distance from others and some are up close and personal. I had to get gas in my car yesterday and as I was filling up, a guy came up to me and asked me the way to Jekyll Island. When I turned to him to reply, he was just a little bit too close for my comfort. The poor man wasn’t even thinking about it. I had to go to Target also to get Margaret’s Mother’s Day gift and cards – it feels weird when you have not seen that many people in one place for a few months to then see them all at once, and all way too close to each other…I was glad to get home. And as I think about that I think that this whole experience has changed me a little bit, and that it is likely changing us all somewhat.

In my heart I am struggling with this new normal. I don’t like it. I don’t know what to do with it. And I don’t know how we are supposed to be with one another any more.

It’s confusing, and annoying, and hard. That’s all in my heart today. Maybe it’s in yours too?

But I am not here to preach to you about how well or not well I am coping with the global pandemic, and you’re not here to listen to me talk about that stuff either. What else is in my heart today that I must speak?

This is the week that the world outside of Albany, Georgia heard about a young man called Ahmaud Arberry. Ahmaud would have turned 26 years old on Friday past if he had not been shot and killed in an incident way back in February. As we have learned about the story this week we have learned that the young man was just out for a run when he was chased down and murdered in a racist attack, and that someone thought it was okay to catch this all on video.

When I say I want to talk to you about what’s in my heart today, I want to talk to you about this, friends, because this story does run right to the core of who we are and of how we are with one another.

I go out for a run several mornings every week. I run freely and without a care for my safety. When I see people they wave and smile at me, or they say hello and I do the same in return. Ahmaud Arberry was not free to run the streets of a neighborhood without being looked upon by some with suspicion. Ahmaud Arberry was not free to run the streets of a neighborhood without being chased down by those who would look down upon him and who would consider his life worthless and ultimately expendable because of the color of his skin.

You might be listening right now and thinking that this does not apply to you. You don’t have a racist bone in your body. You have many black and brown skinned friends and work colleagues in your life. And that might well be true. I can say the same in my own life.

Maybe you are thinking that the preacher doesn’t need to be speaking into these kinds of matters. But church, that’s not true. We can’t sit by witnessing evil like this in the world and do nothing about it. That is not what the church of Jesus Christ does. It’s not what the church of Jesus Christ is called to. When we see suffering in the world, we roll up our sleeves and do something about it. When we see hunger in the world we do something about it. We exist to see the world transformed, to announce the good news in both word and deed, and see the Kingdom of God made real in the lives of all people. That is our call. We all want to make a difference for good in the world. When we see evil at play in our world, we must be those who are willing to do something about it. Shaking our heads and walking by on the other side of the road is not good enough. Jesus himself said that in the parable of the good Samaritan. Being silent is not good enough. The twentieth century German theologian, Deitrich Bonhoeffer said: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” Dr. King said: “He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.”

It hurts to hear that, right? It hurts me to hear it as I say it. And the chances are that it hurts us because it is true – often in the face of these things that happen frequently around us we choose silence and passive head shaking over and above doing anything about it.

That’s how I reacted this week when I heard about it. I watched that footage online, found myself disgusted and disturbed by it, and then I found myself scrolling right on by to the next thing in my feed.

But it did not leave my mind. I started to wonder what I could do that might make a difference. I could make a couple of social media posts that might raise awareness some, but would it really make a difference? Not really is the answer. I could sign an online petition and make a donation to an organization that is working every day to make against the evil of racism in the United States. Those two things might certainly make a little difference…but inside there was still this nagging feeling that something else should needed to be done. So I lifted my cell phone and I sent a text message to two of my African America brothers in ministry and humbly asked for their help in shaping a response to this that might be effective and make a difference. Anthony and Granardo welcomed my initiative and we will talk more in the days ahead.

I tell you this because signing my name wasn’t enough. Writing a social media post was not enough. Friends, I can tell you from first hand experience in my life – if there is a division in a society between human beings no bridge will be built and no difference will ever be made by sitting comfortably in our own tribes and shaking our head in lament at the tragedy of it all. We have got to talk about this stuff. We have got to get up and move towards the other, and make the rights and freedoms of the other as important and as defendable as our own.

What does all this have to do with the parable of the fig tree in Mark 13?

At the beginning of the chapter, the disciples have asked Jesus a question regarding the things that Jesus has been talking about – namely the fall of the Temple that Jesus has just foretold. “When will all this take place?” They ask. Jesus tells them that this is going to happen, and that there will be difficulty and persecution for his followers. That there will be many who will falsely claim to be the messiah. His followers are to remain alert because he has already told them everything. And they are to watch out for the coming of the Son of Man.

In the same way that they know summer is coming by the unfolding leaves and softening branches of the fig tree, so they will be able to tell when the Son of Man is coming. Mark writes these words as a word of hope for his community who are living in times of conflict and division all around them. They are to remember that they are people with purpose and their call is to remain focused and steadfast on that purpose. Heaven and earth will pass away, says Jesus, but his words will not pass away. Jesus is echoing the words of Isaiah 40 and in doing so he is showing his followers once again that he is who he says he is – the Son of Man who will come back to his people. So they are to stay focused on their purpose. They are to be alert so that they are ready when he does return.

Nobody knows when that time will be. As Jesus had said a few verses earlier, many would proclaim they were the Messiah, or they knew who the Messiah was and when the Messiah would come, but they could not know. Nobody knows that hour says Jesus – only the Father. And so the only thing that the followers of Christ can do is be about their business – the business of the kingdom, all day every day until that time. It is like a landowner who goes off on a trip, leaving his employees in charge. Their job is to keep the land going. It is to do what they are called to do until the landowner returns. He could show up tomorrow, or it could be months from now but the important thing is that they be ready, so they are to stay alert.

Church we are called to be about the business of the Landowner in this world. We are called to be about our work until the time comes for the Landowner to return, and that work is the work of easing suffering, of feeding the hungry, of giving shelter to the homeless, of being peacemakers and bridgebuilders in the world, of announcing good news of great hope for the forgiveness of sin and the freedom of Christ to experience healing and restoration, and to begin a new life in Christ. That’s who we are, and that is why we cannot sit by and passively shake our heads when we are witness to the realities of the evil of racism in our society. We must each do something to ensure that a 25 year old black man can go for a run, or drive on the roads, or go into a store in this nation without fear for his own safety and life. It is by doing these things, that we stay alert and ready for the return of the landowner at any moment.

Let’s not be found sleeping, friends.

Moving Towards the Other.

not your enemies

These last few days, I have been giving into the social media temptation of sticking my nose in places that it has no business being in, and is not going to make any difference by being there. Between halftime shows, shambolic political processes, failed electoral counts, ongoing denominational trouble in the #UMC, disappointing speeches, disappointing reactions to speeches, and the undeniable evidence of deep-rooted division in so many areas of society, I have felt burdened, wearied, and entirely mentally, spiritually, and emotionally exhausted.

Part of my exasperation with it all is that is it so hard to know how to make a difference. It is hard to know what the place of a rather ordinary preacher like me actually is in it all. Is the preacher to be passively silent? Is he or she to be more activist in response to the world around his or herself? How does the preacher, a disciple of Jesus Christ, live out his or her call in these days?

This morning, I was sat at the local coffee shop waiting on a parishioner that did not manage to make our arranged get-together. Another parishioner was in the coffee shop at the same time and so I said hello. He asked me what I would be preaching on this week at church. “Prayer.” I said. “Three weeks talking about mental health is probably enough.” (referencing the fact that last Sunday we finished a three-week series on the theme of faith and mental health). His face told me that three weeks had maybe not been enough on that topic for him. He confirmed my suspicion when he spoke: “I wanted to come and talk to you about some of that.” We kept talking and he shared some of his experience with me. I told him I would love to take time to listen some more if that would be helpful for him. He agreed it would. I assured him that I cannot fix him in any way, but that I am more than willing to “sit in the hole” with him and listen for a while inasmuch as that is helpful for him.

In being present with my parishioner in that moment, I was reminded of what it is that a rather ordinary preacher like me is to do in this screwed up age we are living in. You see, I could try to change minds with clever, fact-based argument and debate. Or I could retweet the words of that person that I agree with on a matter, as a means of using their words to express my own angst. Or I could try and shout down the loud voices of the other side. I could protest in some kind of appropriate way at the right moment in the right place in an attempt to make my voice heard. I could do all those things and they might well make some subtle difference here and there, or they might encourage someone, somewhere, in some way. But is that what is that really what the rather ordinary preacher has been called and ordained to do? As I ask that question, my thoughts race back to June 2012 and the words of my ordination service.

The following are the words used that day from liturgy used in the Irish Methodist Church ordination service each year:

“Beloved in Christ, the Church is God’s holy people, the Body of Christ, the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit.

All who are received into the Church by Baptism are called to proclaim the mighty acts of God in Jesus Christ our Saviour, and to serve him in the Church and the world.

God has called you into the Order of Presbyters among his people.

In His name you are

            to preach by word and deed the Gospel of God’s grace;

            to declare God’s forgiveness of sins to all who are penitent;

to baptize, confirm, and to preside at the celebration of the sacrament of Christ’s body and blood;

            to lead God’s people in worship, prayer, and service;

            to minister Christ’s love and compassion;

            to serve others, in whom you serve the Lord himself.

These things are your common duty and delight. In them you are to watch over one another in love.

In all things, give counsel and encouragement to those whom Christ entrusts to your care. Pray without ceasing. Work with joy in the Lord’s service. Let no-one suffer hurt through your neglect.

This ministry will make great demands upon you and those close to you, yet in all this, the Holy Spirit will sustain you by his grace.”

Today, I woke up discouraged, exhausted, and exasperated by what I am seeing and hearing in the world. I felt helpless to do anything that would make a difference. But then, in that rather chance encounter, I was reminded of what I am called and ordained to in this world – a life of being present with others, being willing to enter the pain and darkness that exists in their lives, and to listen. A life of embodying the good news of God’s great love, boundless grace, and imperishable hope for all people.

All people.

You see, a big part of my frustration and exasperation with the world these last few weeks has been the inability of people to see the world the way I see it. I have let myself fall into the trap of thinking that my way alone is the right way for all people in all times and in all places. How arrogant! And how limiting in terms of my ability to answer the call on my life! Something has to change in me with regard to this, so here is what I will be seeking to make my reality in the days ahead during what could be a very rough year.

As I encounter people, I will do so from a starting point that understands that they are doing their best with the tools they have been given. We have all inherited and subsequently developed the world views we operate within. Some worldview I love, and some I loathe. But I have yet to meet a person who is not truly doing their best to operate well from the standpoint of their world view. So, I will do my best to understand they are doing their best
I will remember that those whose worldviews are different to my own are not bad people, and that their worldviews, as much as I might disagree with them, have been considered and arrived at with as much integrity as my own. The powerful of the world continue to stoke fear and suspicion of ‘the other’ – those who see the world in a different way – and many of us get duped and play right into that game with the result that we demonize the other and end up being so frustrated by the other that relationships break down and we cease communication. I will refuse to do that. I know many people who view the world differently from me, and I still love them. Many of my friends think differently on social issues, on theology, philosophy. They think differently, but they are not bad people. In fact, they are good people offering so much to the world by living their lives well, and I still love to spend time with them because they are my friends. I refuse to demonize my friends simply because they are seeing and interpreting the world through the tint of a different lens.
I will move towards ‘the other.’ The way of our world in recent years seems to encourage staying firmly in one’s own camp; to retreat to the company of those who see the world the same way one sees it. The negative impact of doing so is two-fold:
1. We end up never talking to anyone, about these things, who might hold a different view to the one we hold ourselves. This means that we end up never having our own worldview challenged and tested. We never have to defend it. That’s unhealthy.
2. We create enemies of those who are not in our camp for no other reason than that they think differently than we do. This is remarkably unhealthy for us as individuals, and even more so for our society

So I will move towards those who exist in a different camp from my own. I will refuse to wait in the middle for them to come meet me, and choose instead to step over the invisible line that has been drawn in the sand to meet with them. Why? Because that’s what God did for me. In Jesus, God moved towards me. In Jesus, God stepped over the line. In Jesus, God refused to wait for me to come to Him. It follows that if I am to be a disciple of Jesus it will involve me stepping over the line and following him in moving to the other. As Rep. John Lewis said at the National Prayer Breakfast this week “We must believe in one another, we must never give up on our fellow human beings.” I refuse to give up on my fellow human beings.

In America, and other parts of the western world, we are speeding down to the road to ruin because we continue to give into the temptation of demonizing others. Continuing down this road will leave us irreparably divided, and as Jesus said himself, “If a house is divided against itself, it cannot stand.” (Mark 3:25). I refuse to be a part of the continued division of our communities, nation and world, and I will double down on my personal efforts to be a relationship builder and reconciler in my world.

You Are Not Alone.

You Are Not Alone In January 2020, I preached a three week series on the topic of faith and mental health. Over the course of the three week series I broached the topics of addiction, suicide, and depression/anxiety. Below is the text of the second sermon of the series entitled, “No Way Out,” which looked at the subject of suicide.

The most difficult part of preparing sermons to preach into these areas was ensuring that they remained as sermons and did not become mere public service announcements. I hope I managed that.

As with all my sermons, what you are going to find below is the general script I followed. The script will always be close to what was finally preached in the sermon, but there also will always be those last minute edits, and inspired moments when something was added to the script. To get those, you might want to check out the video of the sermon, which you can find here.

Each of these sermons was opened with video of an interview I had recorded with members of our church who are mental health professionals. The one for this sermon can be heard in the sermon video above or it can be seen on its own here.

Thank you for taking the time to read.

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You Are Not Alone.

We have reached the last of our three week series on faith and mental health. In the last two weeks we have explored the areas of addiction and suicide. My hope is that we have had our collective awareness raised as to the sheer volume of people in America who are live life in an on-going battle with their mental health. I have shared numbers and stats with you to paint a picture of the numbers of people around us who battle addiction and who are impacted by suicide.

Another hope in preaching this series has been that not only will we know the numbers about this stuff, but that we will take a moment to think about mental health struggles in the context of our faith. I hope we have realized in the last couple of weeks that no-one is immune to mental health difficulties. If one thing has been confirmed to me by the conversations I have had at the door after worship these last couple of weeks, it has been that this stuff is as real for people of faith as it is for anyone else. Our Christianity does not protect us, or those closest to us from the possibility of having our own struggles and issues mentally.

Finally, my hope is that we have taken the elephant in the room and we have started a conversation about it. The stigma around these things is colossal and it creates a barrier to ourbeing a help to one another. Friends, my hope is that you know now more than you ever knew before that your church is a place where it is indeed safe to seek help if you are struggling in life. Churches have had a reputation in times gone by of being places where everyone looks their best and appears as if there is nothing to worry about in their lives. I hope you know that your church is a place that understands that real life happens, that struggle is real, and that being part of a grace filled family matters if we are to face the struggles.

This week I want to start the conversation about depression and anxiety.

As of 2017, 300 million people around the world have depression, according to the World Health Organization.
According to datafrom the 2017 National Survey on Drug Use and Health, 17.3 million adults in the United States—equaling 7.1% of all adults in the country—have experienced a major depressive episode in the past year.
11 million U.S. adults experienced an episode that resulted in severe impairment in the past year.
Nearly 50% of all people diagnosed with depression are also diagnosed with an anxiety disorder.
It’s estimated that 15% of the adult population will experience depression at some point in their lifetime.

Here are the most recent depression statistics in children and adolescents:

1 million young people between the ages of 12 and 17 have experienced at least one major depressive episode in the past year in the United States.
2% to 3% of children ages 6 to 12 may have serious depression.
20% of adolescent girls have experienced a major depressive episode.
8% of adolescent boys have experienced a major depressive episode.
71% of adolescents who experienced a major depressive episode in the past year experienced a severe impairment.
60% of children and adolescents with depression are not getting any type of treatment.
19% of children with depression saw a health care professional for treatment.

Anxiety

An estimated 19.1% of U.S. adults had any anxiety disorder in the past year.
Past year prevalence of any anxiety disorder was higher for females (23.4%) than for males (14.3%).
An estimated 31.1% of U.S. adults experience any anxiety disorder at some time in their lives
GAD affects 6.8 million adults, or 3.1% of the U.S. population, yet only 43.2% are receiving treatment.
An estimated 31.9% of adolescents had any anxiety disorder.
Of adolescents with any anxiety disorder, an estimated 8.3% had severe impairment.
The prevalence of any anxiety disorder among adolescents was higher for females (38.0%) than for males (26.1%).

Friends, these numbers are real. Depression and anxiety are real, and according to the numbers, the chances are that there are many of you here this morning who know that already because you have suffered your own bouts of depression and/or anxiety.

There are any number of places we could go to in the Scriptures to read about the biblical reality of depression and anxiety. King Saul in the Old Testament is a primary example of someone who was crippled with anxiety. The prophet Jeremiah is known as a prophet who could provide a biblical case study in depression. You have heard me talk often about the words of the Psalmist and how they speak clearly of the struggles of this life.

Psalm 88 is one such Psalm. In the first four verses that we read this morning we meet a poet who seems paralyzed by struggle. We read testimony of an individual who seems so lost, so isolated, so helpless in this world that the only place left for him to turn is to God. “When I cry out to you, God, let my prayer come before you. Incline your ear to my cry.” This is the plea of one who longs to be heard by the Almighty. This is the prayer of one who feels like there is nowhere else to turn. We have no idea what is going on in the life of the poet at this point, but we do know that he is in a state of desperation that has left him asking God to bend down close, to incline God’s ear so that God might hear his prayer. It is a plea. It is a struggling Psalmist asking God to come close and listen.

Why is the Psalmist so desperate? He says that his soul is full of struggles and that his life is drawing near to Sheol. Sheol was known in the Psalmist’s culture as the place of death, the grave, the abode of the dead. Sheol was understood as the place from which there was no escape. A dark place. A bleak place in which there was no light or hope. For the Psalmist to describe his plight as one of being close to Sheol, he was saying that he was close to the place of utter isolation and loneliness. He continues by saying that he is like one who has gone down to the pit, like one who has no help. These are the words of one who feels alone, helpless and who is desperate for help from someone. I think the Psalmist is describing his own experience of depression.

Why do I think that? Because when I read those words I can relate them to my own experience. Early in 2015 I started to notice that something was different within me. Margaret and I had moved to the USA again just over a year before – moving house, changing the continent we lived on, and starting a new job. It was a stressful time. It was also during that year that I had spent much time in chronic back pain, and then went through a surgery to have the issue repaired. It had been a big year for us.

Everything appeared just fine on the outside, but honestly I was feeling lost and alone in the world. I was feeling like I had no clue who I was or what I was doing in ministry. Without warning, I would find my thoughts drifting into what felt like empty, blank spaces. I spoke to Margaret and said I did not know what was going on but that I just felt like I had lost my mojo in life. I had never been depressed. I had never been anxious about anything in my life. I had pretty much had a worry-free existence so far, and here I was feeling absolutely blind-sided by this complete sense of emptiness within me. I called my ministry mentor, who listened to me for a while and then spoke these words: “Do you think you are depressed?” I had not thought of it, but as soon as she asked me that question, tears welled up in my eyes and started to roll down my face. Depression? Me? No way. Have you seen these shoulders? They are big enough to carry anything. Have you seen this life? It is good – I have no reason whatsoever to be depressed. To cut a long story short, I eventually went to see my doctor and was diagnosed with some mild depression.

So I think that the Psalmist is describing a bout of depression in his life because I recognize the desperation with which the Psalmist is crying out to God.

Depression and anxiety are real in our world, and they were real in the world of the Bible. So how does Christian faith speak to the matter of depression and anxiety in our world?

The first thing that I need to state with utter clarity is this: suffering with depression is not a sign that an individual is lacking enough faith in God, and neither is it indicative of a faith that is weaker than someone else’s faith. You may think it strange that I would say that, but I would be a rich man if I had a dollar for every time a Christian has told me that when they have spoken in church or small groups of feeling depressed, someone has told them that they just need to have more faith or that their faith is not good or strong enough. That is one of the most ludicrous and damaging things we can speak to one another. A quick look through any number of information sources will tell you that depression and anxiety have their roots not in the presence or lack of faith in an individual’s life, but rather they tend to arise out of a complex set of risk factors, including genetics, brain chemistry, personality, and life events.

All that being said, Christian faith does have much to speak to the soul who feels lost, lonely, and paralyzed by depression and anxiety, and primarily what our faith has to speak to our depression, anxiety, and all the other mental health matters we have discussed is this: you are not alone.

To the soul who can’t shake that feeling of being utterly isolated in the world, the God who moved close to humanity in the life and ministry of Jesus Christ says I am with you. God says I am with you and I will never leave you nor forsake you. To Isaac, God said “Do not be afraid, for I am with you.” He said the same to Moses, and to Joshua, and to all of Israel through the prophets such as Isaiah, and Jeremiah. The angel Gabriel said to a frightened girl called Mary that she was not to be afraid for God was with her. Jesus said to his disciples, as he commissioned them to go in to all the world, that he would be with them to the end of the age. The enduring message of the gospel is the message of a God who refuses to leave us. So to the one who is depressed or crippled with anxiety; to the one who feels utterly alone this morning, I say to you that the God who created you and who knows you inside out sees you and states clearly that you are not alone.

You are not alone because God is with you. And you are not alone because God has called and appointed the family of faith to be with you. In Mark chapter four we meet a paralyzed man who is being carried by four friends to see Jesus, in the hope that Jesus will offer healing. Of course, this story is one about the healing power of Jesus, and Mark is using it to set up another conversation after the healing between Jesus and some of the scribes who took issue with Jesus offering forgiveness of sins. Of course this passage is all about those things, but we must also pay attention to the friends of the paralyzed man and what they are willing to do to ensure that their friend has the opportunity to be cared for by Jesus. You see Jesus had drawn a crowd that day. A crowd so big that there was no more room for anyone to get anywhere near close to Jesus. The only way they could get their buddy to Jesus was to remove the roof above Jesus. Yes, you read it correctly. You heard it correctly. These four friends got up on the roof of the building in which Jesus was teaching and they started to remove it just above where Jesus was so that they could lower their friend through the hole and get him right in front of Jesus.

It is as crazy as it sounds – but it is the kind of crazy we can skip over and miss when we want to skip to the healing power of Jesus in this familiar story, or to the conversation Jesus has with the scribes after the healing. We can miss that in this paralyzed man’s injured state he had friends that were willing to do whatever it took to ensure that he would be in the best position to be ministered to by Jesus.

Friends – we are not alone because the God who moves close is with us and promises to never leave nor forsake us. Whether we can feel it or not. Whether we know it or not. Whether we believe it or not. The one who created us and knows us inside out; who knows every thought and every feeling; the one who knew isolation and desperation himself is with us and remains with us in all things and through all things – even the crippling, paralyzing loneliness and despair of depression and anxiety.

And we are not alone because this same god who is with us in and through all things is embodied in God’s gathered community of people – the church family. We do not get it right all the time. We sometimes say really dumb things that harm more than heal. We are flawed and broken and in need of healing ourselves, all of us…but we gather in the name of the God who is with us and we are called to love one another and embody the presence of God for one another. That means that to the best of our ability we will walk close by those who are struggling. That means we will listen without judgement and we will do our best to imagine what it would be like to walk a mile in your shoes. We will listen, we will empathize, and we will walk alongside those who suffer and struggle and feel entirely alone, and we will remind them that none of us are alone in this world. We will remind them that we are a people captivated by love and called by the God of love to willingly and eagerly walk with the broken, lost, and struggling in this world; to walk alongside them in the name of the God who is with them, who can restore them and bring them through the dark night of the soul they are experiencing.

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The sermon closed the series. To mark the end of the series, I invited my colleague, Drew, to take a set prayer we had found in preparation for this series, and make it applicable for our church family. He, as he always does, did an excellent job. The prayer is below. The words in bold were spoken by the entire congregation:

God,

When we feel nervous, and the walls close in, and too many people are too close, and everyday noises are too loud, and every light is too bright, and all we can do is plan our panicked escape from the situation we are in…