Worship & Sermon Archive

As I've been prepping for Sunday, my brain keeps transporting me back to the Intermediate Hebrew class I took during seminary. Perhaps a strange place to be, since we aren't working with any Hebrew Bible texts this week?

How much peace have you made this week? What does it even mean to 'make peace'? In the literal sense of the phrase, James is telling us that peace can be manufactured, constructed. But how?

Remember Walkmans? Remember cassette tapes? Well in that same era, I have a distinct memory of "borrowing" my mother's Jane Fonda workout tape and putting it into my walkman. I set off on a walk.

This week's lectionary serves up some strange passages. The Gospel reading begins with Jesus saying, "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them." Just because we affirm this, do this, each communion Sunday doesn't quite remove the 'Ewww!' factor in this passage!

What if the writer of 1st Peter, a chaplain and pastor to refugees, displaced & unhoused, made a pastoral call on King David? Would David’s fears have been relieved? Would his last gasp for vengeance be stilled? (read 1 Peter 3:9-15 for some clues).

Have you ever had to be a bearer of bad news? How did you feel or what did you do to prepare to give someone a word that you knew was going to be hard?

Who's been watching the Olympics this week? I confess, I've missed most of it so far, except for a few of the preliminary events in women's gymnastics.

What is a miracle? I don't know how I feel about miracles. On the one hand, I feel like most things that happen have a simple, logical explanation. On the other, I can't picture moving through life without a constant feeling of wonder!

What a week! I don't know about you, but I think I'm all about tired of saying and feeling this. Continued political strife and violence, failing infrastructure at the hands of our inability to be good stewards of our resources, it's too darn hot/wet/windy...and on and on.

Sometimes the truth hurts. How often do you avoid saying something, even when something needs to be said, because you don't want to risk a friendship, a work situation, a family relationship? That's what John the Baptist's story is making me think about.

If you are like me, you are carrying a lot right now. A lot of anxiety about the state of our nation. Concern for those in the path of war and violence. Stress about our planet, as a warming climate threatens more and more dramatic weather events. Money worries, health worries, worries about loved ones.

Friends, this Sunday is a high holy day for us-- It's Pride! We'll reflect together about how being in relationship with queerness blesses us, grows us, and connects us to transformative possibilities.

How often do we get placed into situations and expectations that are just not us? And how hard it is, then, to know and claim who we really are!

Sunday will be special! First, it's the 'official' kickoff to our Capital Campaign to 'rebuild the walls' (and, more particularly the roof!) of St. Paul & St. Andrew.

For better, or for worse (probably for worse if we’re being honest) human beings are deeply jealous creatures.

I have a notoriously substandard sense of direction. This always distresses my dad, a Navy submariner who is gifted with an internal GPS.

As Julia Tulloch so cleverly put it last week, we are no longer mere Easter People, but Pentecost People.

Pentecost! The birthday of the church! Pentecost! That day when nothing happened. Until everything happened.

I am naturally optimistic. Still, when we arrived at General Conference two weeks ago, I felt a sense of dread climbing up my spine.

Yesterday we received amazing, wonderful, "pinch me it's so fabulous news" from K and Lea and Aurora at General Conference. LOVE WINS!