July 23rd, 2019

Music is the universal language—NOT MATH, as my college algebra prof used to tell me. (Ok, math, too but nobody really likes math, right?) We associate music with our ups and downs, with breakups or weddings, funerals or births, with car rides on Saturday night and worship on Sunday morning. Music speaks to us, collectively and individually. Not all music speaks to everyone in the same way, however; death metal may be a boon for some, but I prefer some good ol’ Garth Brooks when I’m mowing the lawn. When I write, I typically listen to classic rock—yep, I need that dramatic chorus to pump me up. When guests are over and, if I’m feeling fancy, I’ll slap on some old crooners and let it play low. Different moods require different tunes.

When I was growing up, country wasn’t typically played in my house. Truth be told, if it wasn’t written in the sixties or seventies, and it didn’t have rad guitar solos, it wasn’t played in our house. My folks were classic rock connoisseurs; I grew up learning from the Gospels of John, George, Ringo and Paul; my theology consisted of believing that I needed to find this mystical “Stairway to Heaven”; and when things were rough, I realized that “You can’t always get what you want, but you get what you need.” From Stones to Dylan, my musical road was paved by the greats—or at least, who my parents named ‘The Greats’.

Well, when I started branching out with music, it went over like a Led Zeppelin. (Ok, I’m done)

The point is this: We all have our favorite music, the rhythm and rhymes that speak to us, that makes our feet tap and our hearts beat on time. And we all also have that music that we really don’t like. Church can be the same way, really. We all have worship styles we appreciate, we all have worship styles that we don’t consider worthy. I think that’s fine, but I’d like to encourage us not to be too fancy when talking about others’ styles. Let me give you an example.

Last Saturday, I attended the wedding of a good friend’s daughter. The pastor was a Southern Baptist Preacher from their congregation here in Oklahoma City. Immediately, I had preconceived notions of how the service would go, what the theology would be, and cringed at the ideas of inevitable unity candles and sand ceremonies (note: If you had a unity candle or sand ceremony, I don’t want to offend—my wife made me have one, too). What I received instead, was church. At a wedding.

That preacher brought it, y’all. He talked about Adam and Eve’s union and then tied it up with Christ’s union to the church in Revelation. In the middle of the ceremony, the preacher stepped back and said, “And now the couple will take communion together.” I was like, “Whaaaaaaaat?” I saw God on Saturday in the midst of a style of worship about which I had preconceived notions. After it was done, I found that preacher and shook his hand. We talked for a bit about his church plant and what they were doing, how they were doing it. Then we talked about the Episcopal Church and what we were doing.

As I turned to go, I shook his hand and said, “One kingdom my man. Thank you.” And I walked away.

Like music, Jesus has a universal language. I think it’s important for us to know what other denominations are doing in their worship, to know who they are rather than who we think they are. Times are changing. Theology is changing. Worship is changing. I think before we talk about ‘the Catholics’, we should know what we’re saying. Because, pro tip, they’re Christian, too. Baptists, Church of Christ, Lutherans, Methodists, Catholics, Episcopalians, and everyone else under this big tent of Christ—all carriers of their perceived and received Word of God. We may not like the style, but that doesn’t mean we can’t appreciate that they’re trying to make a song of praise to God. So next time you’re in a conversation with someone and they start to bag on a different denomination, maybe step back and recognize that we’re all trying to get it right, and every one of us is inevitably making mistakes along the way. In the end, it’s about trying to get the message of love to the rest of the world, and I believe that, FOR THE MOST PART, Christians everywhere in all places are genuinely trying to do that. Pray for them. Pray for us. Because…

One kingdom, y’all. One love.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

July 17th, 2019

Psalm 46 contains one of the (to me) best lines in all of scripture: “Be still and know that I am God.” Those eight words—admit it, you just counted them—have meant a great deal to me in busy times, through worrisome times, and even in joyous moments. I remember walking outside during Nicole and my wedding reception to move the car around. When I got in, I couldn’t make myself turn on the ignition. I was so overwhelmed by the generosity of family and friends, and all that they’d done to ensure we could have the best wedding possible, that I broke into tears. That deep sense of gratitude allowed me to take a moment, to be stilled, and to thank God for the blessings of those around us.  

Less than a year later, my father died. In my mind, I almost immediately went into ‘savior mode’. I began calling people to let them know, I started making plans for mom (without her permission), and I initiated processes by which we’d all come through this tragedy. This was about a week after he passed. Then, the night before the funeral, I broke. I had to walk away from a living room filled with the same friends and family from the wedding—the same people who’d lifted us up and taken care of us; only now, I wanted to weep and be alone in order to avoid burdening them with my sorrow. I sunk to our bedroom floor and wept. Hard. My sister-in-law Tiffany was the one who found me. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t try and ‘fix’ me, she simply sat down and let me ‘be’. In that moment, I experienced another opportunity to be still, to know God loved me—even if I didn’t feel that love at that moment through my sadness. It was right then that I thanked God for dad’s life, I dried my eyes, and I asked that He be there the next time I needed to break. Sometimes being still isn’t easy.

Fast forward. I’m a priest, in case you didn’t know. J This life can be full of all kinds of stuff—the days run together, the meetings are endless, and the clown-car of emotions from day to day can be overwhelming. But I still find time to ‘be still’ and listen to God, for the most part. I could always do better, but then again, nobody’s perfect (another life-lesson that seems difficult at times). 

I think we all struggle with this notion of being still. We all have so much on our plates—being busy isn’t a competition, and the overwhelming feeling of being stretched in fifty ways is unique to each of us, as each of us is capable of different levels of busy-ness. Do you make time to be still? Do you take time to be with God, one on one, whether you’re happy or sad, angry or just ‘there’? Taking five to ten minutes a day, multiple times if you can, to just sit and ‘be’ with God can make a huge difference in your daily life; I know this because it’s made a difference in mine. So even if you’re struggling (especially, actually), even if you’re happy, if you’re lonely, if you’re sad, joyful, worried, afraid…whatever/however you are, take a moment. Be still. Allow God’s grace to seep through the barriers built by that anger; allow God to join you in those moments of rapture; allow God to be known. And just be still.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

July 10th, 2019

I’m a sucker for 80’s music. Growing up, I watched 80’s movies and, inevitably, there’d be a montage a little over halfway through where the characters got better at something—learning to fight, building a boat, dancing, etc—and that moment would be accompanied by a sweet rockin’ 80’s tune. One of my favorites of these is “Eye of the Tiger”. The first two Rocky movies might be some of the most awkward film ever made, but Rocky III? Amazing. What’s better than Mr. T? The answer is “very little”, but still, that song… The lead up is great, the video is hilarious (Google that here), and the refrain? Absolute mastery (ok, not really, but still...its pretty good). It wasn’t until I made…erm, strongly suggested…that Nicole watch these movies (yep, she made it all the way to 34 without seeing them) that I began to take note of the verses, to the message of the song.

It’s actually pretty great.

In the film Rocky III, the plan was to use “Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen; unfortunately, Stallone couldn’t get the rights to the song and thus, Survivor was contacted and asked to amend their soon-to-be hit, “Eye of the Tiger” for use during the movie. It ended up being 1982’s biggest hit. The chorus is catchy and uplifting, but I think my favorite line is, “So many times, it happens too fast; you trade your passion for glory.” It hits me in the chest every time I hear it, now; it does happen too fast, am I trading passion for glory? And if so, whose? God's or mine?

We’re a merit-driven people. The only ways we know if we’re succeeding are through feedback and results—the former usually only manifesting in negative ways and the latter fluctuating. I came into an environment with very few people and wanted nothing more—after listening to their story—to help, to lift this place up and get more people…get more ministry going. So, I put my head down and I charged ahead. The thing about looking down is that most of the time, you miss the stuff going on around you. Now, I won’t say that I haven’t paid attention to the people of this parish--I feel like I've been present and that we've grown together, but I will say that tunnel-vision has had me on a quest for growth and prosperity and left me tired and searching for the next 'thing', rather than stopping and listening to God for direction. And while we’ve done well, so far, I've felt the need to reorient, but I didn't know where or how to begin. Then, God sent me a message.

Recently, I was gently counseled that the message on Sunday seemed to be lacking content, and that it seemed like I was strongly focused on numbers and engagement. The thing about counsel? If someone is willing to voice it, there’s a large possibility that others agree in silence. It takes courage to speak opinions, and to do so lovingly. So, hearing this, I took a step back and started reviewing my past articles, my sermons, and the other communications I’ve sent. I wanted to see with different eyes and determine how I could get back to the message God wants versus the message of Sean. In short and after my search, I discovered this: I had begun to trade my passion for glory. Not God's glory—which is the only glory I should ever seek to promote—but instead, the glory found in being over-proud in a human way of our accomplishments and therefore seeking more to 'do' to keep that feeling going. People are noticing what we're doing here and I started to become caught up with constant growth rather than real growth...both mine and yours, spiritually and communally. And I miss it. I am a passionate man, I give all of myself to whatever I do (for better or worse) and it's time I remembered the passions that drive me.

My passions—in this order—are: Jesus Christ, my family, this community, and then a bunch of other fun stuff that follows when I have time. I’m hyper-focused on most of the things I do, but sometimes I lose sight of the ‘why’ while I’m doing it; the work of God overtakes my growth in God during the process. Does this happen to you? How can I help? Because without passion and without growing ourselves spiritually and faithfully, we're no longer being church, we're just a social group who meets on Sundays. I don’t want to lose that passion, or have it translated as a mere numbers game. I'll wager you don't either. I recently told someone that the people with whom they were charged were ready to grow—grow in spirit and knowledge of the love of God—and that they were just waiting on this person to lead them.

Time to take my own advice.

Jesus Christ is more than just an ancient figure to me; he’s my life, the life of a passionate man trying to figure out how best to remain faithful, disseminate Christ's message, and take care of a budding congregation in the process. I believe in his words, his actions, his miracles, his love, his abounding grace. I believe in his Passion. The TRUE Passion. The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ that began in a manger and hasn’t ended yet. I want people, as many people as possible, to hear his good news and feel his presence. I want the world to shout, “Holy, Holy, Holy” when they think or speak his name. The numbers are a vehicle for that—nothing more—because just a few people can do this just as well as a few thousand. I got so caught up in projects and community-engagement that I lost sight for a moment of the ‘why’ rather than the ‘how’. I want to lead with integrity and I hope you want to walk alongside me with grace, while we follow in the footsteps of Jesus Christ.

This community is more than just a job to me. It’s my passion. And I wouldn’t trade it for all the glory in the world. I’m so proud to be here, so proud to be your priest and co-conspirator in the subversion of evil and uplifting of good in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Ghost. So, this is my montage. This is my moment of a silly song playing in the background that has actual meaning to me (you can google that here). But I’m not learning to fight, not learning to dance, not learning to build a boat. I’m learning to recognize the power of true passion and not get caught up in the draw of glory. This is my ‘why’.

Because of Jesus Christ. Because of Jesus at all times, in all places. Through the low moments and in the highest elations; during the deeply meaningful seasons and in the doldrum of summer; throughout successful ministry weeks and in the midst of cancelations; in the darkness of night and the light of day. All of it. All I ever want to do is proclaim that Jesus is Lord. Proclaim that the Triune God has changed my life and done so for the better. Proclaim that I believe the Bible isn’t done teaching us. Proclaim that I believe the Holy Spirit still whispers on the wind and creates the words of the prophets. And proudly proclaim that I want to be a prophet, too, for the glory of God and not my own.

A change is coming. I want to see you as much as possible, but if I don’t, know that the message I believe God wants us to hear (yes, us, not just 'you') will be amped up from here on out, with less 'doing' and more 'being'. We’ll be doing things around the church at the highest level, still, but those communications about the 'when and how' will be coming in the form of other articles in the newsletter, announcements and emails—please read them. Because I’m turning my attention back to my call: The call to proclaim by WORD AND EXAMPLE (both, not just one) the good news of Jesus Christ. I want to start here, now.

Because He didn’t trade his passion for glory…through his Passion, he was glorified...and we were saved.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

June 26th, 2019

Knowing you is one of the chief joys in my life.

I think that, through all the ups and downs, the twists and turns of church-life, people can easily get distracted from the fundamental aspects of faith-based living: Jesus, Community, Support, Growth, Comfort, Worship. I’m sure there are more reasons in each of your minds as you read this; that’s great! We all have particular passions and desires which drive us to continue worshiping together, and many of them are not the same. But those six seem to be universal. At least most of the time, I hope. If those aren’t met, then the rest of the ‘stuff’ we do can seem trite or mechanical. So…how are we doing?

No clergy/parish should be above receiving input on the daily life of their people. So far, I’m proud of what we’ve done, here, and joyfully participate in as much as I can. We try to do as much as possible to meet the desires of as many of you as possible: The open-mic nights, the potlucks, the concerts, Family Fellowship Week, baseball games, game nights, ministry opportunities, special services…we’re trying to reach everyone’s expectations. But, as with anything, we can’t know what we don’t hear/see/have explained to us. Is something missing? How are you feeling about church life—not just ‘church’ on Sundays? During the slow months of summer, a good practice is to gauge the efficacy of our programs, to reach out and get some feedback on what’s working and what’s not.

Simply put: When y’all are happy, I’m happy.

I want each of you to know how much you mean to me, to Deacon Dion and to the staff here at church of the Res. As a result of that, I deeply desire to ensure that most of your church-oriented wishes are at least heard, if not enacted. I also want to reach out to those of you whom have not had a chance to sit down and talk with me. What’s your story? How can I better serve you? How can the church better serve you? And, in turn, is there some way you’d like to get more deeply involved in serving the church or others? If I know the answers to these questions, and if I know you, then life becomes richer and full of more meaningful moments. My goal here is to promote community in faith, and the best way to do that is to know you better and better.

Because as I said at the beginning, knowing you is one of the chief joys in my life.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

June 19th, 2019

Preface: The church is in good shape, building and bank, and your faithfulness is beautiful.

Money is the root of all evil? Not really, no. The root of all evil is…well…evil. Money just happens to be something in our lives that tends to drive us—in some ways leading us down paths of righteousness and in others, down streets of despair. Someone very close to me, during one of our bleaker moments, said something to me that I’ll never forget. He said, “You know, the thing about money is this…you either have it or you don’t.”

Thankfully, we’ve been faithful to our pledges, with few exceptions. For the year, our budget is looking solid and we’re hitting the numbers we need to sustain while also doing small projects to continue the beautification and maintenance of our property. However, I will say that we’re slightly below our pledged budget, right now, and have been for two months. I bring this up for two reasons. The first is obvious—we need to maintain our giving so that we can continue doing the work God gives us to do. Mobile Meals is strong, the Nave looks beautiful, we’re helping folks with food and rent occasionally, and we’re giving coats, trips to various camps, and hope to our kids and kids in the local community.

The second reason is why I’m writing you. One of the most difficult things for a priest/rector/minister/pastor to gauge is the efficacy of her/his ministry. To be honest, we never really know when we’re doing well, but we also don’t know when people are unhappy with us (well, most of the time…). One of the few ways in which we can measure our effectiveness in the church is by virtue of attendance, and by virtue of giving. When people are here and they’re happy, they’re also continuing to give. We’re seeing that, on a large scale. When I say that we’re slightly under the mark for our giving, I mean it. However. It’s summertime, and that means people will be traveling, staying home on the porch for Sunday morning coffee and good weather, or going to do family events. All of these things are GREAT! What I hope this letter will transmit is that, while you’re away, the church still has needs and still needs you. Numbers of folks in pews naturally decline during the summer—it’s expected, although I miss y’all—so, too does giving. But it doesn’t have to. 

If you haven’t considered it, I urge you to reach out and discuss ACH payments. It’s a great way to keep current with pledges while still being faithful to tenets of Christianity. Every Monday, I do finances. I fill in the pledges received from everyone; when I’m doing that, I say a prayer of thanksgiving for the gifts we’ve received…just like I do on Sunday. If you’re one of the people who like to put something in the plate, let me remind you that the dollar initiative that we’ve started (placing a dollar in the plate if you’ve gone to ACH) has provided funds for all of our ministries within the church. We’ve tripled those donations and because of them, our ministries have been at ease and functioned with little stress!

Again, I want to reiterate that we’re not in any financial trouble, whatsoever. I am simply reaching out to talk about stewardship during this season because that’s part of what we do, here. Because of our stewardship, five kids are going to St. Crispins. Because of our stewardship, 22 people get fed every Tuesday. Because of our stewardship, our kids get to proudly display their church’s name on plays, sporting events, and music events programs—and they love that. Because of our stewardship, we’re about to get a new sound system. And mostly, because of our stewardship, we’re able to create a space wherein people can come and feel safe, encouraged, comforted, and loved.

We’ll be sending out half-year statements, soon, which is the main reason for this letter. I wanted you to know that we’re in good shape, and to know that your giving is more appreciated that you know. Keep up the good work! But also, if you’re behind, I don’t want you to be ashamed or feel like I’m writing to you, personally. I’m not. Period. I’m just communicating our current position, which has been asked of me by many of you.

So, be at peace. Be at leisure. Enjoy summertime and the weather and the trips. I hope to see you on Sundays, but I understand that sometimes it’s just nice to get away. While you’re away, know that I and Deacon Dion miss you, and we’ll be right here waiting alongside everybody else when you come back. Until then, take care and know that you are loved.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

June 12th, 2019

In my backyard there’s a dead spot. About two feet in diameter, it took up residence near the backdoor next to the gutter. For months I tried to get rid of it and—for months—I’ve failed. Until now. As I was mowing yesterday (I’m away this weekend at St. Crispin’s for Iona, so honey-do’s have to happen on Tuesday?), I noticed this spot was diminished somewhat. It’s starting to ‘green up’ and grow again. I know where the spot originated, I know why I wasn’t able to ‘fix’ it.

It was where Tyrone marked his territory. Every. Single. Day.

Tears began to well in my eyes as I saw the new growth. Although I’d tried everything to rid my yard of that eyesore while Ty was alive, I’d purposefully been mistreating it to—after his death—keep it there. It’s one of the last physical vestiges of his presence. One of the last places I can physically see evidence of him. One of the last places I can visit and stare at and just…cry. And now it’s healed. And I’m not, at least not fully. Sigh. So, with a little mist in my eyes (it was hot, alright…) I kept mowing. I finished the yard like a good boy and went inside to shower, the spot ever on my mind: The spot that marks my yard echoing the spot that marks my heart. I started thinking about all the ‘spots’ I have internally, the vestiges of loved ones’ passing, the scars that bloomed from broken moments. My Dad. My Grandparents. Close friends from childhood.

Monty Howard. Clark Oden. Selma Witzke. Rita Jamison. Bob Sackett. Nadine DeWitt. Tomi Sackett.

Then I started thinking about how—even though I miss my family and friends—the pain of their loss has seemed to lessen. New growth has sprouted and soothed the dead areas brought about by their passing. Sure, it still hurts. Sure, this Sunday is Father’s Day and I’ll undoubtedly think about Dad. But just as surely, my heart continues to heal.

I wish that for all of you. My prayers for you to start and continue to heal match my own prayers for the same. I hate that any of you ever hurt; if I could take it from you, I would. But please know that we all have spots, that all of us have been through something devastating to varying degrees—each unique with its own sense of pain—and that many of us are willing to sit with you and say nothing, just ‘be’ with you during your hardships and your low moments of life. Tomorrow is one of those times for this parish. As we remember Tomi and her life, we wrap Chani, Eric, Brett, Grant, and Emily (among many others) up in steadfast love and prayers. Just as we’ve done for many before them and just as we’ll continue to do for many others in years to come.

May all our spots grow over, but may our memories remain. May the peace of God be upon all of us who grieve. May the love of God enfold us, emanating from Him to us, and from us to one another. May the Grace of God see us through the difficult times. And may all those who went before us rest in peace and rise in glory.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

June 5th, 2019

Pentecost is coming!!!!

Otherwise known as ‘The Fifty’, Pentecost is seven weeks after Easter. We celebrate it because

of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit—tongues of fire and power to heal and courage to spread

the Word.

But it’s also a time to come together and fellowship. So much of our year is taken up with

fundraising, ministry and worship; I LOVE THAT. But there comes a time in every church family

wherein we need to just sit and have a few laughs, a burger or two, play some games and just

BE. That’s what this Sunday is…a time to be together as a family. Picnic STYLE! And an added

bonus: everything from this weekend’s picnic has been donated by Homeland, Walmart, Crest,

Coop, Elk Valley Brewery and more. It’s my present to you for all you do…you deserve to be

loved on and appreciated for your hard work and dedication and faith…and just for being who

you are.

So come. Come Sunday and worship, stay Sunday and eat and just ‘be’. Let’s start summer off

with some fun!

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

May 29th, 2019

A LETTER TO MY CLERGY FRIENDS, TO MYSELF, TO THE WORLD

“Our thoughts and prayers are with you…”

The last two decades have been riddled by terrorism, natural disasters, and heinous acts of social injustice. Initially, we were shocked. When the twin towers sent smoke billowing into the sky on September 11th, we watched in absolute horror. The following weeks served as a

testament to the American spirit and how we could come together…for a time. Then, one by one, atrocities seemingly began to abound. School shootings, night club massacres, bombings, floods, hurricanes, injustices afflicting many groups…the list built. As these moments came and went, the words, “Our thoughts and prayers are with you,” started becoming trite. People began to decry the phrase’s usage due to the lack of outcome and a sense of insincerity—we wanted prayers to be answered. And answered the way in which they were presented.  In essence, people were treating (and still treat) God like a cosmic coke machine, expecting that the heinous crimes against humanity and the loss of life would cease simply because we were ‘prayin hard enough’. Now, it seems that our patent response of, “Our thoughts and prayers are with you…” has become a tagline that isn’t even accompanied by prayers. Or thoughts, for that matter. Sometimes I think they’ve become mere meaningless words. (I know that many of us humbly pray and do so with intentionality, but much of the outside world does not). 

Because we want action.

We don’t want to sit faithfully and pray, awaiting the Marvel-esque God to sweep down and avenge the evils done to us. So, we march. We organize. We speak out. And we should. We are called to speak out against hatred and we have a sacred desire to come together in community to try to make this world a better version of itself through our actions. But we shouldn’t lose the true sense of prayer, nor should we cease reminding those around us of its power and importance. Luke 11:1-13 provides step-by-step instructions for us. “How do we pray?” could also have meant, “How should we pray when we’ve lost hope; or, have no idea how to ask/discern what’s best for us?” Our congregations and ourselves need reminding—the WORLD needs reminding—that prayer is the most potent tool in our everyday toolbox. Reteaching those around us (and perhaps ourselves) that prayer is more about a relationship with God, and is less about controlling the free will of others, is of paramount importance these days.

When travesties occur, our thoughts and prayers do matter; we have to remind ourselves of that. We may not always get what we want, but we will be granted the grace to help one another through our darkest moments. The times of trial only come when we face them alone—that is something we too often forget.

Perhaps a prudent plan for preaching Luke on Proper 12 would involve walking people through The Lord’s Prayer with intentionality. What does it really say? What is it really asking for? The people sitting in church on Sunday are most likely on auto-pilot during The Lord’s Prayer (thinking of lunch when ‘daily bread’ is mentioned) and aren’t being intentional about the prayer at all. If we're honest with ourselves, some of the priests/pastors/ministers are guilty, too. But if we can successfully walk our people, and ourselves, through the lines of Jesus’ recommendation for prayer, maybe new meanings will emerge. If we think about what we’re praying for, our prayers will become more about encountering the Holy in times of joy, need, sorrow, and pain, and less about “Okay, God, I prayed. Now make all this go away.” Because, to quote the funny commercial, “That’s now how this works. That’s not how ANY of this works.”

If you’ll remember, Christ prayed multiple times to be taken from the hands of his enemies while in Gethsemane. Was he delivered from captivity and death? No. But he prayed anyway. I have to believe that, during those frightening moments, Christ’s heartfelt prayers were answered.  They were answered with a sense of grace that gave him the courage to keep moving, regardless of the outcome. That’s the point of prayer: to remember God’s promise of salvation and that, while we ask, we may not always get what we ask for, but in the words of theologian Mick Jagger, we’ll get what we need. In the end, God will recognize part of Godself in us.

Preaching on the power of prayer—and the importance of it—is something we should never stop doing. Just like we should never stop praying. By reminding people to connect or reconnect with the words they’re praying while they’re praying them, we’re repairing a broken promise typed out in response or said aloud in rote tones…

Because our thoughts and prayers really will be with them. And within us.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

May 8th, 2019

When clergy people gather, inevitably we brag about our churches. We talk about our average Sunday attendance (ASA), our building projects, our programs, and—with the most pride—our people. But just as inevitably, there’s almost always one person who questions why we care about all that. “Aren’t we here to spread the Gospel? Why are we so concerned with building projects or the amount of people that come to church?” It’s a good question, really. Does it matter how many people we have at church? Does it matter if we have ‘nice’ facilities? Does it matter…

Well, in short answer form: Yes. And yes. YES.

The amount of people matters because they bring along with them time, talent and treasure. Those are valuable. Of course, we’re not in the mode of recruiting people for self-preservation; our call is to celebrate the good news of Jesus Christ, AND to bring that good news to as many people as humanly possible. But it’s through those media, the three T’s, that we do so. The programs in the church are ways to connect folks with one another, while also helping people in need or educating those yearning for learning; the facilities help us to do that. With proper facilities, we’re able to cook for the hungry, house clothing items for the needy, hold meetings about how to impact our local community, and—you guessed it—worship in a safe space that we want to make as beautiful as possible. (Before I go further, I want to state in no uncertain terms that I do not, in any way, believe God cares more for those with prettier worship spaces or bigger crowds or huge endowments. I have decent theology that allows me to understand that even if this church dwindled to say…oh, I don’t know…forty people (just a random number), that God would still work within that congregation to do miracles and change lives.)

But. We’re not a congregation of forty. We’re currently blessed to be a growing community with new ministries on the horizon; with new folks—and existing folks—passionately pursuing the prospect of better the lives of themselves and those around them. I AM going somewhere with this…stick with me. The importance of our building and all the other ‘stuff’ is this: It all has the potential to attract others to an outward and visible sign of an inward and searched-for change. To prove the importance of church building and church projects, of faithful people who give in all areas, I’d like to share with you all an experience I had last Wednesday evening.

June had just arrived for community dinner; she text me and asked if I could meet her outside (the side parking lot) and help her carry food inside. As I met her at her car, I looked over at the new memorial garden—as I often do, to gauge progress and appreciate that which has already been done. As I glanced, I noticed a vehicle parked parallel to the area. A woman was standing next to the car and simply staring at the cross on the brick. Naturally, I followed her gaze. There, at the foot of the cross knelt a man with his hands in prayer. He knelt at the base of the cross with his forearms resting in the praying position on top of the ‘new’ rock wall we just built. I didn’t move. I watched. He looked up at the wall, raised his arms just like I do every Sunday when I celebrate the Eucharist, and then went back to the praying position. I just stood there amazed for a few more minutes.

Eventually, he stood, and I walked over to speak with him. We’ll call him John. He was driving by and noticed the new structure we were adding; he said he hadn’t been to church in a while, but the cross seemed to call to him. He remarked on the space, how beautiful it was and how holy it felt to him, and thanked me (and asked me to thank you all) for providing it. I’m not making this up. He said, “I’ve been to this church before, years ago, but it didn’t feel like this. This feels holy.”

You did that. All of you. The changes we’ve made together, the money we take in, the ministries we provide, the education we all undergo…all of it, from choir to daughters of the king—all of it matters. Our physical plant is beginning to call out into the community. It’s stopping people in their tracks, calling them over, a beckoning beacon of hope to folks who just feel the need to kneel at the cross.

I invited John to the meal—he’d already eaten and had somewhere to be—I invited him to church, and I hope he comes. But if he doesn’t, I will at least know that—for one moment—our holy space served as a church for him. And in that moment, he felt the presence of God.

That’s why. Keep up the good work, Res. I’m proud of this place, proud of what we’re doing, and beyond blessed to be among you. Thank you for making this space look inviting, and for continuing to be faithful with all you give—the time, talent and treasure are paying off and beginning to create a ‘feeling’ within others that calls them to the space. Thank you. Thank God for you. If we’ve just managed to change one life for one moment, then all the work is worth it. Have a good week. I’ll see you at the cross on Sunday.

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+

May 1st, 2019

I recently saw Avengers: Endgame. Don’t worry, no spoilers were created in the making of this article. The day the tickets went on sale, Nicole sat at her desk fervently pressing the ‘refresh’ button on the site; millions of folks were trying to see the culmination of ten years’ time. We were so excited when the purchase went through—we’re huge Marvel fans and couldn’t WAIT to see the last movie.

So, the weeks went by and last Sunday, we were on our way. We settled in and ordered food (as one does at bougie movie joints), watched excitedly as the previews for the upcoming movies played, and nervously prognosticated what might happen in the next three hours.  

Then. It was finished.

A great movie to be certain, but I left the theater both satisfied and yet, a little sad. This was the end. There would be no more ‘Avenging’ for me…just what had already passed. I thought about it for a while; these movies have been produced over the majority of Nicole and my relationship. They were part of our beginning, middle, and present culture. We toss around quotes, knowing that the other ‘gets it’. We have fond memories of anticipating the next movie, getting excited about who we’d go with, and what would happen. But this was it. The last stand. The last movie of an epic adventure.

There have been so many ‘firsts’ at Church of the Resurrection in the last two years. So many new and exciting things. And all of us have been on a wild ride. But there have also been some ‘lasts’, too. The last day I saw Monty. The last time Emily Hileman would come to church as a ‘youth’. The last time we heard Britney and Ponder sing with us. The last service Mtr. Beth and Rex would worship with us. While the ‘firsts’ are joyful and exhilarating, the lasts can be hard…painful.

There will be more of these ‘lasts’ in the coming years. People will come, people will leave; either by virtue of mortality or of necessity to be in a different town. But the time we have together now…that’s what makes us, ‘us’. There will be the ‘last movie’ so to speak, concerning members of our congregation. The last scenes of what has been so far, an epic adventure.

The point I’m getting at is this: We have been given the grace to live in a stolen season together, a time in which we make ourselves and each other better people. By doing so, we also make the world a little bit better. Last week, we had another ‘last’; Bee Delbridge is moving on to a new community down South and she won’t be with us anymore. This past Monday, Tom and Tawana Ruder told the vestry that they are moving to Kansas City. Tom has accepted a promotion within his job and the move is necessary. While I’ll miss him as Junior Warden, the deep sadness comes with missing them both as a vibrant pair of evangelists who have brought others to share in this beloved community, and have made it brighter by their presence.

With a smaller congregation, we feel those losses. We notice them, we miss the people, and we wish they wouldn’t go. But life has a funny way of sending people forth, in life itself and even in death. In life, we sometimes have to say goodbye to folks who are moving somewhere else. In death, we say goodbye to our loved ones with hope of a swift reunion in the graceful presence of God.

As Christians, we know death isn’t permanent. We know that we’ll be in the company of those we love, eventually. Grief uninvitingly accompanies us after death, but does not diminish the love we have for those who pass. Life is much the same, but holds a different hope. In life, when someone departs for another place, we also grieve. But we hold the hope that their time here has impacted them so that they can be sent out to a new place to be disciples, there. To lend their time, talent, and treasure…and most importantly, their love…to somewhere and someplace new. But the work continues for us, here. In those absences, new souls will find their way to us. New relationships will begin and new ministries will thrive. While we grieve the departed, we must also cling to hope for the not-yet arrived. So for Bee, for Tawana and Tom, for Beth and Rex, for Britney, for Ponder, and for anyone else who has moved or will move on to a new community, we say God bless you, God keep you safe, and God remind you that you come from a long line of love that starts at the altar rail, and follows you wherever you go.

Love that remains strong, and love that you can always call home. And love that never ends. 

Faithfully,

Fr. Sean+