Momologian

Grief does not follow a timetable, and faith does not require us to stop hurting. In “Room for the Love We Carry,” Rev. A reflects on John 11:32–36, where Jesus weeps alongside those mourning Lazarus. Through this All Saints and Día de los Muertos reflection, we explore how to live with loss without shame, make room for both sorrow and joy, and trust that God meets us while we are still grieving.

Welcome to October in New England, which means it is officially time for our annual embrace of things a little mysterious, unexpected, and spooky. This month, our worship series is called (Holy) Ghost Stories.

Our final (Holy) Ghost Story comes from the Hebrew Scriptures, in 1 Samuel 28:3–25: Saul’s visit to the unnamed medium at Endor. Today, we'll hear an imaginative retelling of that ancient story. When a desperate king arrives in disguise at the home of a woman whose very livelihood he has outlawed, an extraordinary encounter unfolds. There will be secrets, an unexpected visitor from beyond the grave, and a surprising act of compassion. Centering the unnamed woman of Endor, our final (Holy) Ghost Story explores the dangers of seeking certainty without being willing to change, the voices we silence, and the remarkable reach of God's grace. What happens when grace extends even to those who cause harm? And what does it mean to truly respond to that grace?

As you listen, consider whose voices are heard, whose are dismissed, and what happens when the answers we receive aren't the ones we wanted.

Welcome to October in New England, which means it is officially time for our annual embrace of things a little mysterious, unexpected, and spooky. This month, our worship series is called (Holy) Ghost Stories.

Alone beside a river in the darkness, Jacob encounters a mysterious stranger who wrestles with him until dawn. But who is this figure, and why does the encounter leave Jacob with more questions than answers? As we continue our (Holy) Ghost Stories series, we revisit this strange biblical account through the lens of mystery, identity, and God's persistent grace. We explore what happens when we stop hiding behind the stories we tell about ourselves and discover that being truly known does not mean being condemned. Instead, it may open the way toward healing, honesty, and new possibilities.

And perhaps the greatest mystery is not who Jacob was holding on to that night, but who had been holding on to Jacob all along.

Welcome to October in New England, which means it is officially time for our annual embrace of things a little mysterious, unexpected, and spooky. This month, our worship series is called (Holy) Ghost Stories.

Human beings have always told stories. Around fires. Around tables. Across generations. And the best stories do more than give us information. They draw us in. They create tension. They surprise us. They help us notice things we may have missed before. They also invite imagination. They give us permission to be curious, creative, even a little playful, and to remember that faith does not always have to take itself quite so seriously in order to take God seriously.

Scripture is full of stories like this. Strangers appear without warning. Voices come from unexpected places. Bones begin to move. Storms stop at a word. The dead refuse to stay dead. And again and again, ordinary people discover that God has been much closer than they realized.

Today, rather than reading Genesis 18:1–15 straight from the page, we are going to hear the story retold in the style of an old-fashioned ghost story, the kind meant to be told slowly, with imagination, around a fire.

Today’s reading comes from Paul’s letter to the Philippians (Philippians 2:1-13 The Message), where he is speaking to a community learning how to live together in a way that reflects Christ.

Paul calls them beyond self-interest and toward humility, mutual care, and a way of life shaped by Jesus, who does not cling to power for himself but turns toward others in love.

As we listen, hear this invitation beneath the words:

What happens when the belonging we have received becomes something we are willing to share?

Let us listen for the Spirit speaking through these words.

Today’s scripture picks up immediately after the teaching from Matthew we heard last Sunday, when Jesus instructed his followers to name harm honestly, seek accountability, and work toward repair.

Peter responds with a very human question: How many times do I have to forgive?

Jesus answers with a story about mercy, debt, power, and what happens when the grace we receive does, or does not, change the way we treat one another.

It is not an easy story, and some parts may trouble us. The torture language near the end is especially hard to hear, and we will return to it and address it more fully in the sermon. So as we listen, I invite us not to rush toward simple answers, but to hold this question:

What kind of community does grace invite us to become?

Today we begin our new series, Coming Home: Remembering Who We Are. Becoming Who God Calls Us to Be. Through Exodus 12 and Matthew 18, we’ll explore what communities carry with them when God leads them into something new: stories of liberation, practices of truth and reconciliation, and the grace that teaches us how to carry one another. As we gather around the Communion table, we’ll consider this question: What are we carrying forward so that someone else might find a home here, too?

Every one of us carries stories—stories we've inherited, stories others have told about us, and stories we've come to believe about ourselves. Some bring life.

Others quietly convince us that we are defined by our wounds, our failures, or the hardest chapter of our lives.

In this week's Gospel, Jesus encounters a woman who has spent twelve years being known only by her suffering. Yet before sending her on her way, Jesus does something even more profound than healing her body: he restores her identity with a single word: "Daughter."

This sermon explores how the stories we believe shape the lives we live, and how Christ continually speaks a truer story over us—a story of belovedness, belonging, and grace. Together, we'll consider why the Church exists not simply to teach doctrine, but to become a community that reminds one another of who we truly are through God's eyes.

This week's message explores what it means to practice hope, not as wishful thinking, but as faithful action. We may never see the full harvest of the seeds we plant, yet every act of love, compassion, justice, and welcome becomes part of the story God is still writing. The church is not called to predict God's future, but to participate in it—one faithful step, one act of courage, and one seed of hope at a time.

Today we'll hear the story of Jacob, whose life was shaped by betrayal, loss, and circumstances he never would have chosen. Together we'll discover how God doesn't cause our suffering, but can bring healing, hope, and new possibilities from even our deepest disappointments.

Wherever you find yourself today, know that you belong here. God is still writing stories of hope, and we are grateful to be part of that story together.

This week we begin the July chapter of our summer worship series, We Are Still Alive and Singing a New Song, with a message from Galatians 5:1, 13–25 called "Freedom Songs."

As we reflect on Independence Day, we'll explore one of the most important questions of the Christian faith: What is freedom for?

Writing to the churches in Galatia, Paul reminds us that Christ has set us free—not simply to do whatever we want, but to become people whose lives are shaped by love, grace, and service. Together we'll consider the difference between freedom rooted in fear and freedom rooted in love, and how the fruit of the Spirit becomes a living witness to Christ in our neighborhoods, workplaces, and communities.

Freedom is not the end of the story. It is the beginning of a life lived for the sake of others

Drawing connections between Joshua's challenge and the story of Juneteenth, we explore how freedom is not the end of the journey, but the beginning of a new calling. Just as those who received the long-awaited news of emancipation had to decide what freedom would mean for their lives, we are invited to consider how we will use the freedom, influence, and opportunities entrusted to us.

Joshua asks, "Choose this day whom you will serve." Juneteenth reminds us that freedom carries responsibility. As followers of Jesus, we are called to use our freedom, gifts, and influence to help create a world where all God's children can flourish.

This week, we launch our summer worship series, We Are Still Alive and Singing a New Song, with a message from Romans 12:9–16b called "Sing Like You Mean It."

After the wind, fire, and wonder of Pentecost comes a very practical question: Now what? What do we do after we've caught a glimpse of what is possible when God's Spirit moves among ordinary people?

Writing to a young church navigating uncertainty, division, and life under Empire, Paul invites Christians not into toxic optimism or easy answers, but into a grounded hope that tells the truth and keeps building anyway. Through practices like genuine love, hospitality, shared joy, shared grief, and community, Paul paints a picture of what resurrection looks like when it becomes visible in everyday life.

This week, on Pentecost Sunday, we conclude our Eastertide series, “What Does It Mean to Be Resurrection People?” with a bold and joyful proclamation: “WE ARE ALIVE!”

Drawing from Acts 2:1–21, we explore how Pentecost is not simply the “birthday of the Church,” but the moment Resurrection bursts into the world through ordinary people filled with the Spirit. Through wind, fire, and holy disruption, the disciples discover that God’s Spirit is still moving people beyond fear, beyond division, and into courageous, compassionate community.

This message speaks directly to the life of the Church today—especially as we begin our shared summer worship journey together as one congregation. Together, we will reflect on what it means to be a Pentecost people: people who carry hope into weary places, who embody justice and love in the world, and who dare to believe that the Spirit is still breathing new life into us, our communities, and the Church itself.

Pentecost reminds us that Resurrection is not just something we believe in—it is something we are called to live.

Continuing our Eastertide series, “What Does It Mean to Be Resurrection People?” with John 17:1–11. Picking up from last week’s message, “You Are Ready,” we ask the next natural question: “Ready for what?”

This is a deeply tender moment from John’s Gospel, where Jesus publicly prays for his disciples before everything changes. Why does Jesus let them overhear this intimate prayer? Perhaps because they need reassurance that they are loved, held, and not abandoned as they prepare for the work ahead.

What does it mean to become a prayed-for people, rooted in grace and sent into the world as witnesses of resurrection, justice, compassion, and hope as we move closer to Pentecost?

As Jesus prepares his disciples for what lies ahead, he offers not exclusion, but trust. In John 14:15–27, we are reminded that the work of love, healing, and belonging does not end with him, but it continues through us. This week, we’ll explore what it means to live as Resurrection people, rooted in relationship with God and one another, and empowered by the Spirit to carry forward a faith that is bold, inclusive, and alive.

This week we explore John 14:1–14 through the voices of Thomas and Philip: the disciples bold enough to ask the questions we still carry today. “How do we know the way?” Rather than offering rigid answers or drawing lines of exclusion, Jesus responds with an invitation: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

Together, we’ll reclaim these words not as tools for gatekeeping, but as a call into a life rooted in love, connection, and belonging. What does it mean to follow the Way of Jesus in a world that often narrows and divides? And how might we, as Resurrection people, live in ways that widen the circle and reflect God’s expansive grace?

“We had hoped…”

In this powerful post-resurrection story, two disciples walk away from everything they thought they understood all while grieving, confused, and unsure what comes next. And yet, without their knowing, Jesus walks beside them. This week’s message reminds us that faith isn’t about always recognizing Christ in the moment, but trusting that we are never walking alone.

In the days after Easter, when the alleluias begin to fade and the world still feels uncertain, we might find ourselves asking: Now what? In John 20:19–31, we encounter Thomas—not as a symbol of doubt to avoid, but as a companion in faith. His questions echo our own as we try to make sense of resurrection in a world that hasn’t fully changed. This Sunday, we’ll explore what it means to be an Easter people who don’t have all the answers, but who continue to show up, seek Christ, and bear witness to resurrection in our everyday lives.

The tomb is empty. Love wins. Now what?

This Easter sermon is a bold, joy-filled proclamation that resurrection is not just something we believe—it’s something we live. In a world marked by grief and brokenness, we are called to rise, to act, and to bear witness to the transforming power of love.

Because resurrection isn’t the end of the story.

It’s the beginning of ours.