Recent Messages

The gardener in the vineyard knows the fig tree needs rest, nutrients, and time—and it also needs to produce fruit. Both things are true, which is also true for us. If we are always striving for more growth without taking time to rest, we will burn out. But if we are only ever resting, we won’t bear fruit or grow. The fig tree also teaches us that the in between time—of nurture before fruit—can be where transformation begins.

In many translations, Jesus says that “Mary has chosen the better part,” which has been used to create a divide between Mary and Martha. However, in the Greek, Mary has chosen the “good portion,” and Martha’s tasks are called “ministry.” Therefore, perhaps Mary represents our faith, our desire to know God intimately, and Martha represents our good works, our desire to transform the world. Both are needed, and both are good.

This parable begins and ends with the question, “Who is my neighbor?” and the answer is, surprisingly, “the stranger.” The Samaritan, whose place of worship and customs are different from the scribe who questions Jesus, is both a stranger and a neighbor to the man who was beaten and left in a ditch. In our world, many of our physical neighbors are strangers to us, and many of our neighbors—those closest to us—feel like strangers in divisive political climates. If we align our intentions and actions, then maybe we need to reconsider who we consider “stranger,” and ask ourselves if we have acted as good neighbors.

The “would-be followers” (as the NRSVUE calls them) have good intentions. They want to follow Jesus, but Jesus calls them to put their money where their mouths are. Somewhere between good intentions and impulsive action lies discipleship. On Ash Wednesday, we make a commitment to align our intentions and our actions.

Hope, like the radiance of Moses’ face or the brilliance of Christ’s transfiguration, is not passive or fading—it is dazzling, unconquerable and transformative. This Sunday we discover the glory of God breaking into the ordinary. In both great and small, visible and hidden moments of divine encounter, God’s presence transforms and empowers us to reflect that glory to the world. Yet this hope doesn’t leave us on mountaintops; it descends into the messiness of life, calling us to live with unveiled faces, courageously embodying Christ’s light. As a church reimagining itself as a vibrant hub, we are invited to reflect God’s dazzling hope in our lives, community, and the world.

Joseph’s story illustrates the power of grace to transform suffering into blessing. Descending into slavery and rising to leadership, Joseph uses his position to bring healing and renewal to his family and the wider world. Like Joseph, we are called to use our gifts and power for regenerative purposes, fostering community and care for creation. Reimagining church means recognizing our potential to create ripples of change through radical hospitality, belonging, and partnership. In Christ, we find the courage to forgive, to rebuild, and to embody God’s justice.

Jeremiah contrasts the barren shrub and the flourishing tree, offering a vision of faith deeply rooted in God’s wisdom. Psalm 1 echoes this imagery, celebrating those who delight in God’s law, while Jesus’s Beatitudes challenge us to discern where true blessing lies. As a church rooted in God’s love and justice, we are called to discipline and discernment, cultivating lives that nourish others and steward God’s creation. Together, we practice faithful stewardship and purposeful partnership, growing in grace and extending our roots into God’s sustaining love.

When Jesus calls the disciples to cast their nets, he invites them into a new way of being—a life of faith marked by creativity, courage, and community. As Christ leads them to a miraculous catch, he shows that he is the source of vibrant life and the center of possibility. In reimagining church, we embrace this creative praxis: teaching and doing, reflecting and embodying Christ’s love. Together, we become a community of radical hospitality and belonging, a net wide enough to hold all who seek renewal and purpose.

Paul’s hymn to love is not just poetic; it is the guiding vision of what it means to be alive as Christ’s body. Love is not abstract but embodied—seen in action, decision, and community. As a church reimagining itself as a hub for spiritual growth and care for creation, we are called to anchor everything we do in love. This love celebrates diversity, fosters belonging, and reflects Christ’s call to oneness. We are reminded that faith, hope, and love abide—but the greatest of these is love.