Resurrection is far more than an abstract promise of distant reward, it is a new way of seeing and being in the world today. At a time in which many “Christian” voices are anything but Christ-like, may the light of Jesus’ new day transform judgement and condemnation into ever-expanding embrace. There’s a seat for ALL at the table of grace. Halleluiah, He is risen indeed!

Given what little we know about Jesus’ precise activities preceding his unjust imprisonment, punishment, and death, we ought to take special note of the practices in which he engaged and especially those he repeated in his final hours. Through two consecutive stories of foot washing, the author of the stars embodied the humble servant, that we might do the same.

Jesus tells a story of a fruitless fig tree, and later encounters one along the roadside. In one case, we witness God’s boundless mercy, and in the other, see how the “performance” of fruitfulness ends in a withering curse. In this Lenten season, might we all give up the act?

This week marks the beginning of our yearly pilgrimage through the “desert” of Lent. Jesus wasn’t the first biblical figure to spend forty days in the wilderness. Join us in considering Elijah’s fearful exile, and the multifaceted care God brings in the midst of his trial.

To begin 2025, we are looking to Jesus’ parables as a lens through which we might better see and live into God’s Kingdom in the messy here and now; not a distant destination, but a present, parallel reality which we have a hand in cultivating.

We live amid a culture that glorifies and covets exclusivity, who’s in and who’s out. When all that the expected guests can muster are excuses for their absence, whom might the gracious host invite in their place? Spoiler alert, it’s everyone.

To begin 2025, we are utilizing a series of Jesus’ parables as a lens through which we might better see and live into God’s Kingdom in the messy here and now; not a distant destination, but a present, parallel reality which we have a hand in cultivating. In this third entry, we look to the familiar story of a wounded stranger on the roadside and consider the responses of those who happen to be passing by.

To kick off the New Year we’ll be considering a series of Jesus’ parables, and how they invite us to see and live into God’s Kingdom in the messy here and now; not a distant destination, but a parallel reality that is always breaking through in glimmers and one which we have a hand in creating. In this second week, we look to mustard leaves and yeast to consider the explosive and surprising manner in which God brings certain things into growth.

To kick off the New Year we’ll be looking to a series of Jesus’ parables as an invitation to see and live into God’s Kingdom in the messy here and now; not a distant destination, but a parallel reality that is always breaking through in glimmers and one which we have a hand in creating.

For the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we look to the elusive text of Revelation and discover an unlikely vision of Christmas hope. In our time of intense conflict and anxiety, how might the presence of an unexpected visitor to the manger help us to receive anew the gift of Christ’s coming as a warning to the powerful and hope to the hopeless?

During what can easily become the noisiest, most chaotic time of year, how might we embrace an intentional quiet to center our attention on the enchanted power of God’s Incarnation? Considering an often overlooked portion of the Christmas story, we witness how the gift of holy silence prepared the hearts of a faithful couple to receive the new thing that God was preparing.

The season of Advent arrives once again to shake us from our spiritual slumber; to hear and respond to the desert call of our newborn King. Will our hearts prepare him room?

The corrupt systems of worldly power would like nothing more than for you to believe that the “other” is your enemy rather than your sibling. In a time of ceaseless division and upheaval, empathy is critical to develop if these fractures are ever to be mended. As Jesus arrives to meet friends in the midst of grief, what does his response reveal about the heart of God?

Reflecting upon several core values we hope to embody as a community, we consider generosity through the encounter of Jesus and a disgraced tax collector. Zacchaeus’ greed brought no satisfaction, only distance from relationship, until Jesus calls him by name into the unexpected possibility of reconciliation.

In a culture obsessed with performance and comparison, it is easy to be misread Jesus' parable through the lens of judgment, fixated on the condition and “fruitfulness” of the soil. But what if God has lovingly hidden a better, truer story in plain sight? The choice is yours.

Humanity has always desired a “king” to swoop into the mess of the world and fix everything for us, rarely considering the oppressive realities which often occur as a result of placing our trust in earthly rulers. In the midst of a starkly divided, and deeply disorienting election season, we are reminded that our allegiance is not to any state or nation or party or hollow political promise. We pledge a higher allegiance.

Even with the compassion of Jesus directly in front of him, Peter cannot help but let his attention be drawn into comparison with the so-called “beloved” disciple now arriving to the scene. “What about [them]?” is a question we all navigate to some degree, as though certain that others must experience a greater divine favor. Join us as we seek to dismantle that destructive lie, and allow yourself to receive the boundless love of God meeting you precisely where and as you are.

Having been part of a crowd of five thousand fed with only a few loaves of bread, a group crosses the Sea of Galilee in search of Jesus, as their hunger has now returned. Jesus’ response echoes the deliverance of Exodus, and a renewed invitation to abide in the promise of daily provision. In a relentless world of FAST and MORE, rhythms of Sabbath and sanctuary help to restore our humanity and humility as finite beings.

In the Creation story, God empowers humankind to a shared vocation of care and service, which Adam rejects by separating himself from Eve in an act of othering and blame. Power over the “other” has divided humanity in conflict ever since. Jesus upends this dynamic with his disciples, granting them shared power to join in the collaborative work of his New Creation. How will we as a community embody that renewed call to mutuality and shared stewardship?

When Jesus heals a blind man in Bethsaida, it doesn't happen all at once, the full restoration of his sight only coming after a second pass. We either settle for the blur of "walking trees", or look more closely, discovering perhaps that when God's presence comes into focus, hope for everything else seems to as well.

As we inhabit a time of civilizational turbulence, the individual and communal experience of worry is inevitable. As Jesus shares wisdom from a hilltop, he invites the gathered crowd to consider how deeply their (our) anxieties are rooted in control and isolation in the face of challenging and unjust realities. What might a practice look like to respond to anxiety with a humble awareness that begins to draw us out of ourselves, and into connection and active hope?