Our summer worship series, The Bible and Economic Justice, continues with a text from Leviticus that invites us to consider how economic systems shape our daily lives. This text raises questions about ownership, such as whether our money and time are truly ours in the way we imagine. The principle of not stealing is well-known, but what defines rightful ownership, and what constitutes theft? This passage from Leviticus also asks how communities like ours can be structured to prevent “theft” by promoting fairness and equity. This solution probably won’t require the installation of a new security system.

This week, Pastor Laura and I will begin a summer worship series on biblical views of economic justice.  I will begin by discussing the radical command of Deuteronomy 15:1, which instructs the community to forgive debts every seventh year, thereby resetting the debt economy and ensuring that no one falls into poverty or accrues generational wealth at the expense of others. 

There is great tension between an economics of scarcity, which views others as competitors for limited resources, and Deuteronomy’s theology of God’s blessing, which insists that there is enough for everyone, if only we can commit ourselves to looking out for the community’s well-being before our own.  Finally, I will explore how just economic practices respect the dignity of the poor and insist that poverty should never confine a person to a life of shame or suffering.

This Sunday, we celebrate Pentecost—the day the Holy Spirit rushed in like wind and fire and filled the followers of Jesus with power and purpose. Our scripture comes from Acts 2:1–21, and we’ll focus especially on verses 2–4, where the Spirit shows up not quietly, but with dramatic force.

It’s a story full of vivid sights and sounds—the roar of wind, the flicker of flame, voices raised in many languages—and it invites us to ask: what does it look and sound like when the Spirit shows up today? Is it always dramatic, or can it also come quietly, like a steady breath or a warm light?

We’ll reflect on how the Spirit equips us to speak with courage, to listen across difference, and to recognize God’s presence breaking in—sometimes with wind and fire, sometimes in ways more subtle but just as powerful. Come with open ears and hearts as we ask together: What might the Spirit want to ignite in us today?

This week, we celebrate PRIDE Sunday. While there are passages in the Bible that have been used to “clobber” our LGBTQIA+ siblings, there are also beautiful verses like the ones above that invite us to consider how the family of faith grows as God continues to speak to us. Paul writes to the church in Galatia about the inclusion of people not of Jewish faith in the early church. “There is no longer Jew or Greek,” he writes, challenging the binaries we impose on people.

In 2025, our call to be an inclusive family of faith continues to grow as we listen to our still-speaking God, especially our growing need to affirm our LGBTQIA+ siblings. On Sunday, we will read Paul’s passionate plea for inclusivity as we reflect on what it means for First Congregational Church to be an increasingly inclusive and affirming family of faith.

“Listening to all words--the silent words of nature, the words of friends and enemies, and the words of scripture--can become an exercise in human yearning and divine response, flowing in and out of one's life like a river current.” ― Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith 

I returned from sabbatical and jumped right back into worship leadership and preaching with Palm Sunday and Holy Week. Our liturgical focus was closely tied to those powerful Gospel stories. So I haven’t had the opportunity to share much from the pulpit about my sabbatical. 

Our Scripture reading this week is from Galatians. Paul is reflecting on how he came to be a believer in Christ. And he writes about what our faith calls us toward. Sometimes the Apostle Paul’s writings can seem like a stark binary of in/out, belief/doubt, etc. More often, life is experienced in between, amidst the reflection and uncertainty. 

This Sunday, I hope to share with you a few reflections from my experiences on sabbatical. From the Sonoran desert in Arizona, to the cliffside overlooking the ocean in Big Sur, and many other places in between, I experienced God’s faithfulness during my sabbatical. I look forward to sharing some of those God moments with you this week!

This Sunday, May 18, 2025, we will celebrate our WISE ministry. This ministry has become a vital source of support and engagement within our church and in the wider community.

A resource from the UCC Mental Health Network says it best: “The sacred stories of our faith traditions offer us hope and encouragement for everyday life. When it comes to mental health and wellbeing, we celebrate the power of faith to positively influence the mental health of our communities. New brain science confirms what our ancestors knew: God’s love has healing power. For emotional, social, and mental wellbeing, faith assures of two protective factors: (1) you are not alone and (2) you are loved.”

This Sunday, we join as part of a global movement of God’s healing Spirit and for sharing hope with people living with mental health challenges, often invisible, yet very real and painful. Coming together to break the silence in worship services, we help end the stigma and shame of mental health challenges.

Have you ever felt like an outsider at church, or known someone who felt that way?  You come to church, and they might let you through the door, but they won’t really let you in.  Maybe it is because your skin is a different color than most of the people there, or you are poor or homeless, or didn’t have a place to take a shower that morning.  Maybe you are gay or transgender or tattooed or just different.  Can you be part of the family of God?

This week, we meet an Ethiopian eunuch in the 8th chapter of the Book of Acts.  His encounter with one of the first Deacons of the emerging Christian church, a man named Philip, faces the question of who can be part of the church head-on.  On Sunday, I’ll invite you to consider that question as well.

Sometimes, when you tell the truth, people don’t like it. That was true for Stephen, one of the first Deacons of the church. The Greek word διάκονος (diakonos), translated “deacon,” literally means, servant. And that is what Stephen and six others in the earliest days of the church were called to do—to serve those in need.  But Stephen also told the truth, and sometimes, telling the truth gets you in trouble. And that’s what happened to Stephen.

On Sunday I will talk about the importance of service, but also the importance of telling the truth about our story. Because sometime servants become holy troublemakers.

 

Pastor Ron

This year, we will read Luke’s account of the women going to the tomb on Easter morning, only to find it empty. When they told the men, they didn’t believe them.  I’ll talk about that on Sunday morning.  But for the worship preview this week, I want to tell you a story about one of the ways I experience resurrection.

I remember a day long ago when my twin daughters were just four years old.  One of them was very angry at me.  I don’t remember the details exactly, but I think it had to do with an extra cookie after dinner.  Heels were dug in on both sides.  As a parent, I knew I could not give in on this one—the future depended on it, or so it seemed to me then—so she was sent to her room.  

She cried for a long while, and after she settled down, her mother went to check on her.  My heart was pretty torn up over the thing, so I stood out of sight in the hallway to see how she was.  Jane sat in the rocking chair, and pouting, the little girl crawled into her lap and handed her a favorite book, The Runaway Bunny, and Jane began to read:

So, he said to his mother, “I am running away.”

“If you run away,” said his mother, “I will run after you, for you are my little bunny.”

“If you run after me,” said the little bunny, “I will become a fish in a trout stream and I will swim away from you.”

“If you become a fish in a trout stream,” said his mother, “I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you.”

“I will become a rock,”

“and I will become a mountain climber and I will climb to where you are.”

“I will become a bird and fly away from you.”

“If you become a bird and fly away from me,” said his mother, “I will be a tree that you come home to.”

Death can’t win—no way—because God’s love will always be a tree to come home to.

Easter creates a tree to come home to.