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.