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Sermon – 1 Samuel 3.1-20, E2, YB (Annual Meeting), January 17, 2020

20 Wednesday Jan 2021

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Sermons

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action, creativity, difficult, God, Here I Am, Hineni, journey, listening, pandemic, Samuel, Sermon, service, technology

When I was in seminary, our Old Testament Professor would take roll every class.  She told us at the beginning of the semester we could either answer with, “Here,” “Present,” or if we were really bold, “Hineni,” which is the Hebrew word for “Here I am.”  Most of us giggled and several of us used the term throughout the semester.  But what I am not sure any of us realized fully was saying hineni was not simply about practicing our Biblical Hebrew or even taking attendance.  As one scholar explains, the word hineni connotes “a willingness to respond with action to one’s master.”[i]  So all those times we have heard those words uttered in Holy Scripture, “Here I am,” from Samuel, Moses, Abraham, Jacob, to Mary, we are not simply witnessing God taking attendance.  We are witnessing a weighty exchange: from the one who utters the words being willing to respond with action, to the response God offers:  a journey of difficult service.[ii]

As we gather for our Annual Meeting today, I am keenly aware of how much this has been a year of saying hineni to God.  At the beginning of 2020, showing up for God was easy.  We celebrated the ministry of our curate, we welcomed with gusto Presiding Bishop Curry’s message of love, we walked as pilgrims through the music and stones of the Mother Church in England, we sang the spirituals that have accompanied our black brothers and sisters for centuries.  Saying hineni was easy then.

Saying hineni was a lot harder when a pandemic began ravaging our nation, when our buildings closed and all our ministries had to totally transform within days’ notice, when weeks turned to months of separation and mourning for all we missed, when our black brothers and sisters called us to task about the impact of institutional racism in our country, and when political trauma demanded we define our Christian identity.  Saying hineni to God this year has indeed been an experience of being invited into a journey of difficult service.

But saying hineni this year has also been an experience is seeing the heretofore inconceivable.  We went from being a church with zero commitment to broadcasting our services to being a church with daily online worship.  We went from being a church where homebound members only saw an occasional visit to being a church where our homebound could see faces online they know not just in worship, but in formation and fellowship.  We went from being a church who put the onus on others to walk through our church doors to get to know us, to being a church who did drive-by birthday celebrations, online live auctions, and helping newcomers “meet us” without actually meeting us in a what we thought was the best way. 

 When Samuel, in a sleepy, confused stupor says hineni to God three times, he has no idea what is coming.  He is not a priest, he does not know that his priestly mentor will be replaced by himself, he does not know he will anoint kings, take away kingly power, and eventually watch his own sons fail as Eli’s do.  And yet, when Eli helps Samuel understand what he is to do, Samuel responds the fourth time, “Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.”  His response is no longer a sleepy, obligatory response of action, but is a confident, mature embracing of the difficult, but incredible road ahead.

We are entering into another year where God is calling our name too.  The arrival of vaccines at some point this year does not mean as we eventually regather we will simply go “back to normal.”  No, when God calls our name this year, God is inviting us to continue saying hineni to this new journey we are on – one where we continue being committed to sharing the gospel using all the technological gifts at our disposal, where we consider the new ways God has showed us to reach our neighbors in need, where we witness to the unchurched, and where we praise God for the gift of creativity that has always been our gift here at Hickory Neck – and then use that creativity to keep saying hineni to God.  As we look forward to this year, we do not simply sing hineni, “Here I am Lord.”  We also boldly say, “Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.”  Amen.


[i] Cory Driver, “Commentary on 1 Samuel 3:1-10 [11-20]” January 17, 2021, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-after-epiphany-2/commentary-on-1-samuel-31-10-11-20-6 on January 14, 2021.

[ii] Driver.

Sermon – Matthew 25.14-30, P28, YA, November 15, 2020

18 Wednesday Nov 2020

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Sermons

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abundance, adaptive leadership, creativity, crisis, disciple, fear, gifts, God, Jesus, nimble, pandemic, Sermon, sin, talent, vocation, waste

This week your Vestry spent some time talking about adaptive leadership in the midst of a pandemic.  In our conversation, we were reminded of what Winston Churchill once said about World War II:  Never let a good crisis go to waste.  The phrase sounds a bit morbid, whether talking about World War II or this pandemic where over 245,000 people have died in the United States alone.  But what Churchill and our lecturer were trying to communicate were simple.  In a time of crisis, we see and do things differently.  A crisis produces clarity about what is important, what is not, and how we can creatively and boldly make changes for the good.  In a crisis, we are able to make changes and be nimble because fear is pushed aside for the sake of survival.  Basically, crisis strips away all the things that hold us back when life is “normal” and opens up new and fresh ways of being.  From Churchill’s point of view, wasting all that powerful insight and activity would be a waste of the crisis. 

That is what Jesus is getting at in our parable today.  We can easily get caught up in the emotional whiplash of this parable.  The master trusts his servants with inconceivable wealth – anywhere from 15 – 75 years’ worth of wages[i] – and gives them unprecedented freedom to manage the wealth.  Upon the master’s return, he is gracious, full of praise, even welcoming two of the servants into his bosom.  But when the final servant comes forward, the master becomes another person.  He is angry, scolding, and harsh.  He strips the servant of his talent and casts him into the outer darkness.  The discomfort we feel with the behavior of this stand-in for God is natural; but our discomfort can distract us from the master’s valid concern that we allow fear[ii] to stop us from realizing our vocation.

So why is the master so harsh about fear?  The problem is fear distorts every good thing about our nature.  Fear cuts off creativity.  When we are overcome with fear, we cannot be imaginative and playful, coming to new solutions and ways of being.  Fear also messes with our sense of trust.  When we are overcome with fear, we forget the goodness of others, our previous examples of how things have gone well, or even the bold support of our God.  Fear messes with our confidence.  When we are overcome with fear, all the good, powerful, and holy parts of us get riddled with self-doubt and inaction.  And fear messes with our willingness to take risks.  When we are overcome with fear, we cannot do the things that will lead to great payoff. 

Fear in the abstract is a normal reaction in life.  There are certainly ways in which fear fosters a sense of carefulness, one we have needed in this pandemic.  But we have to remember what Jesus is talking about in this parable to understand why the landowner is so harsh about fear.  You see, talents are not just metaphors for the thing things we are good at or even for the money we have in life.  Talents are metaphors for the vocations we each have.[iii]  Each person in this room has a calling.  Some of us are called to particular jobs or courses of study.  Some of us are called to particular roles within families or groups.  Some of us are called to use our gifts in particular ways.  We all have a call, a vocation in life.  And our vocation is affirmed by the skills or materials we are given to live out that call.  Even our parish has a vocation in our community – a call to use our unique mission to further the Gospel of Christ.  The problem with the third servant is he is given what he needs in abundance.  The landowner affirms him, trusts him, and gives him space and time to live out his vocation.  But the third servant allows himself to be so overcome with fear that he does not live out his vocation.  He shuts down creativity, trust, confidence, and risk-taking all because he is afraid.  And that is an ultimate sin for God. 

What this parable invites us to do today is not to see God as a mean, cruel, reactive God that punishes.  Quite the opposite, the parable today invites us to remember that our God is trusting, discerning about our gifts, confident in our abilities, and joyful in our obedience.  God gives each person in this room and our parish of Hickory Neck a vocation, a purpose, in this world, gives us the gifts and encouragement we need to fulfill that vocation, and, ultimately, expects us to go out into the world and boldly take the risk of doing what God has already enabled us to do.  God is telling us not to waste the crisis of this pandemic.  God sees us becoming nimbler, doing “church” differently in ways that reach more people in our community, and embracing the creativity and experimentation that has always made us great.  Letting fear overpower our beauty is not what God desires for us – because God knows we can open new paths previously unimagined.  God knows our willingness to live out our vocation means great things for the world.  As one scholar reminds us, this “…parable is the invitation to the adventure of faith:  the high-risk venture of being a disciple of Jesus Christ.”[iv]  Amen.


[i] Lindsay P. Armstrong, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 309, 311.

[ii] Mark Douglas, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 312.

[iii] Idea presented by Matthew Skinner in the podcast, “SB570 – Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 33)” November 11, 2017, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=948 on November 12, 2020.

[iv] John M. Buchanan, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 312.

On Rituals, Church, and Candy…

05 Thursday Nov 2020

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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children, church, community, connection, creativity, grace, Halloween, incarnational, innocence, Jesus, joy, neighbor, normalcy, pandemic, ritual, safety, trick-or-treat

Photo Credit: https://www.hauntedwisconsin.com/things-to-do/kids-family/trick-or-treat/

Last weekend, I took my younger daughter trick-or-treating.  We spent a long time as parents debating whether we should take our children.  We read scientific articles, talked to other parents, and spent time in long conversations.  Ultimately, we decided to go ahead, making sure we donned our masks, only traveled as a family, and sanitized our hands frequently between houses.  We also talked to our child about how although she may want to greet friends with warm hugs, that night was a night for verbal greetings instead of physical.  Our child did not argue with the restrictions and was simply happy to be going at all.

We embarked at the designated time not knowing what to expect – whether other families with children would be out safely, whether homeowners would respect social distancing and mask wearing, or whether the entire evening would need to be abandoned.  Much to my surprise, the evening went better than I could have hoped.  The number of trick-or-treaters was cut in half, and people mostly respected safe distancing.  Homes distributing candy were also at about fifty percent, and many of those who distributed exhibited tons of creativity:  from baskets of candy lowered from outdoor balconies, to candy “kabobs” planted in yards, to zipline delivery mechanisms, to clotheslines of candy. Many homeowners bagged candy to reduce touching and many seemed to have read the best practices about how to hand out candy.  I was blown away by our neighbors’ thoughtfulness, creativity, and grace.

But what struck me the most was a truth emerging from the whole evening.  If you had asked me or any of my neighbors before Halloween why we were participating in the ritual of trick-or-treating, we probably all would have said we were doing it for the kids:  to give them some sort of normalcy in this crazy, abnormal time.  But as I tucked my child in that night, and thought about all our experiences, I realized a deeper truth.  I think all of us adults participated in the ritual not just because the children needed it; we participated because we needed it.  We needed just one thing to be semi-normal in this super stressful, topsy-turvy world.  And we took our precautions and stretched our creativity, but we participated in a ritual that reminded us of joy, innocence, and community.

In many ways, that is what we are trying to do every week in churches too.  The very essence of Church is incarnational – from how we gather (in large groups), how we worship (using our all our senses, including touch), how we participate in ritual (often kneeling shoulder to shoulder, receiving communion from common dishes, and laying on of hands), to how we interact (from children’s programming and play to Coffee Hours).  With this pandemic, our incarnational essence just is not possible in the same way.  And so, we are worshiping online, we are offering socially distant worship services, and we are gathering on Zoom for pretty much everything – from formation, to fellowship, to learning, and even play.  I know Church right now is not the same, but if Halloween offers any lessons, perhaps it is that participating in the ritual – even an amended and altered ritual – is important for our spiritual, emotional, and physical health.  If you have taken a break from the ritual of Church because it just is not the same (and you are right, it is not), please know that Hickory Neck is here to help you reclaim some of that ritual.  It may be awkward or push your technological abilities.  But I promise, even those unusual connections might just offer the ritual you need to stay healthy and whole!

On Holy Week, Distance, and Hope…

08 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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church, community, Coronavirus, creativity, different, digital, grace, grief, Holy Spirit, Holy Week, hope, intimate, physical, sacrament, technology, tradition

Digital Holy Week

Photo credit:  https://www.brownsvilleherald.com/news/business/the-latest-holy-week-ceremonies-closed-to-public-over-virus/image_b2f632ed-6243-5410-accd-34ccf4865671.html

I remember the first time I was a Rector and planning Holy Week.  I was debating about whether to use the reserve sacrament on Good Friday or not.  I spoke to a priest colleague, and he shared the philosophy of the Rector under which he was serving:  on Good Friday, not even the consolation of the Holy Meal is available to us.

When our staff at Hickory Neck first started talking about Holy Week, we were faced with a stark reality:  there was no way for us to celebrate Holy Week the way we traditionally do.  Sure, we could use technology, and sure, we could try to do parts of what we normally do, but so much of Holy Week is physical and intimate – from waving palms, to washing feet, to kissing crosses, to huddling together around a fire, to having water sprinkled around, to gathering close in the dark, to finally gathering in a huge celebration with large crowds, Easter egg hunts, pictures with friends, and brass instruments.  There just is not a way to create that same feel digitally.  And so, Holy Week would need to be different.

For those of you who know me, you know Holy Week is superlatively special to me – it is my favorite week of the year.  So, for a moment, I grieved that loss, adding it to the long list of things I am grieving during this pandemic.  But then I took a deep breath, made room for Holy Spirit as I relaxed my grip on what I falsely imagined was under my control, and let the creativity flow.  Before I knew it, we were trying evensong for Maundy Thursday – a service we experienced daily on a recent pilgrimage in England.  We were creating a simple, powerful Good Friday liturgy.  And, I was trying for the first time a liturgy I had barely noticed in the Prayer Book – a Holy Saturday liturgy.

Holy Week and Easter will not be the same this year.  But, in all honesty, nothing is the same in this season of life.  If our lives are so distinctly different these days, it makes sense that our liturgies would be different too, as liturgies reflect the life of the people.  Somehow, creating this alternative Holy Week has felt like the Church settling in alongside the community and walking in step with them (from a safe distance, of course!).  Somehow, recognizing grief, discomfort, and sadness has made room for creativity, hope, and grace.  Somehow, experiencing a daily life much more in line with the journey of Holy Week is making Holy Week viscerally palpable, and ultimately healing, life-giving, and strengthening.  We still have a long way to go with this virus and its impact, but I am especially grateful for the gift of Holy Week this year.

Sermon – Matthew 25.14-30, P28, YA, November 19, 2017

22 Wednesday Nov 2017

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Sermons, Uncategorized

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bold, calling, confident, creativity, cruel, discerning, freedom, generous, gifts, God, Jesus, joy, mean, parable, risk, Sermon, servant, talents, trusting, vocation

Our parable from Matthew’s gospel today seems to present two very different versions of God.  When the story opens, the landowner is painted in a positive light.  Within the first line of this parable, we already find a landowner who places a great deal of trust in his servants.  Not only does he trust his servants with his property, he is also thoughtful about what each servant can handle.  Based on their abilities, he give gives one servant five talents, one servant two talents, and the other servant one talent.[i]  Now before we go too much farther, we need to remember that the entrusting of even one talent is a big deal.  You see, a talent is worth about 15 years of what a servant would normally make in wages.[ii]  To the first servant, the landowner is entrusting about 75 years’ worth of wages!  This landowner is not only generous with his property, he communicates a great deal of confidence in these three servants.

The story continues to be remarkable.  Nowhere in the parable does the landowner say, “Okay here are your talents.  Here is how I suggest you manage my wealth.”  No, the landowner leaves, communicating not just generosity, confidence, and trust, but also giving the gift of freedom to each servant.  Implicit is the expectation that they handle the wealth well, but also implicit is the idea that they have some autonomy in their management.

Many years later, the landowner returns, and we find his generous, trusting, encouraging nature continues.  When the first servant tells the landowner of his adventures with the talents, how he is able to double his holdings, the landowner is effusive with praise.  Because he has done such a fantastic job, the landowner says he will reward him with entrusting him to do more.  And then, as if to further prove what a generous landowner he is, the landowner opens his arms widely and says, “enter into the joy of your master.”  What a tremendous gift to this servant who has worked hard, taken on tremendous risk, and hustled for years and years for the sake of his landowner.  We can almost hear the vigorous pats on the back, and imagine the tears welling up in the servant’s eyes as he is affirmed, encouraged, and loved.

But then our story changes.  The third servant seems to evoke a very different version of the landowner.  Clearly the landowner knew the third servant was not as gifted as the others when he only gave the third servant one talent.  Faced with the sudden burden of wealth like he has never seen before, the third servant panics.  He does not want to mess things up or disappoint the landowner.  Unlike the other servants, this servant is full of self-doubt and fear.  And so, he does the best he can.  He goes and he buries the money.  Sure, he does not come back with more like the other servants, but at least he does not come back with less than with what he was entrusted.  To this nervous, timid, perhaps slightly less bright servant, the landowner is suddenly a very different landowner.  The landowner calls the servant wicked and lazy.  The landowner yells at the servant for mischaracterizing the landowner and for being so overcome with fear.  And then, as if the yelling and name-calling is not enough, the landowner strips him of the wealth, gives the talent to the first servant, and then casts the third servant out of his grace and abundance, leaving him in the outer darkness.

So, why is this landowner so kind, generous, and trusting in one breath, and impatient, mean, and cruel in the next?  We have been getting a lot of these kinds of stories from Matthew lately.  First, we got the wedding host who seemed to be generously welcoming all to the party, only to cast someone out who wore the wrong clothing.  Then we got the feuding bridesmaids who refuse to care for one another, and the bridegroom who has no patience for a lack of preparedness.  And then we get today’s parable.  If we simply had just this one instance of God’s harshness or unjust judgment, we could say the parable is an anomaly, a strange outlier.  But given the repeated telling of scary-ending stories, we are cued into the idea that something else is going on in Matthew’s gospel.  Indeed, all of these unsettling parables are what we call eschatological parables – stories about the end times.[iii]  At this point in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is approaching the end of his life.  Instead of continuing to heal, preach, and lovingly teach his disciples, he starts getting real.   I am reminded of one of the first reality television shows that ever aired, MTV’s The Real World.  MTV would pair seven very different individuals and make them live together for a few months.  The tagline of the show was, “This is what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real.”

Understanding that Jesus is facing his immanent death is critical to understanding what is going on with Jesus in these parables.  Any of us who has journeyed with someone who is dying knows that at some point, they stop being polite and start getting real.  This is their last chance to tell others the essentials:  the life lessons learned, the love they want to share, and the stern encouragement they want to give.  Although this landowner seems harsh or even irrationally mean, what he is doing is communicating ultimate significance.

Let’s go back to this third servant.  We know what the third servant does is not all that bad.  He does not squander the entrusted wealth, or act rashly.  He is conservatively prudent and, perhaps based on his skill level, wise to restrain himself.  But ultimately, the landowner is not upset about what the servant does.  The landowner is upset about the servant’s motivation:  fear.[iv]

In a couple of months, our family will be going on a trip that involves a visit to an amusement park.  We have been talking about the park as a family, and most of the members of our family are thrilled.  We have been watching videos about the rides, and the children are getting amped up to try some of the rollercoasters.  I, on the other hand, have no interest in the rides.  I am scared to death of rollercoasters.  I do not like the way they make me feel, I do not like how tense they make me, and I do not like the lack of control I feel when on them.  I gladly prefer to be the “holder of bags” at amusement parks.  But my family has been riding me this time.  They want to experience the adventure with me.  They want to discover which ones are too scary and which ones are just plain fun together.  And yet just talking about that idea has my knees knocking with fear.

That’s the funny thing about fear.  Fear distorts every good thing about our nature.  Fear cuts off creativity.  When we are overcome with fear, we cannot be imaginative and playful, coming to new solutions and ways of being.  Fear also messes with our sense of trust.  When we are overcome with fear, we forget the goodness of others, our previous examples of how things have gone well, or even the bold support of our God.  Fear messes with our confidence.  When we are overcome with fear, all the good, powerful, and holy parts of us gets riddled with self-doubt and inaction.  And finally, fear messes with our willingness to take risks.  When we are overcome with fear, we cannot do the things that will lead to great payoff.

Fear in the abstract is a normal reaction in life.  But we have to remember what Jesus is talking about in this parable to understand why the landowner is so harsh about fear.  You see, talents are not just metaphors for the thing things we are good at or even for the money we have in life.  Talents are metaphors for the vocations we each have.[v]  You see, each person in this room has a calling.  Some of us are called to particular jobs or courses of study.  Some of us are called to particular roles within families or groups.  Some of us are called to use our gifts in particular ways.  We all have a call, a vocation in life.  And our vocation is affirmed by the skills or materials we are given to live out that call.  The problem with the third servant is that he is given what he needs in abundance.  The landowner affirms him, trusts him, and gives him space and time to live out his vocation.  But the third servant allows himself to be so overcome with fear that he does not live out his vocation.  He shuts down creativity, trust, confidence, and risk-taking all because he is afraid.  And that is the ultimate sin for God.

What this parable invites us to do today is not to see this landowner – this stand-in for God – as a mean, cruel, reactive God that punishes.  Quite the opposite, the parable today invites us to remember that our God is trusting, discerning about our gifts, confident in our abilities, and joyful in our obedience.  God gives each person in this room a vocation, a purpose, in this world, gives us the gifts and encouragement we need to fulfill that vocation, and, ultimately, expects us to go out into the world and boldly take the risk of doing what God has already enabled us to do.  No one likes being thrust out of the nest, having to use our wings to sustain us.  But our parable reminds us we can do what we need to do.  We have beautiful wings and our flying will help others, will bring blessing to the world, and will bring us great joy.  Getting scared when God stops being polite and starts getting real is normal.  But letting fear overpower our beauty is not what God desires for us – because God knows you can do it.  God knows your willingness to live out your vocation means great things for the world.  You can do it!  So buckle up and get ready for the ride!  Amen.

[i] Mark Douglas, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 310.

[ii] Lindsay P. Armstrong, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 309, 311.

[iii] Douglas, 308

[iv] Douglas, 312.

[v] Idea presented by Matthew Skinner in the podcast, “SB570 – Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 33)” November 11, 2017, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=948 on November 17, 2017.

Is this me?

20 Wednesday Jul 2016

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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adventure, bold, challenge, change, comfort zone, confidence, creativity, fashion, God, goodness, identity, ministry, new, trust

Changing room

Photo credit:  www.womansday.com/style/fashion/a6531/dressing-room-tips/

Those of you who know me well know that I am not a fashionista.  Though I manage to look pulled-together, that comes with a lot of help – mostly from my patient, much more fashionable husband.  I am constantly asking if things match, if certain shoes go with a particular outfit, or if certain accessories are right.  Over the years, my husband has learned to push me out of my comfort zone (as much as I will allow).  But in trying new looks or styles, invariably the question arises, “Is this me?”

As I have gotten older, I have begun to realize that I am the only one who can answer that question, “Is this me?”  Sometimes the answer is an obvious, “No!”  If I do not like the message the outfit sends, or if I know I will be fidgeting from discomfort, then I will never be confident in the look.  But sometimes the answer is, “It could be – if you want it to be.”  An outfit that obviously fits into your comfort zone does not need analyzing.  It is safe.  But one that is neither safely in the comfort zone nor way out of the comfort zone is in that sweet spot where you have to decide how bold and creative you want to be.  Because sometimes those new shoes bring out something adventurous in you.  Sometimes that new dress makes you a bit more self-assured.  And sometimes that accessory pulls out something inside of you that you did not realize was there.

That question, “Is this me?” is the same question Hickory Neck has been asking in these last months.  We have been through a pretty tremendous transition in leadership and identity.  When I started in April, many of you wondered what having a female rector with young children would look like.  Holding on to the memories of our two most recent rectors, and looking at this new rector, many of us wondered, “Is this me?”  And, then, just this past Sunday, we tried on something else – a Curate.  Now, Hickory Neck has been a two-clergy parish for many years in its past.  But the financial strain of transition and the uncertainty about identity has caused many to wonder if being a two-clergy parish is who we are now.

As our new curate has been settling into his office, I have been thinking that sometimes, the only way to answer the question, “Is this me?” is to just go for it.  Part of the equation will necessitate us being bold enough to live into a new identity under new leadership.  Like with a bold new outfit, we have to put our minds to living fully into the path we have chosen for our future.  But the other part of the equation is remembering how, like putting on a bold new outfit, sometimes our confidence will rise in spite of ourselves.  Just by living into our new identity, our sense of adventure, creativity, and confidence will grow.  Change is hard, and I know many of us this week may be wondering, “Is this me?”  For those of you asking that question, I encourage you to trust that God is at work for goodness among us – pushing us into that sweet spot where tremendous ministry can happen.  I don’t know about you, but I am pretty excited to live into our new look!

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