• Welcome
• Worship
• Meet Our Staff
• Sermons
• Photos
• Our Labyrinth
• Useful Information
• Links & Resources
• Find Us

Sunday
spoken eucharist - 8 am
bible study - 9 am
sung eucharist - 10 am

Wednesday

services begin at 7 pm

healing service (1st, 3rd)

evening prayer (2nd,4th)

eucharist (5th)

This is a particularly difficult Sunday for me upon which to preach a Sermon … not because it’s the First Sunday in Lent (which it is), not because the last week has been one of those weeks for me that was full of the changes and chances of life as the Vespers prayer says (it was) … not even because the Time of Spring Allergies has struck with a vengeance (which it has).

It is a difficult Sunday for me to preach because on this day six years ago our son died.

I remember thinking to myself in the days, weeks, and even months that followed Bart’s death … will there ever be a time when I do not think about him and his dying?  Will there ever be a time when I don’t talk about it?  Will there ever be a time when I will find joy again, and the world which for me had turned to black and white will once again be turned into colour?

And, when, I asked myself, will it feel as if it is not always Lent?

Well … there is not a time when I do not think about him, there are times when I do not talk about it, and I have found joy again, and the world has from time to time changed back into colour … but there is a lot of life which for me feels deeply as this Season of the Church Year feels.  And so that is the title of this Sermon, “Sometimes It’s Always Lent.”

The key word is sometimes.  Because, as you know, when a loved one dies, life changes.  And while some people say that time will heal the wound of someone dying, that is not true.  Time does not heal the wound, but it takes time to be healed.

Bev and I entered a wilderness that spring 6 years ago which we would rather have avoided, rather have walked around.  I have placed several pictures and drawings on the cover of the Bulletin this morning all of which have to do with the Gospel Reading … the Baptism and Temptation of Jesus.

The one that is in the upper left hand corner is the one I keep looking at, and could not delete from my collection of illustration files.

It shows a Jesus sitting on a rock in the deserted place … alone … unattended … wondering … feeling abandoned … simply there in the heat and drying wind … forlorn.

It is my image of the Temptation of our Lord, it also the one that comes closest to the wilderness feeling I have after losing my son.

Can there be a worse thing?  Yes, but that is not the point.  The point is that Lent for me has been, is now, and I’m certain always will be that place, that time, that season where I feel like Jesus in that image.

It is not that there is no hope, it is not that pain lasts forever, it is not that grieving does not ease its grip … it does.  But death of one so dear, so close, so held in arms of life … brings a time and a season of its own and as we have learned to say, Grief is the cup that bears our sorrow … that is true for all of us.

It cannot go away in three days, nor should it.  Oh yes, there are some who cannot bear to see others mourn and so they do not talk about the one who has died, beyond the funeral, they avoid contact as if the grieving one has some communicable disease that will be instantly transferred by mere association or close presence.

Some avoided Jesus for the very same reason …

You did not do that, some did, some always will … but you, dear brothers and sisters, became for us even more of what you are, a community of love and hope … as you have been and are and will be for all who mourn within this family of faith, and beyond it as well.

I am so very thankful that you are my parish, and every day I hold each of you in my prayers and in my heart.

You are a place of strength and healing, a community where all are welcome, where those who are searching for hope are invited with open arms.  The Holy One lives through you and for that I give thanks every day.

+ Deo Gratia