As you might have guessed, it's been a bit of patchwork in transitioning how we do Sundays right now at CoaH Brookline. You may have noticed that we've gone to a hybrid Zoom/FB model, and that week to week things have been very different. In the midst of all that's going on, we thought it would be good to inform people about how and why our gatherings have evolved, and to keep you in the loop on changes and the reasons for them!

My husband and I recently sat down with our almost four-year-old to have a conversation about race and racism. Truthfully, I was dreading it. Our daughter is kind, silly, and most of all sensitive. She gets tearful at the most seemingly insignificant things. So to bring up the violence and evil of the prior week felt like a challenge I wasn’t quite up to.

“I feel numb.” “I feel weary.” “I feel raw.” These are all responses that I have heard in recent days from many individuals across our church family. It seems everyone is struggling right now in an unusual way. For a myriad of reasons, this moment we are living in feels heavy…

My relationship with the gift of tongues has had a varied history. While never having been a part of a spiritual community that openly encouraged or practiced the gift, my first experience with this gift was when I found myself nonetheless praying fervently in an incomprehensible manner in high school during a revival meeting. I was deeply burdened in my heart for the other students in my high school ministry, and as I mournfully poured out my soul there was suddenly a transition in the words that my mouth uttered.

Two years ago, I went on my first trip out of the country. Mwanza, Tanzania. This was a life changing mission trip for me and the rest of the team. I had not been exposed to that level of poverty and this trip really put things in perspective for me.

During the time when the kings of Israel and Judah reigned, God took something precious away from the prophet Elisha, but gave him something better. Somehow, this story relates to our current situation greatly.

“We are an Easter people, many Christians are fond of saying, emphasizing the triumph of hope and life over fear. But how do an Easter people observe their holiest day if they cannot rejoice together on Easter morning?”

Amy Sullivan brings up an interesting question, and here we dive into the answer.

It seems like an unholy time for Holy Week, the time dedicated to remembering Jesus’ last week leading up to the cross, but that is exactly why we need to press into it.

In our current pandemic, quarantined, social distancing situation, I’ve been feeling like I’ve been missing something crucial to living - not quite like missing a limb, but maybe like missing one of my senses. I’m talking to friends and coworkers over video conferences all the time, and yet feel so distant - the interactions are literally two dimensional rather than three dimensional.

This is certainly a really strange time in which we are living. In all my years of pastoral ministry, I’ve never faced a hurdle quite like this. The COVID-19 pandemic and the loss of face-to-face interaction has left us longing for normalcy and looking forward toward an uncertain future. Yet in the midst of this new normal, we can cling to two promises. Most importantly, God is sovereign (i.e. none of this took him by surprise). Second, Jesus promised that he would build his church and that the gates of hell would not prevail against it.

I feel as though I have lived one thousand days inside this one single day. My two kids have gotten on each others’ nerves for the millionth time. My house is a wreck and I cannot seem to keep it clean. The playgrounds have closed. I miss my family and friends. My anger has gotten the better of me and I have said unkind words to my husband. It hasn’t even been a week of this new season of “social distancing” and I already feel trapped, secluded, anxious. When will all of this end? How am I to survive this? And then I take a breath and realize that I must fight for joy.

Self-reflection is an essential habit in our tumultuous, distracted, and fast-paced culture but self-reflection is an exercise in futility if we don’t intend to change. After all, we will simply find ourselves in the exact same spot at the end of 2020, same struggles, same brokenness, same lack of peace, same frustrations, same anxieties, etc. 

This week on the blog, Brandon, our "Friendly Logistics Guy", shares some information on how and why will be transitioning our church management system from Church Community Builder (CCB) to Planning Center over the next month.

There is something in the human heart that causes us to forget easily. We inadvertently forget about the significant milestones in our lives, the people who have walked with us over the years, and the kindness and joy we have experienced along the way. This forgetfulness is not so much that we lose the memories but that the memories lose their impact on us. The urgency of the moment, the immediacy of the next task, and the frenetic pace of modern urban life all add up to one thing: we don’t spend much time remembering all God has done in and around us.

Advent? Isn't that just a fancy way of saying "the Christmas season"? The time when Christmas songs get sung at church and we begin all of our holiday preparations? It is at least those things, but the Advent season is more than that. It is a season of longing and waiting.

He shall return in robes of white,
The blazing Son shall pierce the night.
And I will rise among the saints,
My gaze transfixed on Jesus' face