"Full to the Brim: An Expansive Life" - Luke 24:1-11 (April 17, 2022)

Luke 24:1-11

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, ‘Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.’ Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Saying things out loud is important.  It’s how we communicate.  It’s how things are named.  It’s how justice is celebrated and oppressive systems are called out.  Part of the work of the Church is to name out loud the places in our world where resurrection is needed.  But equally important is the work of the Church to name out loud those saints who have gone before us, those who have directed our gaze towards those places.  In many African American traditions, saying names out loud is a way to give honor, especially to those who have been marginalized, disinherited, ignored, and whose testimony has been dismissed as an “idle tale.”

And so, on this Easter Sunday, we honor a group of women, and we name them out loud.  Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know.  Today, we honor their testimony by remembering it, celebrating it, and - most importantly - trusting it.

The story of Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know begins with two verbs:  come and find.  They come to the tomb, weary with weeping, weighed down by grief, but they do not allow their lamentation to distract them from the holy task at hand: anointing their teacher’s lifeless body with costly spices, spices no doubt purchased with the very money that Jesus and his disciples depended on to do the work that had ended so abruptly and violently.  They come and they find.  They come to the tomb and they find the stone rolled away.  And not only do they find the stone askew but they find no body in it.  

Which brings us to their next verb.  Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know become perplexed.  What had happened?  Had the body been stolen?  They look at each other, speechless.  They feel the hair on the back of their necks stand up.  The adrenaline begins to course through their veins.

Then, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know are terrified.  They’re terrified because two strange messengers in dazzling clothes appear our of nowhere.  Were these the ones who stole their beloved’s body?  Were these the thieves that robbed them not only of the body of their beloved but also of the opportunity to say goodbye, to anoint him, and - for one last time - to hold the hands that had taken, blessed, broken, and given.  In my sanctified imagination, in this moment of abject terror, I see Joanna throwing her body at the messengers, grasping as if to tackle them where they stand.  In desperation and fear, the other women hold her back, not knowing yet what these strangers are here to do.

Then Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know bow down.  Not in homage or respect but in fear and anger.  Fear and anger do that to you, you know.  They bring you down.  They weigh you down.  Their fear and anger keep their gaze not upon the pink and orange sky of the early morning but upon the gray ground that they think for sure carries the body of their friend.

But then the messengers speak.  They ask why they look for the living among the dead - it’s a really weird question because, you know, dead things stay dead.  He is not here, they say, but he is risen.  And then they give the women a new verb.  They implore them to cast aside their perplexing and their terror and their bowing and to try a new verb on for size:  remember.

Remember, they say, what he said.  Remember when he said that he would have to be crucified and then rise again.  Remember.  Because sometimes the world wants us to forget.

And, so, they remember.  And their remember-ing gives them two more verbs.  Return and tell.

Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know return to the disciples.  They return to the men because they have a truth that needs sharing.  The last verb the women get in this passage is the most important:  tell.  They tell the story.  They tell them that they have seen the empty tomb and the strange messengers and - no, this isn’t some cruel cosmic joke - he is risen.  Jesus is risen.  He’s not dead; he’s alive!

And now that Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know have had their verbs, it’s time for the men to receive their one and only verb in this passage:  do not believe.  They don’t believe the women’s testimony.  In fact, the text tells us that they considered the women’s testimony to be “leiros.”  This is the one and only time that this Greek word is used in all of scripture.  Now, over the centuries, English bible translators (most of them men, I would wager a guess) have found it prudent to soften its English iteration.  It’s usually translated as “idle talk” or “foolish chatter.”  Other times leiros is translated as “nonsense” or even “humbug.”  But all of those are terribly tame translations.  Its original meaning was much more crude.  A more accurate translation in our modern vernacular is “BS.”  

The men say to the Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know, “This is BS.  Y’all are hysterical.  You and your “leiros” need to pick up those spices and go anoint what we’re sure is still a very dead body.”

So let us be clear, my friends: the first Christian sermon, which was preached by a group of women, did not receive rave reviews.  Instead, the first Christian sermon, preached by Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know, elicited a profane response.  

And that profane response came from a bunch of men that should’ve known better.  Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know didn’t go to strangers first.  They went to their friends.  Their colleagues.  Their family.  They took their testimony to the men who literally depended on their dollars to do Christ’s work, the people who knew them better than anyone else in the world, and even they dismiss the women’s testimony as a load a ληροσ.

And you and I don’t have to look too far to see places in our world where the testimony of women and girls on the margins is dismissed in such vulgar ways.  A television talk show host impugning the impeccable credentials of the newest Supreme Court justice, Ketanji Brown Jackson.  A former president telling teenage climate activist Greta Thunberg to “chill” because of her “anger management problem.”  Or the doctor who dismissed the pain of their patient, a woman of color named Roslyn Lewis who, like so many others like her, suffered medical malpractice because of her race.  Or the countless numbers of women and girls - who names are too many to name out loud in this sermon - who do not get the benefit of the doubt that their abusers are so quickly afforded.  All of these injustices replicate themselves when testimony is buried or, we might say, entombed.  But the beauty of Christ’s resurrection is that it demands of those of us who dare to call ourselves his disciples that we unearth testimony and give it its day in court when those who have been oppressed need justice.

Most of you know that I’m a new father of two young girls.  My oldest, Hazel Grace is just shy of two years old and her sister Windsor is three months old.  There may come a day when one or both of them count on me to believe their testimony.  There may come a day when they entrust me with a story that is so important that I’ll have to chose between what makes sense and what is real.  And if and when that moment comes, I don’t want to be like the men in this passage.  I don’t want to live a leiros life.  Do you?  I don’t want to live my life so buried in cynicism that I close myself to the imperishable love of God.  I don’t want to live my life so wrapped up in my privilege that I don’t receive the Good News of the resurrection from someone who doesn’t look like me, or talk like me, or love like me, or vote like me.  I don’t want to live a ληροσ life.  I want to live a life full to brim with the transformative justice of God, a love that refuses to be buried and dismissed.

I want to live a life where I don’t have to understand something to trust in it.  I’m not here today to explain to you the resurrection.  Even if I could, I don’t know that I’d want to; it would take all the beauty out of it.  I’m just here to pass along a story.  I’m here this day because of the testimony of a group of women - by now you know their names - Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and other women whose names we don’t know.  

Those women, they got something to say.  And we have a choice to make.  We can live a leiros life and dismiss as foolishness the truth of the resurrection when it comes to us from the margins (which is where it’s been all along).  Or, we can learn from the foolishness of the men in today’s passage, and we can respond differently.  We can respond with curiosity.  Curiosity of what’s God’s up to in the world, troubling the waters, dividing the seas that stand between our neighbors and the justice God has mothered into the world from the womb of that now gloriously and defiantly empty tomb.  

Friends, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women whose names we don’t know - they were right all along:

Christ is risen.  He is risen indeed.

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, may all of us, God’s children, say:  Amen.

Comment

Stephen Fearing

Stephen was born in 1988 in Cookeville, TN, where his parents met whilst attending Tennessee Tech. Shortly after, they moved to Dalton, Georgia where they put down roots and joined First Presbyterian Church, the faith family that taught Stephen that he was first and foremost a beloved child of God. It was this community that taught Stephen that it was OK to have questions and doubts and that nothing he could do could every possibly separate him from the love of God. In 1995, his sister, Sarah Kate, joined the family and Stephen began his journey as a life-long musician. Since then, he has found a love of music and has found this gift particularly fitting for his call to ministry. Among the instruments that he enjoys are piano, trumpet, guitar, and handbells. Stephen has always had a love of singing and congregation song. An avid member of the marching band, Stephen was the drum major of his high school's marching band. In 2006, Stephen began his tenure at Presbyterian College in Clinton, SC where he majored in Religion and minored in History. While attending PC, Stephen continued to explore his love of music by participating in the Wind Ensemble, Jazz Band, Jazz Combo, Jazz Trio, as well as playing in the PC Handbell ensemble and playing mandolin and banjo PC's very own bluegrass/rock group, Hosegrass, of which Stephen was a founding member (Hosegrass even released their own CD!). In 2010, Stephen moved from Clinton to Atlanta to attend Columbia Theological Seminary to pursue God's call on his life to be a pastor in the PC(USA). During this time, Stephen worked at Trinity Presbyterian Church, Silver Creek Presbyterian Church, Central Presbyterian Church, and Westminster Presbyterian Church. For three years, Stephen served as the Choir Director of Columbia Theological Seminary's choir and also served as the Interim Music Director at Westminster Presbyterian Church. In 2014, Stephen graduated from Columbia with a Masters of Divinity and a Masters of Arts in Practical Theology with an emphasis in liturgy, music, and worship. In July of 2014, Stephen was installed an ordained as Teaching Elder at Shelter Island Presbyterian Church in Shelter Island, NY. Later that year, Stephen married the love of his life, Tricia, and they share their home on Shelter Island with their Golden Doodle, Elsie, and their calico cat, Audrey. In addition to his work with the people who are Shelter Island Presbyterian Church, Stephen currently serves as a commission from Long Island Presbytery to the Synod of the Northeast and, beginning in January of 2016, will moderate the Synod's missions team.

"Redeeming Thomas" - John 20:19-31 (April 24, 2022)

John 20:19-29

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Sara, in the book of Genesis, doubted that she would ever get pregnant in her old age.  So she laughed when the angel told her it was time to go shopping for maternity wear.  

Peter, in the Gospels, started to walk on water, and then he started doubting, and he sank until Jesus saved him.

Moses, in the book of Exodus, doubted his abilities to stand up to Pharaoh, and yet God used him to deliver the Israelites from captivity.

And yet, the funny thing is, we don’t call Sara “Doubting Sara” or Peter “Doubting Peter.” Last time I checked, I’ve never heard someone refer to Moses as “Doubting Moses.”  Yet, for some reason, nearly two millennia later, we still are taught to refer to Thomas as “Doubting Thomas.”

What a shame.

It’s just not fair when you think about it.  How may of us would shudder to think that one moment of doubt might singularly define us so many years after the fact?  Lord knows I’ve had plenty of moments of doubt in my lifetime.  Heck, I had plenty of moments of doubt this week!

I doubt that this current lull in COVID-19 cases will last.

I doubt the ability of our country to get past petty culture wars and actually focus on real policies that help people.

I sometimes doubt my abilities as a pastor, a husband, as as preacher and teacher.

And, you know what, I doubt God sometimes.  There have been times that, because of my doubt, I’ve stuck myself on the boat watching a braver disciple journey out onto the stormy waters.  There have been times that my doubt has caused me to speak up when I should have stayed silent and to stay silent when I should have spoken up.

So, let’s remove the stigma, shall we?  Doubt is not something to be ashamed of, it’s something to learn from.  The largest moments of learning in my life have been during times of my deepest doubt.  Without doubt, I believe there can be no true faith.  Faith is about living with doubt, not pretending it doesn’t exist.  

So, let’s cut Thomas a break for heaven’s sake.  Enough with the condescending monikers.  Enough with the doubt-shaming.  Enough with stupid argument that if you doubt less God will give you more.  Enough!  Let’s look at this passage with fresh eyes and let’s redeem our friend, Thomas.

Thomas wasn’t there when Jesus appeared to the rest of the disciples.  We don’t know where he was, we only know that he wasn’t fearfully locked in a room, too scared to walk outside.  Maybe he was going for a stroll to process his grief at the death of his friend and savior.  Maybe he was tired of hiding.  Maybe he was going out to get some food to feed his friends whose fears kept them frozen, fettered, and famished.  

All we know is that Thomas wasn’t there.  He didn’t get the benefit of seeing Jesus they way his other friends did.  They saw Jesus’ body and he didn’t.  And so, when Thomas came back, he needed proof because, you know, HE’S HUMAN!  And, honestly, who among us can blame him?  Who among us can honestly say that they wouldn’t have demanded proof had they been in Thomas’ shoes.  It’s easy for us to say we wouldn’t have doubted, but the fact is we have 2,000 years of telling the story of Jesus’ resurrection that Thomas didn’t have access to.

So, when Thomas returns, the disciples preach the second ever Christian sermon to him, they say “We have seen the Lord.”  I say it’s the “second” Christian sermon because the first one was preached by Mary a few verses prior (“I have seen the Lord!”).  After hearing this sermon, this testament to the resurrection, Thomas does not believe.  It’s just too much to take in at once without physical proof in front of him.  It would have been a hard enough thing to take in under the best of circumstances but let us not forget that Thomas is grieving.  Thomas has experienced trauma.  He has witnessed the violent death of his friend.  He is grieving.  And grief obscures reality.  Grief makes us numb and separates us from the reality of the love around us.  Thomas’ grief was certainly a factor in his doubt.

He demands proof.  And he doesn’t just demand any proof.  He demands a very specific proof.  He demands not just to see Jesus’ body but explicitly asks to see his wounds.  It’s all about the scars.  Thomas doesn’t doubt that his friends saw someone.  Perhaps he doesn’t even doubt that his friends saw Jesus.  But, for Thomas, he wants to know that the Jesus that they saw is not some white-washed Jesus devoid of the suffering that made his savior his human savior.  Thomas wanted to see the scars because, for him, the suffering of Christ meant something.  

You see, Thomas’ grief was so real.  He needed something equally as real to heal it.

And so, Thomas looked for the marks.  Some people want a resurrection with no crucifixion.  Some people want to skip all that messy stuff during Maundy Thursday and Good Friday and fast forward to the joy of Easter.  But the joy of Easter is empty without the journey of the days before it.  Thomas, for whatever reason, wanted to hold the two in tension with each other.  He wanted a resurrection that didn’t gloss over the brokenness of the world.  Thomas looked for the marks.  

And other folks are looking for the marks as well.  You see, there are many people out in the world who are looking for the marks on Jesus’ hands and the mark on his side where the spear pierced him.  Because those marks are marks of proof that Jesus’ did not remain at a safe distance from the brokenness and suffering of the world.

My New Testament professor, Elizabeth Johnson, says the following of today’s story:

“People are waiting to see the marks.  They are not looking for the marks in Jesus’ hands and side anymore.  They wait instead to see the marks of the Church - the wounds in our hands and our sides - the evidence that we are really connected to the Jesus who was crucified and raised…

“The marks that matter today are not the ones in Jesus’ hands and side, but the ones in our communities….So many of the stories we hear of people without faith include their disillusionment with the church as we know it, our failure to make real what we profess.

“What people are looking for, at heart, is some legitimate and trustworthy connection with the Divine…John says…that we find it in the wounded body of Jesus.”

Thomas found his faith in the wounded body of Jesus.  Thomas saw the scars and believed.  Thomas saw the scars that left their violent mark on the innocent body of Jesus and says, with holy awe, “My Lord and my God!”  

We here at Beaumont Presbyterian Church do not proclaim the resurrection of Jesus Christ as if it magically removes the pain of the world.  We don’t sing the alleluias as if the kyries don’t exist.  Because of Thomas’ insistence that we bear witness to the scars of Christ’s body, it means that we - the Body of Christ - must bear witness to those scars as well.  We bear witness to these scars by acknowledging the frank reality that there are wounded folks all around us and among us.  

Because of Thomas’ insistence, I’m reminded that we must not only proclaim the resurrection in the comfort of our sanctuary but in the discomfort of the wounded places in the world around us.

We proclaim the resurrection in the hospital waiting room.

We proclaim the resurrection at the Lexington Pride festival.

We proclaim the resurrection in the offices of the politicians who worship power instead of peace.

We proclaim the resurrection in the midst of those who bear the scars placed on their bodies by racism, lack of affordable healthcare, and economic disparity.

We proclaim the resurrection in the places where many of us choose to avoid because our privilege allows us to pretend as if it all doesn’t exist.

You see, there are many Thomas’ around us, that are looking for the scars on the Body of Christ, A.K.A. the Church.  And we have a choice.  We can hide those scars or we can show them.  We can hide the scars of the resurrection by providing empty worship where people can come to feel good about themselves and temporarily escape the brokenness of the world.  That brand of Christianity is one of the reasons that denominations such as ours having been in sharp decline for decades.  Many people, especially younger folks like me, have become rather adept at sniffing out the churches that hide the scars of the resurrection; the ones that are far more interested with making people comfortable than inviting them into the inconvenient world of discipleship.

Or, instead of hiding our scars, we can show them.  We can acknowledge the scars of Christ by standing with other scarred folks and prophetically calling out and condemning the reasons for those scars.  Because if Christ ignored his scars, then we could justify ignoring the scars of others.   But Christ does not give us such convenience.  Instead, like our faithful friend, Thomas, we will bear witness to the scars by leaving this place and doing the work of God.

Like Thomas, we will not be locked in this room in fear.  We will leave this room, this time, with the proof that we need.  We gather as doubters and leave, not without doubt, but with resurrection hope!  Doubt is what drives us forward.  Doubt is what keeps us taking courageous steps “out of the boat” in order to follow our savior boldly.  Doubt and faith are NOT opposite ends of the spectrum!  Doubt and faith are both gifts that can be held together in beautiful tension with one another.  But, as we do so, let us join Thomas in looking for the marks of oppression, in order that we might stand against such in the name of our resurrected Christ!

In the name of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.  Amen.

Comment

Stephen Fearing

Stephen was born in 1988 in Cookeville, TN, where his parents met whilst attending Tennessee Tech. Shortly after, they moved to Dalton, Georgia where they put down roots and joined First Presbyterian Church, the faith family that taught Stephen that he was first and foremost a beloved child of God. It was this community that taught Stephen that it was OK to have questions and doubts and that nothing he could do could every possibly separate him from the love of God. In 1995, his sister, Sarah Kate, joined the family and Stephen began his journey as a life-long musician. Since then, he has found a love of music and has found this gift particularly fitting for his call to ministry. Among the instruments that he enjoys are piano, trumpet, guitar, and handbells. Stephen has always had a love of singing and congregation song. An avid member of the marching band, Stephen was the drum major of his high school's marching band. In 2006, Stephen began his tenure at Presbyterian College in Clinton, SC where he majored in Religion and minored in History. While attending PC, Stephen continued to explore his love of music by participating in the Wind Ensemble, Jazz Band, Jazz Combo, Jazz Trio, as well as playing in the PC Handbell ensemble and playing mandolin and banjo PC's very own bluegrass/rock group, Hosegrass, of which Stephen was a founding member (Hosegrass even released their own CD!). In 2010, Stephen moved from Clinton to Atlanta to attend Columbia Theological Seminary to pursue God's call on his life to be a pastor in the PC(USA). During this time, Stephen worked at Trinity Presbyterian Church, Silver Creek Presbyterian Church, Central Presbyterian Church, and Westminster Presbyterian Church. For three years, Stephen served as the Choir Director of Columbia Theological Seminary's choir and also served as the Interim Music Director at Westminster Presbyterian Church. In 2014, Stephen graduated from Columbia with a Masters of Divinity and a Masters of Arts in Practical Theology with an emphasis in liturgy, music, and worship. In July of 2014, Stephen was installed an ordained as Teaching Elder at Shelter Island Presbyterian Church in Shelter Island, NY. Later that year, Stephen married the love of his life, Tricia, and they share their home on Shelter Island with their Golden Doodle, Elsie, and their calico cat, Audrey. In addition to his work with the people who are Shelter Island Presbyterian Church, Stephen currently serves as a commission from Long Island Presbytery to the Synod of the Northeast and, beginning in January of 2016, will moderate the Synod's missions team.

"Release" - Deuteronomy 15:1-11 & Matthew 19:16-22 (October 11, 2020)

"Release" - Deuteronomy 15:1-11 & Matthew 19:16-22 (October 11, 2020)

Loving your neighbor is a costly endeavor. It is. It isn’t easy. It takes commitment, it takes self-discipline, it takes humility and compassion. But the cost of loving our neighbor, the cost of economy of grace, releases us to other things. This country desperately needs a jubilee year because we have much we need to release.

Read More

"Remember" - Exodus 16:1-18 & Luke 22:1-23 (October 4, 2020)

"Remember" - Exodus 16:1-18 & Luke 22:1-23 (October 4, 2020)

We prayed for the President, difficult though it was, because I don’t want my daughter to learn that we only pray for people we like. We prayed for the President because I want my daughter to remember this story about Jesus welcoming Judas to his Table.

Read More

"Breaking the Cycle" - Matthew 18:21-35 (September 13, 2020)

"Breaking the Cycle" - Matthew 18:21-35 (September 13, 2020)

So, dear friends, if you are dismayed, discouraged, and disgusted by what you see around you, then do your part to break the cycle. Practice radical forgiveness. Practice it with me over and over and over and over and over again. And then, bit by bit, we might just heal the wounds of this world in Jesus’ name. Together, you and I can compose a different version of today’s parable - one where we replace cycles of vengeance with cycles of persevering peace.

Read More

"Esther Plots. Haman Whines" - Esther 5-6 (July 26, 2020)

"Esther Plots.  Haman Whines" - Esther 5-6 (July 26, 2020)

But just because the Book of Esther causes us to laugh doesn’t make it a simple or “safe” book of the Bible. Those of us hearing this text would do well to ask ourselves about times in our lives when we’ve acted like Haman or Ahasuerus. As a privileged white man reading this story, this text forces me to ask myself of times when I’ve allowed my privilege to harm those around me who are marginalized. And that, certainly, is no laughing matter.

Read More

"Superman, the KKK, and the Empty Tomb" - Esther 1 (July 5, 2020)

"Superman, the KKK, and the Empty Tomb" - Esther 1 (July 5, 2020)

We come to this Table to join the voices of those who are crying out for justice. We come to this Table to join forces with the “Vashtis” around us who have suffered the consequences of standing up to the patriarchy, those who have suffered the consequences of standing up to white supremacy and racism, those who have suffered the consequences of standing up to homophobia and any other ideology that opposes God’s justice.

Read More

"A Spacious Place" - Psalm 66 (May 17, 2020)

Comment

Stephen Fearing

Stephen was born in 1988 in Cookeville, TN, where his parents met whilst attending Tennessee Tech. Shortly after, they moved to Dalton, Georgia where they put down roots and joined First Presbyterian Church, the faith family that taught Stephen that he was first and foremost a beloved child of God. It was this community that taught Stephen that it was OK to have questions and doubts and that nothing he could do could every possibly separate him from the love of God. In 1995, his sister, Sarah Kate, joined the family and Stephen began his journey as a life-long musician. Since then, he has found a love of music and has found this gift particularly fitting for his call to ministry. Among the instruments that he enjoys are piano, trumpet, guitar, and handbells. Stephen has always had a love of singing and congregation song. An avid member of the marching band, Stephen was the drum major of his high school's marching band. In 2006, Stephen began his tenure at Presbyterian College in Clinton, SC where he majored in Religion and minored in History. While attending PC, Stephen continued to explore his love of music by participating in the Wind Ensemble, Jazz Band, Jazz Combo, Jazz Trio, as well as playing in the PC Handbell ensemble and playing mandolin and banjo PC's very own bluegrass/rock group, Hosegrass, of which Stephen was a founding member (Hosegrass even released their own CD!). In 2010, Stephen moved from Clinton to Atlanta to attend Columbia Theological Seminary to pursue God's call on his life to be a pastor in the PC(USA). During this time, Stephen worked at Trinity Presbyterian Church, Silver Creek Presbyterian Church, Central Presbyterian Church, and Westminster Presbyterian Church. For three years, Stephen served as the Choir Director of Columbia Theological Seminary's choir and also served as the Interim Music Director at Westminster Presbyterian Church. In 2014, Stephen graduated from Columbia with a Masters of Divinity and a Masters of Arts in Practical Theology with an emphasis in liturgy, music, and worship. In July of 2014, Stephen was installed an ordained as Teaching Elder at Shelter Island Presbyterian Church in Shelter Island, NY. Later that year, Stephen married the love of his life, Tricia, and they share their home on Shelter Island with their Golden Doodle, Elsie, and their calico cat, Audrey. In addition to his work with the people who are Shelter Island Presbyterian Church, Stephen currently serves as a commission from Long Island Presbytery to the Synod of the Northeast and, beginning in January of 2016, will moderate the Synod's missions team.

"Once...But Now..." - 1 Peter 2:2-10 (May 10, 2020)

"Once...But Now..." - 1 Peter 2:2-10 (May 10, 2020)

Today’s text reads a bit like a pep talk; as if it’s given to a people who are feeling weary and worn down. It reads as if its words aren’t written to an infant, but to an adult who needs to be reminded of where they came from. And the truth is that we all need reminding from time to time of how we’ve been nurtured by our Mother God, who feeds us with truth, grace, justice, and steadfast love.

Read More

"Back to the Basics" - Acts 2:42-47 (May 3, 2020)

"Back to the Basics" - Acts 2:42-47 (May 3, 2020)

So, my question for us this day is this: how can we resist the urge to “go back to the way things were” and instead position ourselves to become something new, renewing our focus on the basics of what it means to be a Christian community.

Read More

"Mama C" - Luke 24:13-35 (April 26, 2020)

"Mama C" - Luke 24:13-35 (April 26, 2020)

Friends, the Resurrected Christ is made known to us in the breaking of bread. That simplest of acts. And Mama C taught me and so many other students that. You see, at the end of the day, the Gospel is not proclaimed so much by eloquent sermons, or fancy church buildings, or huge choirs, or whatever else. At the end of the day, the Gospel is proclaimed simply by breaking bread with one another.

Read More

"With Fear and Great Joy" - Matthew 28:1-10 (April 12, 2020)

"With Fear and Great Joy" - Matthew 28:1-10 (April 12, 2020)

The resurrection doesn’t need us to do anything. But we most certainly need the resurrection. And the resurrection is the most relentless force in creation. And that, my friends, is joyful news. And while that may not do away with our fear, it certainly gives us something beautifully potent to hold in tension with it.

Read More

"Hosanna People" - Matthew 21:1-11 (April 5, 2020)

"Hosanna People" - Matthew 21:1-11 (April 5, 2020)

I suspect many of us are crying “hosanna” this day. We want to be saved. We want to leave the confines of our homes, if we are lucky enough to have a roof over our head. We want be able to hug our friends again. We want to meet our new grandchildren. We want to go to the grocery store without the anxiety and fear. We want to get back to our jobs. We want to see where our next paycheck is coming from. We want to get back to normal.

Read More

"Lingering in the Tomb" - John 11:1-45 (March 29, 2020)

"Lingering in the Tomb" - John 11:1-45 (March 29, 2020)

So friends, resurrection is coming. But not yet. For now, we’re still stuck in the tomb with Lazarus. We’re holed up in our homes and cancelling all public gatherings. And that has disrupted every aspect of our lives. So, amid the grief, know this: that all of the sacrifices we’re making are for a higher purpose - to protect those around us who are most vulnerable. And if that’s not the work of the Gospel, I don’t know what is.

Read More