The Message
 
On the First Sunday of Advent, when we began our sermon series titled, What Do You Fear?, we took time during worship to write down our fears.
 
Those fears were held in our sacred box and have been carried with us through our Advent journey.
 
And today, we have the opportunity to symbolically release those fears.
 
Originally when I began planning this sermon series, I thought maybe we would release our fears by burning them.
 
But that seemed like not the best idea, so I had to come up with a different (safer) method for releasing our fears.
 
But before we do that, I want to talk about what it means to move from fear to hope.
 
And, I’d like to use today’s scripture to do that.
 
Today, we heard how an angel appeared to Joseph in a dream and told him he could go ahead and marry Mary because the baby she was having was from the Holy Spirit.
 
As we can imagine, both Mary and Joseph must have been filled with fear.
 
In their world, having a baby out of wedlock was not safe for either of them.
 
They would both be shamed, ridiculed, and their lives might be in danger.
 
And yet, despite their fears, both Mary and Joseph decide to proceed forward.
 
They both say yes to divine intervention.
 
And in doing so, they don’t necessarily eradicate their fears.
 
Instead, they release their fears. They lift them to God and decide to trust God completely. They decide to trust that God has it under control.
 
And this trust in God makes room for hope. It isn’t that they are completely free from fear.
 
But they release that fear to God and move forward in hope – hope for a new life and a better world with the presence of the Son of God.
 
They don’t know where this path will take them, but they hold onto hope in the promised future nonetheless.
 
So today, I would like for us to follow their lead.
 
Let us take these fears that we thoughtfully and prayerfully wrote three weeks ago and let’s lift these fears to God.
 
Let us release them and trust that God will hold them for us.
 
And as we release these fears, let us move toward hope.
 
We may not be able to completely erase the fear, nor does God expect us to.
 
But as we release these fears to God, let us lift them in prayer and ask God to hold them on our behalf so we can make room for hope despite the fear.
 
When we wrote our fears, we used special paper. This paper is special because it dissolves in water.
 
So, as I place our fears into this bowl of water, I invite us all into a time of silence. Use this time to remember the fears you wrote, or perhaps new fears have come up in the past few weeks.
 
Pray over each person’s fears as we place them into the bowl of water and watch them dissolve.
 
Pray over your hope that comes out of your fears. Pray over the coming of the celebration of the birth of Jesus.
 
Pray over your hope for the Christmas season, and your hope for the New Year.
 
Pray over the fears of this community, and ask that God would hold those fears and move each of us gently toward hope.
 
Let us lift our fears to God during this time of silence as I symbolically release our fears by dissolving them in this water.
 
When this process is complete, I will ring our singing bowl.
 
*****
Now that we have released our fears to God, I want to suggest another activity that people can do during fellowship time if they wish.
 
This activity might be hard for some of us adults in the room.
 
But, I decided to offer this activity anyway because adults need opportunities to be creative and have fun, too.
 
Originally I was going to have us work on this during worship, but I realize that not everyone would enjoy doing it, and it would be tough for you to do without a table.
 
I’d just like to remind you that it’s supposed to be fun, and it is supposed to be a reminder that despite our fears, we can also be filled with hope.
 
And what better way to remind ourselves of our hope than to act like kids again for at least a few minutes.
 
So, if you would like, you can feel free to make an ornament that you are free to take home with you.
 
I suggest creating an ornament that reminds you of hope, but you can do whatever you’d like on your ornament.
 
There are plenty of markers available at the tables out in the fellowship area.
 
I would encourage you to try it, even just for a few minutes, and tap into your inner child.
 
Who knows what joy you might experience in doing a small project with others. If nothing else, it may be a reminder of our days of youth.
 
And in the meantime, as you leave here, where does your hope lie?
 
May you lift your fears to God and leave more room in your heart for hope.
 
May you allow that hope to swell and begin to displace your fears as you allow God to carry them for you.
 
May you move out of Advent and into the Christmas season with hope and joy in your hearts. Amen.
 
Let us pray:
​
Immanuel, God with us, this morning we turned off our alarm clocks. We poured cups of coffee or boiled water for tea. We slipped shoes onto our feet and combed back fly-away hairs. We bundled ourselves up to brave the cold.
 
We traveled to this room and settled into this space, all in hopes of drawing closer to you. So as we sit with each other in this sacred space, help us to feel your presence in our midst. We are reaching out our hands. We are reaching out our hearts. With love we pray, Amen. 
 
This sermon utilized the commentary by Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee  | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org. Used with permission.

​Young at Heart Message
 
One year ago, on the Third Sunday of Advent 2024, we sat in this circle, and we imagined we were sitting around a pool of water.
 
We each received a stone with a positive affirmation on it, and we tossed it into our imaginary pool and imagined the ripples reaching out to each of us as we did so.
 
This year, I had a hard time coming up with something for our circle service. I prayed about it, and I asked God.
 
I knew that the main sermon would be focused on Mary and her willingness to say “yes” through doubt, fear, shame, ridicule – you name it.
 
On the First Sunday of Advent, we took time to name our fears before God, write them down, and place them into this sacred box.
 
And I will admit that I was surprised at how well people participated. I haven’t read any of your fears, and I will not be reading them. But I did notice that many of you took a good amount of time and put some thought into your responses.
 
And while I don’t know what those fears are, I do know that people have fears. I have fears. And what that tells me is that we could all probably use some affirmation that leans toward hope.
 
So today, before we get to our main sermon, I want to take a moment to pass around this basket. In this basket are folded pieces of paper. Please take a piece of paper from the basket, but do not unfold it until it is your turn.
 
Once everyone has a piece of paper, I’ll explain what we will be doing.
 
Now that everyone has a piece of paper, I want to go around the circle and have us take turns reading our paper. Don’t open your folded piece of paper until it’s your turn.
 
When it’s your turn, please read what is on your piece of paper. When each person is done reading, I want everyone to respond by saying, as enthusiastically as possible, the word “yes.”
 
I’ll demonstrate with mine, and then we will go around the circle and repeat the process. Ready?
 
Does God call me… even when I feel like I don’t belong?
 
YES!
 
(We will go around the room, so each person is able to read theirs and receive a “YES!” from the group.)
 
How did that feel?
 
The Message
 
Thank you everyone for participating and offering one another some positive affirmations, and perhaps even some hope as we continue to move steadily toward Christmas.
 
In today’s scripture passage, we have another example of a prominent figure in the Gospels responding in fear to the appearance of an angel.
 
We just recently heard how Zechariah initially responded to the angel who appeared to him with fear. And today we hear that Mary responds in a similar way.
 
And honestly, I think that tracks. If I were approached by an angel, I would be terrified, too. Or, at the very least, I would be extremely skeptical, and I would be wondering who was pranking me.
 
But imagine Mary’s situation for a moment. She’s young, she’s not married, and she’s living in a world controlled by patriarchal systems.
 
She’s not just casually dating Joseph. They are likely pursuing some kind of arranged marriage. There’s no ancient equivalent of online dating, and she certainly doesn’t have a choice about who she marries.
 
So, when an angel appears and says “hi Mary. Would you like to have God’s child?” – of course she’s scared. She’s maybe even afraid for her life.
 
To say “yes” to this proposal is not an easy feat. Saying “yes” to God means she’s risking her body, her future marriage, and even her life.
 
Most of us would not be willing to take such a risk without, at the very least, asking some questions.
 
Luckily, Gabriel does not punish her for questioning. Instead, he reassures her with a promise that God will intervene, and she will be protected.
 
Mary is essentially wondering if God will be with her if she goes through this. And she believes that the answer is a resounding “yes.” This enables her to respond with her own “yes.”
 
Mary moves through her fear. She doesn’t set it aside, but she moves forward faithfully despite her fear.
 
Mary isn’t going into this endeavor without any fear. She’s uncertain and she can’t see exactly how this is going to play out just yet. But she musters up the courage to say “yes,” even in the unknown.
 
Just like Mary, no one can predict the future. Most of us live our lives taking only minor risks. And most of us don’t want to take too many risks on a future we cannot possibly predict.
 
And yet Mary shows us that her trust in God is stronger than her fear. Mary is living her life just trying to survive a world that is not easy for women. And yet, her call arrived amid her attempts to merely survive.
 
I wonder how often God calls us to be brave, but we are unwilling to take the risk? Or, how often we are presented with an opportunity to accept God’s call, and we bravely move forward despite our fears?
 
Can you think of times in your own life when you have had one or the other? I know I can.
 
Speaking from my own experience, I know that taking risks when it feels like God is calling me has paid off, not just for me but, I hope also for God.
 
I would not be here in Calgary if I had been too afraid to lean in when God was nudging me to make a big change in my life. And Mary would not be the mother of Jesus if she had not leaned in when God called her to take a radical risk.
 
On the first Sunday of Advent, we asked what fears we are holding onto. Now, I ask you this: what invitation or risk are you resisting because you feel inadequate or afraid?
 
What would it mean to say “yes,” not fearfully or timidly, but confidently, with purpose and courage, because you have faith in God and in yourself?
 
In this circle today, we have received a resounding “yes” from our community and from God.
 
May you leave here today with the echo of Mary’s words in your heart: “I am the Lord’s servant. Let it happen as you have said.”
 
Go in peace to hear and respond to what God is calling for you to do, who God is calling you to be, or what God might be calling you to say. Amen.
 
Pastoral Prayer
 
Let us pray: God of Hope, thank you for loving us and understanding when we are too afraid to do what you are asking of us. When we are afraid to take a risk or walk through a door you have opened for us, guide our feet and ease our worries. We know we may not move forward without fear but help us overcome our fear with courage and faithfully say “yes” to your call. In your holy and loving name, we pray. Amen.

The Message
 
The Gospel of Luke begins in a way that may seem minor to those of us reading it today.
 
But, beginning with, “When Herod was king of Judea…” is significant.
 
With these words, Luke’s Gospel tells us that Jesus was born into a world shaped by violence, occupation, and fear.
 
It would be like starting a story today by saying, “When Adolf Hitler was in power…”
 
Or, “When Joseph Stalin was the leader of the Soviet Union…”
 
Or, “When Benito Mussolini was the Prime Minister of Italy.”
 
Those of us who know anything about the dictatorships of these men know that we are talking about times of violence, of occupation, and of fear.
 
Beginning the Gospel story in this way tells us that Jesus was born in a time of survival under empire.
 
Herod, the Roman-appointed ruler of Judea,
governed with paranoia and cruelty.
 
His power, secured through imperial alliance, was maintained by coercion, surveillance, and brutality.
 
This was not a peaceful or fear-free world.
 
Luke situates the story of Jesus within these political realities.
 
Luke’s Gospel is not merely spiritual – it is also political.
 
We don’t like to hear these words said about the Gospels, but Luke’s Gospel was written as resistance in the face of empire.
 
With this context in mind, Luke introduces us to Zechariah and Elizabeth.
 
Zechariah and Elizabeth are childless. In this context, barrenness was often interpreted as divine judgement.
 
For Elizabeth especially, her childlessness brought not just personal grief but also public shame.
 
And yet, despite the pain and grief and shame, Zechariah and Elizabeth maintained their faith, even through their longing and their waiting.
 
While offering incense in the temple, Zechariah encounters a divine messenger. During this encounter, his response is not relief or joy—but fear.
 
Zechariah is not merely startled by this encounter.
 
It evokes deep inner shaking, a disruption of body and spirit.
 
Fear, in this context, is not failure. It is a natural human response to divine disruption.
 
But fear can become more than a reaction. It can take root and become a way of being.
 
If we aren’t careful, this kind of fear can shape our posture toward the world.
 
Many of us know this kind of fear.
 
This fear can become embedded in our bodies, relationships, and public discourse.
 
It becomes background noise so constant we forget it’s there.
 
Like Zechariah, we may grow so used to disappointment that when hope finally arrives, it startles us.
 
When God interrupts, we flinch.
 
This fear is real—but Zechariah and Elizabeth’s story reminds us that it is not the only truth.
 
God has been listening. God enters the silence, the ache, the barrenness—into the very place where fear has taken root.
 
And God’s response begins not with a miracle, but with recognition: your prayer has been heard.
 
These words are not just for Zechariah – these words are for us, too, this Advent season.
 
In a season of waiting, we are not asked to suppress fear but to face it. To ask:
 
How does fear live in me?
 
What voices has it amplified?
 
What longings has it silenced?
 
Fear can be a teacher. It tells us that something matters.
 
That something is at stake.
 
It is the voice of our vulnerability asking not to be erased, but acknowledged.
 
Advent gives us room to sit with fear—not to banish it, but to listen.
 
What are we afraid to hope for?
What have we stopped praying for?
Where has fear caused us to shrink back?
 
Zechariah’s fear doesn’t disqualify him. It marks the beginning of transformation.
 
“In the time of Herod...” the world was loud with empire’s threats, echoing with grief and longing.
 
And still—God broke in. In the time of fear, God heard a prayer. And responded with presence.
 
This Advent, perhaps the question is not how we get rid of our fear.
 
Perhaps the deeper invitation is this: Can we name our fear honestly—and still believe God is near?
 
So, with all of that in mind, we are going to take a few minutes now to name our fears.
 
This is not a public exercise. It is a deeply personal, private, and spiritual exercise.
 
This is between you and God.
 
You all should have at least one piece of paper.
 
There are markers or pens available – you may need to share.
 
I would like you all to take some time now to name your fears by writing them on your paper.
 
You might be thinking “I don’t have any fears.” This may be true, but remember that fear can sometimes manifest as longing.
 
For example, some people desperately long for a partner, but perhaps this translates to fear of loneliness.
 
Many of us long for more money, more resources, etc. Perhaps this longing is fear of future insecurity.
 
Many of us know exactly where our fears lie: we are afraid for the future, afraid for our children or grandchildren, or afraid of the world we are leaving for future generations.
 
There are big fears and small fears, but none are insignificant to God.
 
So, let’s take 5 minutes now to write our fears.
 
Once you are done, you can fold that paper up as small as you’d like. Then we will each put our paper in this box.
 
This box will be a sacred and confidential box. It will remain in my office during the week, and we will bring it out each Sunday so we can hold space for our fears. No one will see these fears.
 
As we move further into Advent, on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we will symbolically release those fears and then take time to name our hopes.
 
So, please take 5 minutes now to write your fears. I will ring the singing bowl when the time is up.
 
This should be a time of silence, prayer, and opening of heart to God.
 
*****
 
May your fears be held safely in the arms of our loving and gracious God. Amen.
 
 
Let us pray:
 
With-us God, in the time of Moses, you spoke through water in the desert and a pillar of smoke. In the time of the judges, you spoke through the prophets.
 
In the time of Herod, you spoke through angel choruses and unlikely miracles. In every time you have been speaking. So today, in our time, we ask that you would speak again. Break through the chatter and the distraction of our weary minds and speak to us once more. With hope we pray, amen.
 
 
 
This sermon utilized the commentary by Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee  | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org. Used with permission

The Message

On this Fourth Sunday of Advent, the words we’re focusing on as part of our Advent sermon series are “Hope Is Worth the Risk.”
 
This is a really tough one to preach on because it is incredibly vulnerable to hope.
 
Hope can feel like a tremendous risk, and the more hope we have in something, the greater the risk of disappointment.
 
Disappointment isn’t the only risk, either.
 
There is the risk of heartbreak – of giving yourself fully to someone or something and then having your heart shattered when you dared to hope.
 
Have you ever found yourself resisting hope because you fear that if you become emotionally invested, you might “jinx” the situation and then be disappointed when it doesn’t work out?
 
Of course! I think we have all been there.
 
And yet, if we aren’t willing to take the risk - to be vulnerable and allow ourselves to hope - we become cynical.
 
Cynicism feels like a safer, more straightforward path.
 
But cynicism doesn’t change our lives, nor does it change the world. Hope changes our lives, and hope changes the world.
 
I’ll give you an example.
 
When I finally started thinking about becoming a pastor, I was incredibly cynical.
 
I was cynical about the process, I was cynical about my abilities to do the job, and I was even cynical about my decision to even try to seek ordination.
 
It was so much easier for me to tell myself it was unlikely that I would make it through the process because it would hurt less if I failed.
 
I was putting a lot of time, money, and energy into walking this path, and I wasn’t even certain anything would come of it.
 
In fact, I wasn’t even overly optimistic about it, and I didn’t even dare to hope, at least initially.
 
But, my first meeting with the ordination committee went better than I could have expected, and some of those cynical thoughts I had started to ease a little.
 
And then my second meeting went fairly well too.
 
And then the third. And before I knew it, I was becoming more confident that they weren’t going to boot me out of the program.
 
And finally, I began to dare to hope that maybe all of this work I was doing and the risks I was taking would be worth it.
 
And of course, now I know it was.
 
But interestingly, it easier now to look back at that period in my life and recognize that what I thought was cynicism was actually hope.
 
If I had no hope and I hadn’t put that hope into action and kept moving along the path, I would not have made it this far.
 
This past week, I attended something called a “Clergy Cluster” with some pastoral colleagues from the Lutheran church.
 
We discussed the passage we read today – Mary’s song, also known as the Magnificat.
 
And we talked about the hope that Mary had, despite the incredible risk of opening her body and her heart to the idea of bearing the child of the Holy Spirit.
 
But, I’m not sure that Mary saw it as hope at the time.
 
I think Mary was scared. She was an unwed teenager, and I guarantee she, like me, thought more than once “why me, God? I am nothing special, and I am not sure I’m strong enough or brave enough to do what you’re asking of me.”
 
And yet, her actions, her willingness to accept her role despite her uncertainty, demonstrated radical hope and incredible vulnerability.
 
I can only imagine that resisting hope felt easier in the moment.
 
But by the time she sings her song, it is a beautiful song of hope and of courage.
 
Mary voices a hope that challenges the status quo and sings of a reality where justice and mercy reigns.
 
She sings of bringing down the mighty, exalting the humble, filling the hungry, and leaving the rich empty.
 
She and Elizabeth share their hopes and their fears with one another. They cry, they sing, they lament, and they hope beyond hope that everything will work out in the end.
 
Mary weaves through her song a vision of the world as God intends it, stitching together a pattern of justice and mercy.
 
Mary reminds us that hope is worth the risk. We can choose cynicism because it’s the easier path, or we can choose hope because it is the courageous path.
 
We can choose hope because, even though there is a possibility that we will be disappointed, we do not have a chance of changing ourselves, our lives, or our world without hope.
 
We must be willing to take the risk, like Mary and Joseph and Elizabeth, because our hope is a reflection of God’s plans for the world – plans for renewal and restoration in the face of despair and hopelessness.
 
Practicing hope is not easy, we know this.
 
There are people in the world who are suffering more than we could ever imagine. It feels disingenuous to tell those who are suffering to simply have hope.
 
We know it is not that easy.
 
But, what if we who are able practiced hope on behalf of those who are weary and worn down and becoming hopeless?
 
Could our expressions of hope become a life raft for others?
 
Could we actively work to set aside our cynicism, or at least become aware of it when it penetrates our consciousness? Could we instead make hope a meaningful spiritual practice?
 
Could we think of hope as a muscle – one that can be worked, flexed, strengthened, and stretched?
 
If we imagine hope as action, rather than mere optimism, it becomes easier to see how hope is worth the risk.
 
Doing the work and being vulnerable to hope allows us to change our lives, the lives of those around us, and perhaps even the world.
 
So, hold onto hope despite the risks.
 
The voice of cynicism can be loud, but cynicism also often lies to us.
 
But, hope is worth fighting for.
 
May the Spirit of God surround you this season so that you might trust like Joseph and sing like Mary.
 
The same hope they held is still alive today, transforming creation into God’s will for justice and peace.
 
As you prepare your heart for Christ’s arrival, may you make room for God’s presence, and may your actions reflect God’s hope for humanity. Amen.
 
Let us pray:
 
Holy God, The stories of Advent are stories many of us have heard before. We’ve arranged the nativity scenes. We’ve read the children’s books. We’ve seen the movies. We’ve sung the songs. But as we come to your scripture this morning, we pray: help us begin again. Clear the distractions from our minds. Center us in this space. Move through the protective barriers we surround ourselves with and speak to us here and now. We are listening. We are hopeful. Amen.
 
 Sermon References:
 Commentary by Kayla Craig | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.
 Prayer by Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.

​Young at Heart Message
 
Let’s channel our inner child for a moment and pretend that we are sitting around a large pool of water. The water is still – so still that it could be glass. Can you picture it?
 
Now, I have a bowl of rocks here. Each rock has a word on it. Words like “passion, trust, focus, hope, and happiness.”
 
These rocks are special rocks because, as they are tossed into the pool, the ripples they create will manifest the words on the rocks in each of us.
 
But, they do require some energy from the person who tosses them into the pool. As a rock is tossed into the pool, it drains a small amount of energy from the person tossing the rock.
 
So, for example, if I throw a rock that says “happiness” into the pool, happiness would ripple outward to each of you, but it would drain a small amount of my own energy at the same time.
 
Now, what do you suppose would happen if I dumped all of these rocks with their words on them into the pool at once?
 
Essentially, it would make one huge splash, there would be one huge ripple effect, and you would each get blasted with love, hope, focus, trust, happiness, and whatever else all at once. And, a lot of my own energy would drain in the process.
 
That one big ripple manifesting all of these words at once might be powerful initially, but because all of the rocks are going in at once, they are essentially creating one ripple. So the impact that each rock, and therefore each word, has on you might be quite small by the time it reaches you.
 
Not to mention, I will have just spent a lot of my own energy sending these words to manifest in you all at once.
 
But, what if, instead, I passed this bowl of rocks around to each of you, and each of us threw just one rock into the pool?
 
Each of us would spend much less energy throwing the rocks into the pool, and the ripple effect would last much longer. We would each receive the ripples from each individual rock, and collectively, we would all have more than enough energy left so that we wouldn’t feel totally drained.
 
Let’s try that now. I will pass the bowl around. I would like each of you to take one rock from the bowl and toss it into the imaginary pool. As you do, say the word on your rock and imagine the ripples expanding outward to everyone in the room.
 
How did it feel to be able to give people this positive energy?
 
How did it feel to receive so much positive energy?
 
The Message
 
Today we are continuing with the Advent theme, Words for the Beginning. The words we are focusing on for today’s message are “Do the work that is yours to do.”
 
This is such an important message, especially in a community full of people who love to give.
 
As givers, we tend to want to do everything we can to help people. That in itself is not a bad thing. But, if we aren’t careful, we may overdo it.
 
We could end up draining our own energy to the point where we are no longer able to give more of ourselves. Or, we can spread ourselves too thin.
 
For example, as a pastor I am often asked to participate in different ministries. I used to feel obligated to try to get involved with as many different organizations as I could.
 
However, in doing so, I was spreading myself too thin, and I wasn’t really able to make an impact in any of the organizations. I was “involved” insofar as I might receive their newsletter or attend a meeting or two, but I didn’t have time or energy to do much more than that.
 
Essentially, I was dropping all of my rocks into the pool at once, which minimized what each group or organization received from me, and completely drained my own energy or passion for ministry or service.
 
I began to realize that the best way for me to make any kind of impact was to focus on the things that gave me life and energized me, and let others do the things that gave them life and energized them.
 
In other words, I started to realize that I could only do the work that was mine to do. That meant doing the work that tapped into my own skills and abilities and that actually gave me energy rather than draining me.
 
It is not easy to discern what that work is all the time, because I am still often asked to do things that are outside of my skill set or my areas of passion or interest. And, it can create feelings of guilt to say no to something.
 
It is interesting, and of course intentional, that one of our scripture readings today was John the Baptizer scolding the crowd for wanting to be baptized without having given up their sins.
 
When the crowd asks what they should do about it, John tells them to share what they have with those in need. For example, if someone has two coats, he suggests giving one to someone in need. Likewise, if someone has more than enough food, he suggests sharing with someone who does not have enough food.
 
But then the passage says that when tax collectors came to be baptized, they ask what they can do. (Remember that tax collectors were considered sinners in the eyes of most people at that time because, even though they were doing their jobs, they also were often taking more money than people actually owed.) John tells them not to make people pay more than they owe. In other words, he suggests they ensure they are ethical tax collectors that do their jobs, but with kindness and compassion.
 
Likewise, when the soldiers asked what they could do, he tells them not to ask people to pay money to be left alone. He suggests they should be happy with the pay they receive, rather than greedily demanding more money from the people.
 
John was giving the people examples of the work that was specifically theirs to do. The tax collectors had the unique responsibility of collecting taxes ethically. That was their good work to do.
 
The crowd at large was encouraged to look at the things they had and decide if there was anything they had more than enough of that they could share.
 
John wasn’t asking everyone in the crowd to dump all of their rocks into the metaphorical pool at once. He was asking them to look at their own skills, abilities, and possessions and determine what it is that they could offer the world.
 
And this is the good news that we are invited to receive today: we are responsible for doing the good work that is ours to do. We are not responsible for doing everything.
 
We each have our own unique skills, talents, and resources. And we have a finite amount of energy. Our church collectively also has skills, talents, and resources that we can offer to the community.
 
But we are not meant to feel guilty for the work we cannot do. Rather, we are meant to be proud of the work that is ours to do, and we are invited to continue doing that work.
 
It is also important, I think, to remember that we should not feel guilty, as individuals or as a church, for the things we used to have time, energy, and resources for that we no longer do. We can be proud of the things we were once able to do, and we can be proud of the things we are still able to do.
 
And, we can continue doing the good work that is our to do in this time and place. We have, for example, recently learned that we have the resources, energy, and talents to support a refugee family’s endeavor to land safely and securely in Calgary.
 
We also know that we have the ability to successfully offer opportunities for socializing for seniors. These are two strong ministries – one that has been happening for a while and one that is a newer opportunity for us. But both are ministries that give us energy and life rather than drain it.
 
These are two examples of the good work that is ours to do.
 
We are uniquely situated to bring light into the world. May we find courage this season to do the good that is ours to do. It matters. May we see the ripples of our actions expand outward, touching lives and mending the fabric of our shared humanity. Amen.
 
Let us pray: Listening God, we know that you are constantly speaking to us. Through music, scripture, nature, and relationships, you make yourself known again and again. In gratitude, we long to return the favor. In gratitude, we long to meet you halfway. So in this moment, we are quieting the noise in our heads. We are closing our eyes. We are leaning in. We are listening. We are doing the good that is ours to do. Speak to us through the chaos. Speak to us as only you can. With hope in our hearts we listen, we pray. Amen.
 
Prayer by Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.

The Message

Did you know that in 2023, the US Surgeon General put out a lengthy and detailed report declaring loneliness an epidemic in the US?
 
And it’s not just a US problem, of course.
 
In 2018 (pre-COVID, by the way), the UK appointed its first “Minister for Loneliness.” Japan followed suit in 2021.
 
Australia and New Zealand both have national loneliness reduction strategies, and China has gone so far as to pass a law stating that adult children must visit their parents regularly.
 
And, of course, Canada is not immune to the issue – people here struggle with common problems that are being faced in every first-world nation.
 
Now, we could discuss the causes of this “epidemic,” but we would probably be here all day if we did that.
 
I do think, however, that it is worth mentioning some of the important information from the US Surgeon General’s report:
- 1 in 2 adults reported experiencing loneliness (even before the COVID pandemic)
- Loneliness is associated with greater risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, stroke, depression, anxiety, and premature death
- The consequences of loneliness impact our schools, workplaces, and civic organizations
 
One of the most important things the Surgeon General says in his report is, “We are called to build a movement to mend the social fabric of our nation.”
 
Of course, he’s referring to the US specifically, but this sounds like a profound call to our churches to help build a movement to mend the social fabric of our communities.
 
Interestingly, I wonder how much of an impact the “Minister for Loneliness,” or the loneliness reduction strategies have had in other countries?
 
The reason I wonder is because it seems unlikely that any kind of government program to counteract loneliness could be truly effective.
 
For starters, people have to want to address their own loneliness. But secondly, people have to want to address loneliness for others, as well.
 
Certainly, we feel a sense of empathy for those who feel loneliness.
 
But I wonder how many people actually articulate to others that they feel lonely?
 
How many people even recognize loneliness in themselves?
 
Loneliness can be hard to address because it falls on a spectrum.
 
We can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.
 
We can be in a relationship with another person and feel lonely if our needs for connection aren’t being met.
 
Likewise, some of us can be perfectly content to spend a lot of time alone, and yet still be socially isolated.
 
Additionally, social media users can have hundreds or even thousands of “friends” or “followers,” and still feel lonely when they see those “friends” sharing the incredible things happening in their lives.
 
Sometimes, our life circumstances can create feelings of loneliness.
 
Moving away from friends and family can be socially isolating, especially when it has become harder and harder for adults to make friends.
 
Similarly, having a friend or family member that you are close to move away can create feelings of loneliness for people who depended on their presence back home.
 
It is truly no wonder that 1 in 2 adults struggles with feelings of loneliness.
 
Loneliness is very much a modern phenomenon.
 
A lot of this is a function of how we live today, and the push toward independence instead of communal living.
 
We are far more individualistic today.
 
We have also seen a significant decline in the number of people who participate in religious communities or faith communities, and we have seen a rise in online social media platforms where people are simultaneously connected to more people electronically but disconnected from people in the real world.
 
So, where does this leave us? It all sounds quite hopeless.
 
If lawmakers and government officials can’t solve the problem, how do we even begin to address it?
 
Well, I think the Surgeon General said it best when he said “we are called to build a movement to mend the social fabric” of our communities and, by extension, of the world.
 
No one person is going to be able to step in and wave a magic wand to fix loneliness.
 
Rather, this needs to be addressed on the local and on the individual level.
 
We need to be practicing kindness and compassion as much as possible.
 
I also think we probably need to be committing to stepping away from social media and our cell phones more often and interacting with real people instead.
 
However, to do that, we need to actively choose to involve ourselves in some kind of community.
 
I worry about our younger generations in this sense, including my own.
 
How do we create a movement, especially with younger generations, when they have known nothing but social media as a primary way of connecting with people?
 
I know that many people worry about how involved in sports and other recreational activities our young people are, but I see this as a positive for them because at least they are socializing and connecting with people in real life.
 
The people I worry about most right now is mid-life adults.
 
Adults my own age, who may or may not have children and families, but who often work from home alone all day and struggle to get involved in things outside of work.
 
I can attest to the difficulty of finding and maintaining friendships as an adult. Developing new friendships is especially difficult as we get older, and because our lives are busy, it can also be difficult to find the energy to involve ourselves in community.
 
What can we do to help and support others?
 
Like Ruth, we need to choose kindness, and we might need to sacrifice a bit for others.
 
Ruth chooses to stay with her mother-in-law, Naomi, rather than seek to find another husband.
 
She maintains the important connection with Naomi in a world where the social norm would have been for her to move on to another husband and forget about Naomi completely.
 
But doing that would have left both women lonely and isolated.
 
Instead, Ruth chooses kindness. Together, they form a new family and a new covenant with one another.
 
This new family they formed was built not on blood, but on kinship. 
 
Ruth dared to believe that her life was better intertwined with Naomi’s.
 
Neither of them were meant to journey alone, and Ruth believed that wholeheartedly.
 
When loneliness begins to creep in on us, it can cause us to start to think that we are the only person carrying the weight of loneliness.
 
Feeling alone in the struggle causes a cascade of other thoughts of inadequacy, insecurity, and insignificance.
 
The good news is that the only way for us to really address this problem is to cultivate compassionate community.
 
The reason this is good news is because we already do this quite well here at this church.
 
And our call as individuals the moment we step out of this building is to continue cultivating compassionate community.
 
That said, the statistics would seem to indicate that if 1 in 2 adults struggle with loneliness, it could be the case that about half of us in this room feel a sense of loneliness despite our connection to this community of faith.
 
Those feelings of loneliness can be especially strong this time of year, when many people struggle with loneliness or grief.
 
But we cannot go alone, nor were we meant to.
 
If you are one who is finding yourself dealing with feelings of loneliness, I encourage you to connect with someone you trust and share those feelings.
 
It can be someone in this community, or it can be another trusted person. It will mean being vulnerable, which isn’t easy.
 
But don’t let those feelings consume you.
 
We can each commit to kindness and compassion, to helping the stranger, or to extending an invitation.
 
But we also need to commit ourselves to sharing in our grief and loneliness because we are not meant to walk this path alone.
 
There are people in this community who would be happy to walk with you, talk with you, or listen as you share.
 
I would encourage you to reach out to someone if you are able.
 
It can be incredibly hard to admit to feeling lonely, but if we can’t admit it to ourselves and we don’t feel like we can share it with others, then we will perpetuate our own cycle of loneliness.
 
And this is where the call to build a movement comes into play.
 
Movements begin with individuals and small groups who are committed to speaking the truth in a kind and compassionate way.
 
Our movement may begin within the walls of this church but could very quickly expand into our own communities.
 
If we are called to create a movement to begin mending the social fabric of our communities, then let it begin with each of us.
 
Let us work together to break the cycles of loneliness. Let us walk with one another and remind each other often that “we cannot go alone, nor were we meant to go alone.”
 
Beloved, you are not alone on this winding journey.
 
May the companionship of fellow sojourners reflect the love of the One who – in becoming flesh – chose to journey alongside us.
 
May the quilt of life warm you from the chill of isolation, and may the Spirit move you to compassion as you cultivate community, even in times of uncertainty. Amen.
​
Let us pray: Holy God, The words of this world whip around us like a mighty wind. We are caught up in news reports, in text messages, in emails and notifications. We are drowning in updates from the media, caught off guard by the constant hum of it all. But here on this bright morning we remember: you too are speaking. Still the voices around us. Calm our minds and center our hearts so that we can hear your words above the wind. We are leaning closer. We are at the edge of our chairs. We are beginning again. Speak to us, as only you can. Amen.
 
“Prayer by Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.”

Sermon References: Commentary by Kayla Craig | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.
C2C Journal: Ideas that Lead | https://c2cjournal.ca/2023/01/a-kingdom-of-one-the-great-loneliness-pandemic-and-what-not-to-do-about-it/
Our Epidemic of Loneliness and Isolation; 2023 US Surgeon General’s Advisory on the Healing Effects of Social Connection and Community

​Young at Heart Message
 
Advent is a season of endings and beginnings.
 
As the calendar year comes to a close, a new church year begins.
 
Christ’s birth ushers us into new ways of living and loving; and yet, the world as we know it spins madly on.
 
This year’s Advent theme is “Words for the Beginning.”
 
Once again, we will be using A Sanctified Art’s Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany materials.
 
This year, we will explore an Advent series filled with the words we need to hear over and over again as we begin a new year.
 
Today’s words that I think we all need to hear often, throughout our lives, are “You are a blessing.”
 
I don’t know about you, but growing up, the theology I was raised on took a bit more negative outlook.
 
Instead of feeling like a blessing, I often felt like a burden.
 
Being taught at an early age that we are all sinners, or that bad things happen to us because we weren’t faithful enough or we did something wrong to deserve punishment did not exactly leave me believing I was a blessing on this world.
 
If anything, I internalized the idea that I should take up as little space as possible in this world – something that I have spent years trying to unlearn.
 
It may become obvious very quickly that the imagery used in this year’s Advent theme is that of quilting.
 
I initially wondered why they were using quilting as part of the theme this year, but I realized that it’s because quilts are brilliant metaphors for life.
 
This concept of having things that we were taught as young people that we need to unlearn is not unique. Most of us have things we learned as children or young adults that we must now unlearn as we journey through life.
 
Now, I’m not an expert on quilting, but if there are quilters in the room, how easy is it to unstitch something that has already been stitched into a quilt?
 
My understanding is that it’s doable, but rather inconvenient and difficult, and sometimes it is obvious that stitches have been removed and re-stitched.
 
In other words, we may be able to unstitch and re-stitch sections of our quilt (or unlearn and relearn things in our lives), but we may not be able to completely hide the evidence of either. 
 
I asked some of the members of our congregation who are quilters if they would be willing to send me some pictures of some of the quilts they have created in their lives.
 
Merlyn sent her photos with a note saying, “don’t look too closely, these aren’t perfectly sewn, but hopefully they’re at least warm.”
 
What a perfect metaphor for our lives! Don’t look too closely, because I’m not perfect, but hopefully I have a few good qualities!

It may be easy to look at these quilts and see the finished product, overlooking the hard work and the individual pieces that went into making them.
 
But, what would happen if we took out one section of these quilts?
 
The quilts would be incomplete!
 
On their own, each individual piece of fabric in these quilts may seem insignificant, but the quilt would not be the same without any one of those pieces.
 
And the same is true for us in life.
 
Our lives would not be the same without the people, words, and messages that have made us who we are – good, bad, or otherwise.
 
Remove a single piece of the quilt, and it is not the same piece of art. Similarly, remove a piece of our past, and we are not the same self.
 
This year’s Advent theme begins with blessedness because it is Mary’s beginning, and it is our beginning as well.
 
This statement, “You are a blessing,” is a radical statement considering that too many people are taught – whether implicitly or explicitly (through cultural norms and expectations, media, role models, their parents, or their church leaders) – that they are a burden.
 
The message that we are each a blessing can be easily muted, trivialized, or taken away from us.
 
There are many forces in this world that might make us believe that we are not a blessing.
 
When we stop believing that we are a blessing to God, we may stop believing it about others as well.
 
We may begin to think that we are unimportant to God – unimportant in the quilt of our own lives.
 
However, when we are rooted in our blessedness, we can treat every created being as a blessing as well.
 
We can recognize our own importance to God, to creation, and to the people around us.
 
The Message

This is where we meet Mary in today’s scripture passage.
 
She has forgotten, or perhaps she doesn’t truly believe, what the Book of Isaiah says, that “I have called you by name. To me, you are very dear, and I love you.”
 
Mary is an ordinary girl from Nazareth. She did not have power or prestige. She did not believe she had a significant role to play in the world.
 
And yet, she was blanketed in belovedness nonetheless.
 
Advent welcomes us to reflect on how we are invited into God’s redemptive narrative.
 
Like Mary, we may feel ordinary or small, but we too have the potential to carry God’s love into a weary world.
 
In our Gospel reading today, the story of Mary and the angel Gabriel demonstrates how God might choose someone the world might overlook to be part of something beautiful.
 
Gabriel’s message to Mary – “You are truly blessed! The Lord is with you” – is a declaration of Mary’s essential place in the divine quilt.
 
Mary’s response to Gabriel – “How can this be?” – is profoundly human. She doesn’t necessarily believe that she is an important piece of the quilt.
 
And yet, Gabriel reassures her by saying “Do not be afraid.” It is a clear reminder that even when we worry or wonder if we matter in the vast expanse of the universe, God knows our heart, acknowledges our fear, and moves toward us.
 
The passage from Isaiah provides additional comfort, promising that we are never alone, even in the darkest moments when it feels like we are lost.
 
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”
 
In a world often consumed by pain, suffering, and injustice, it is a gift to remember that we are formed and made by a God who loves us and doesn’t leave us.
 
You are a blessing because the One from whom all blessings flow sees you, knows you, and calls you by name.
 
By embracing our inherent blessedness as a starting point, we open our hearts to recognize and affirm the blessedness in others, which transforms our interactions and communities.
 
God's perfect love invites us to live out our belovedness by entering into the good work of the quilt God’s hand began sewing many years ago.
 
May you remember that you are a blessing – known, chosen, and called for a purpose.
 
May you boldly live into this truth, recognizing and cherishing your inherent worth so that you may honor God’s image in others.
 
Trust in your belovedness as you enter the redemptive work God has invited you into this Advent season. Amen.
 
Affirming God, How often do you speak to us, and how often do we miss it? How often do you whisper blessings over us that we refuse to hear? Open our hearts. Create space in us to not only hear these words, but to believe the good news tucked between them. We are hungry for your wisdom, so help us hear you. With hope and curiosity, we listen. With hope and curiosity, we dare to begin again. Amen.
 
“Prayer by Rev. Sarah (Are) Speed | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.”
 
Sermon References: Commentary by Kayla Craig | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org.