Publishing the Sermon

Just Be God’s: A Call to Continuing Conversion is a series of blog posts. You might want to start reading it from the beginning: Here.

November 19

D to Paige

Paige, what a delight it was to receive Bob’s email about the sermon you recently preached at the Brookline church. It would have been wonderful to have been there to hear you preach. Maybe there will come a time that it will be possible. I would love to hear from you to know what you are doing and what your plans are. We have a Women in Ministry Network and I would love to include you. In fact, if you are on Facebook I can add you to our conversation page. That is, if I can figure out how to do it. So if you befriend me I can work on making that connection. However, that may not be your interest.

What I would really like is a copy of your sermon. A few years ago Kathy P., who was the first women to preach at the Brookline church, advised me to save all my sermons. She explained that in all her research about women who were preachers in the early years of the Restoration Movement she had not found any of their sermons preserved. So, I took her advice and asked her to send me a copy of her first sermon, which was preached around 1987. That began a project that is really beginning to take shape. I have been collecting the sermons of women in the Church of Christ for several years now and have about 22 women who sent me sermons or promises of sermons… I would love to include your sermon in the collection. Many of the sermons are the first and/or the only sermon a particular woman has preached. Some were preached in university settings or in hospital chapels. But that is part of our story. And I am hoping to not only create a historical document but record the story of women in ministry in this generation.

Here is what I would like from you: 1. give your sermon a title and put your name on it. (You would be surprised how many did not do this and it is hard keeping track of them once I save them to my file.) 2. provide the date and the place where you preached it. 3. Write a preface to the sermon. I would like a paragraph that tells something of your story. How you came to preach this sermon. Was it your first? If not, where else have you preached and is this the first you preached in a Church of Christ worship service? What was the experience like for you. Share anything you would like to about your journey to this moment. 4. The sermon ­­ 5. A bio: in your bio include your education and where you are at the present time. Include something of your family background, etc. Anything you want to add. It should be a short paragraph.

If you do all of the above, you will be way ahead of the game. In the beginning I didn’t give any guidelines or requirements and I have had a lot of editing to do. Keep your format simple and I will do the rest.

I hope you will accept this assignment. Let me know as soon as possible if you intend to submit your sermon. I am busy editing right now so I can wait until February 1 for your sermon. If you would like a sample I can send you someone’s sermon to give you an idea of the preface as well as the sermon. However, I want it to be expressive of you so whatever you send me will be great.

I look forward to hearing from you soon. Blessings, D

November 23

Paige to D

Hello D,

It’s wonderful to hear from you! This whole semester has been unexpectedly wild for me. While I’ve been in Boston a while (5 years), I haven’t been that amazing of a church of Christ goer. But as soon as I committed to attending this year (in addition to Catholic Mass), and let someone know I have a Master’s in Pastoral Ministry from Boston College, I was invited to preach. Like I said, it is wild. When Bob said you’d be emailing me, I was pretty taken aback. It’s been a long time since my days at Pepperdine, but my experience there, seeing women in the church of Christ in ministry, is really what planted my desire to minister (formally or informally and pretty much anywhere).

I’m delighted that you want my sermon and may include it in your book! I can definitely get you my sermon before Feb 1st, and I may even have preached again by the time it comes around. Clint, who puts the preaching circuit together at Brookline, is including me in the new year. It should be fun. Brookline is a fantastic church, and I like to call it “The Best Church of Christ in the World.”

A little about what’s going on with me before sending the sermon. Presently, I’m in a little bit of a transitional time of life. I work in Tech Support at Boston College (the job that got me through my two Master’s there). I’ve done that for about 2 years now, and my boyfriend just moved to Florida. Come summer, I’ll be finishing up in Boston, walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain, and moving down to Florida with possibly no money or job. I’m very excited! I’m actually heading down to Florida today to have Thanksgiving with his family this week. It should be very nice. And warm. New England has been wonderful, but it’s time to go.

I’d love to be included in the Facebook group! Say hello and send my love to Zach and the fam. I certainly miss Malibu. I will send you my sermon all formatted before Christmas. If you need any help editing, just let me know. I’d love to help in whatever way I can.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving! Paige

D to Paige

Paige, it is great to hear from you. I loved hearing about what you are and have been doing and to hear about your boyfriend. Is his university a Catholic university? If you do, in fact, move to Florida you may have to increase your attendance at the Catholic church. I don’t know of any Churches of Christ that are gender inclusive. However, I might be surprised, although there is quite a groundswell of churches that are making the transition to gender inclusion. It is very encouraging. I know how you feel about the Brookline church. It was a leader among churches of Christ in becoming inclusive and they have nurtured and encouraged many women and men through the years.

Your summer plans sound wonderful. I have always been intrigued by the Camino de Santiago, especially after watching the movie that was made by Emelio Estivez (sp?) and his father, Martin Sheen. I know it will be a memorable experience for you. Are you going alone?

I will pass your greeting on to Zach and Haley. I remember so well when Zach brought you to his birthday party at Ken and Libby’s house and we played cards. I was so impressed by your beautiful, thick red hair. And with you, of course.

I look forward to receiving and reading your sermon. Thank you for responding so quickly. I will keep in touch.

D

December 1

Paige to D

Hello D!

I hope you had a nice Thanksgiving. I spent mine eating (of course) and fishing in Florida. It is indeed a Catholic University, Benedictine by tradition. Steve, my boyfriend, is Catholic, studies and writes mostly on systematic theology, but was hired to teach ethics. I visited there this past week, and the campus was pretty nice (it’s tough always comparing to Pepperdine). It’s in a nice hilly area (for Florida) overlooking a big lake. I also do not know any gender inclusive Churches of Christ in Florida, there are A LOT of CoCs there, especially around Tampa. My mom, grandparents, and a couple of my cousins attended Florida College in Tampa which isn’t too far from St. Leo, but is, I believe, quite far from gender inclusion. Church of Christ history in Florida is fascinating.

My best friend and boyfriend are planning on walking the Camino next summer with me! I’ve booked my tickets with Steve for June 12, and she’s going to try and meet us at the starting point at the same time.

Ha. Zach’s birthday party! That is a nice memory. I think we taught Libby how to play poker for the first time in her life.

I will have the sermon to you before Dec 18th! Could you send me a sample so I can match the format exactly? I don’t want to create any unnecessary work for you.

Happy Advent! Paige

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I Miss Certitude

Just Be God’s: A Call to Continuing Conversion is a series of blog posts. You might want to start reading it from the beginning: Here.

October 16

Yesterday was RCIA, and the day before that, was church.

At CoC, I was overly complimented for my sermon, and I awkwardly didn’t know what to say. It made me wonder if I would make a good “Pastor.” It’s something that I’m out of practice at, but I think I would like. But then again, I wonder about being a teacher. I guess they go hand in hand. I was a bit caught off guard. I didn’t know what to do/say, so I just said, “Thank you.” For the moment, I’m not called to pastor. I’m just doing my thing: learn, grow, share.

Also, Bob said he’s giving my email and number to D’Esta (Pepperdine chaplain emeritus) because she is writing a book of CoC women sermons right now. I’m not intimidated at all…

Then in RCIA it was nice to sit and listen to people talk a little bit about their draw to Jesus. There were some questions that I hadn’t thought about for a while, like, what’s my favorite Jesus story? How do I see Jesus right now? What is it that I want from Jesus? Or even, Where did I see God this week?

I haven’t taken time to meditate on these things for a while or read the Bible in a big chunk. What struck me the most was the question, “What do I want?”

And this is where I pause, because, I don’t know. My first thought in RCIA class was “A job!” i.e., direction, vocation, calling, and more certitude. Certitude for me is really really really knowing, and knowing specifics, believing specifics. No doubt.

It’s strange the way once certitude leaves, it doesn’t really come back. I suppose you could be certain of something else? I don’t know what I want. And I get distracted easily from answering the question.

Paid to Preach

Just Be God’s: A Call to Continuing Conversion is a series of blog posts. You might want to start reading it from the beginning: Here.

October 5

$200 for preaching?! Yep. That happened. I received a check in the mail from someone I don’t know, but it’s from the “Brookline church of Christ” checkbook.

I had no idea this was a paid gig. Several people asked me if I was getting paid, and I was like, “No. You don’t get paid to preach. You’re just like serving, and the church is poor.” Apparently not. Now, I know why people do this, and I know why one of the regular preacher’s wives was looking at me all sideways asking, “So, you’re preaching on Sunday…”

I received a very nice letter, along with my check:

Hi Paige,

I meant to give this to you at church Sunday, but I didn’t catch you before you left… so here it is. Thanks for preaching, I really enjoyed your sermon.

Dave

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t know, because I don’t know if I would have preached if I knew I got paid, and I don’t know if I would have said I’d do it again if I knew I got paid.

I mean, I know everyone who invited me to preach knows that money is involved, and no one mentioned it?! Why does money make it more intimidating? Maybe I should have done their usual post-holily conversation—at least that way they get their money’s worth.

I don’t know why it feels so weird. But I guess it makes sense. It’s probably more economical to simply pay someone to preach, than to have a full time preacher.

When I decided I would be okay preaching, I guess it was sort of an intrinsic decision (besides that whole power trip thing). Obviously, there is also extrinsic motivation (besides money) like breaking church of Christ rules, getting attention and hopefully praise for whatever I preach, being one of those girls that preach, being able to use my degree… There was still a lot of risk involved, it was very personal. I want to serve, and apparently they need some women to say “Yes” to preaching (and I don’t know why they don’t). Though Brookline does expect a certain caliber, they want people trained in theology, and many are not theologically trained in the churches of Christ. I’m glad I could help, and I said I would help again.

My Hobby is Jesus…

Just Be God’s: A Call to Continuing Conversion is a series of blog posts. You might want to start reading it from the beginning: Here.

October 2

I was hanging out with my friend last night, and I was thinking about how my hobby right now, is basically, Jesus. I go to church about five times a week, RCIA, and then whatever else I can squeeze in. Then I spend time writing and reading about it.

My hobby, is Jesus. Sounds so wrong.

It’s not easy. Great at first, but right now, I’m definitely in that phase of monotony. I seem to have forgotten what the point of me doing all this was. I went to RCIA last night, and so far so good, but I don’t know. Sometimes I just don’t feel it. Actually, that’s the best way to put how I feel. I just don’t feel it anymore. Or it feels different. Not bad, just nagging and annoying, and weird.

My friend asked me if I’m “allowed” to preach at one church and go to RCIA at another. I’ve thought a lot about it, and I think yes? What do you think?

As far as I know, in the Catholic church there is no rule against preaching for whoever. Technically, only priests are supposed to preach in the Mass, but they can also kind do whatever they want during the homily (like let someone else “reflect” on the the readings). And I have certainly witnessed some risqué things during Mass homilies.

As for the Brookline Church of Christ, they love to have more ecumenical/integrative engagement. So, I’m okay there.

However, my difficulties lie in how much I disclose. This whole endeavor is mostly a secret. On some level, I’ve convinced myself that the information is irrelevant to each group. Obviously, I wouldn’t lie if someone asked me if I preached last Sunday, but how is that going to come up in RCIA conversation unless I bring it up?

I’ve thought so far ahead about Easter, if I decide to be confirmed Catholic, what do I tell Brookline? Do I tell them anything? I know I would still be welcome, I could still preach, everything would be the same…

I must have some sort of internalized residual stigma, “Why?! On earth!? Would you be confirmed Catholic if you already consider yourself a ‘saved’ Protestant Christian?!”

Covering my basis, I guess. I joke.

I ask myself the same things…

Is it because I think the Catholics have something secret or more than everybody else? No.

Is it because the Catholics are right and everyone else is wrong? No.

Is it because I agree completely with everything the Catholic church teaches? Definitely no.

Is it because I feel lost and alone in my Protestant faith, and don’t know what to do with it? Maybe a little, but mostly no.

Maybe a little on that last one. It’s like, I dove into theology school with nowhere to go, and really no plans to go anywhere with it. As a Church-of-Christer, women can’t do anything, and they shouldn’t bother learning. I look at what the Catholic church does, and the people that are in it, and I think I fit in, I think I can do something there. I think there is space for me there.

And I want to believe that as I come into that space, in the Catholic church, there will also be openings in other Christian communities… That really doesn’t make any sense. It makes more sense that once you go through the Catholic door that all the Protestant doors close and vise versa… I don’t know why I think this.

Reactions to My Sermon

Just Be God’s: A Call to Continuing Conversion is a series of blog posts. You might want to start reading it from the beginning: Here.

October 1

I received a text last night from Clint, the CoC preaching coordinator, that said, “Great job! Everyone was touched by your sermon! You will have to preach again!”

I don’t want to put myself down, but I have serious doubts about his sincerity. They could be saying:

“Great job!” (For your first time.)

“Everyone was touched!” (Because you gushed all over us about how great we are.)

“Preach again!” (Because I’m an overwhelmed married first year PhD student who needs as much help as I can get.)

I might be reading into it too much. Yeah, probably.

One Day Preacher, The Next, RCIA

Just Be God’s: A Call to Continuing Conversion is a series of blog posts. You might want to start reading it from the beginning: Here.

September 30

One day I preach, the next I go to RCIA.

This is weird. How do I feel?

I enjoyed preaching, I think, but it’s not about me, and I don’t exactly know what people thought. It’s weird the way you put the words out there into space with little to no feedback. I mean, I got feedback from my friends, which is very good.

 

It was weird feeling like you need to talk to everyone and stay late, but I snuck out with Doug and had chicken and waffles and a Bloody Mary—AWESOME. Laid around, went to Mass at 5:30, hung out at Young Adult get to know you time, and then watched Breaking Bad. Going to Mass, it is totally refreshing to go to church somewhere else on a day that you preached.

I’m just not sure what to say about the whole experience because I’m used to bouncing my feelings off other people’s feelings. I’m not sure, but I think that Brookline CoC would totally have me again/put me on the once a month schedule, and I totally would. But I would honestly say, “If I’m no good, don’t let me do it again.”

My best friend and boyfriend thought it was good, but they’re biased.

First Sermon: Every Heart a Chasm

Just Be God’s: A Call to Continuing Conversion is a series of blog posts. You might want to start reading it from the beginning: Here.

Every Heart A Chasm

This sermon was preached at the Brookline Church of Christ, in Brookline, Massachusetts, September 29, 2013.

Paige Cargioli

Preface to the Sermon

When I was growing up, preaching wasn’t exactly a vocational option, but it was something I always wanted to do. I wrote in my notes at church on August 11, “Maybe they’ll let me preach here someday.” Six weeks later, I was at the pulpit. This being the first time I preached, I wrote a preface for them that sums up my feelings. “There are two things I have to say. First, it’s important to let you know I believe this is the best Church of Christ in the world! I wish there were more people, barring today, to hear the great preaching here. Secondly, I don’t know if you realize how crazy this is to me, but probably not, because Brookline has had women preaching since before I was born. Thank you for this opportunity.

In preparation, I listened to D’Esta Love’s sermon she preached at a Sunday morning service at a Church of Christ. Other than a sermon she preached at Brookline with her husband, Stuart, it was the first sermon she had preached alone at a Church of Christ service. She was seventy-years-old! In light of D’Esta’s legacy, I simply want to acknowledge her and all women in the Church of Christ, particularly those in churches where there is gender inequality or discrimination. Today, I want to stand in solidarity with those women.”

Reading the Text: Luke 16:19-31 (New American Bible Revised Edition)

There was a rich man who dressed in purple garments and fine linen and dined sumptuously each day. And lying at his door was a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who would gladly have eaten his fill of the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs even used to come and lick his sores. When the poor man died, he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried, and from the netherworld, where he was in torment, he raised his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he cried out, “Father Abraham, have pity on me. Send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am suffering torment in these flames.”

Abraham replied, “My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours.”

He said, “Then I beg you, father, send him to my father’s house, for I have five brothers, so that he may warn them, lest they too come to this place of torment.” But Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.” He said, “Oh no, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.”

Then Abraham said, “If they will not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.”

The Sermon: Every Heart A Chasm

When I was growing up I recognized that this was one of those “heaven and hell” passages. Just this week, I was going over this text with a small group, and someone recognized it as such. The good guys go to heaven; the bad guys go to hell.

While it’s arguable, I look at this passage and see it as a type of parable, so there really isn’t a clear lesson. And while this one isn’t as confusing as the lectionary gospel text for last week (Luke 16:1-13: The Dishonest Steward), this text can be pretty fuzzy.

At the same time, on the most primary level this is definitely a jab at the Pharisees (and really anyone) and their greed. The moral of the story is: Don’t be greedy. Just because things are good now, it doesn’t mean they always will be. But even the pagans know that.

Looking more closely at the passage, it doesn’t say the rich man did bad things, and the poor man did good things. It just says that the rich man was rich, Lazarus was poor, they both died, and they went somewhere else where their places were reversed. Not that I want to make Lazarus out to be the bad guy in the afterlife, but it was kind of similar. Let me explain.

Abraham says to the rich man, “Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side to yours or from your side to ours” (Luke 16:26).

In the first half of the story Lazarus and the rich man are close in distance, but you could say there was a chasm between them. What could the rich man do to cross over this economical or cultural gap to really put them on the same level? They didn’t know each other. They didn’t talk. They just were. And like Amos prophesies in the first reading for today (Amos 6:1-7), the rich man was simply enjoying his riches, enjoying the blessings he had been given in life, whilst consciously or unconsciously ignoring the suffering before him.

The picture is very similar after they die! There is a great chasm, but not so great that the rich man can’t have a pretty strange and lengthy conversation with Abraham, whilst dying for a little help! In their conversation across the chasm, the rich man pleads with Abraham so he can warn his brothers, but Abraham still says, “Nope. They won’t believe it.”

I wonder what the rich man would say to his brothers, because there are no instructions here. Abraham doesn’t tell the rich man what he should have done. It doesn’t say what the rich man did wrong, or what he should do to fix it. But really? They won’t believe it if someone is raised from the dead? This is definitely a foreshadowing of Jesus’ resurrection. We’ve all known people so stubborn and so caught up in their ways, not even someone rising from the dead would make them change their minds. I know such people.

I’m not bragging, but my grandpa was a preacher in the Church of Christ. His son, my uncle, is also a preacher in the Church of Christ. There are more on my mom’s side of the family, but when I was a teenager my uncle stopped talking to my family because we started attending the wrong type of Church of Christ.

I imagine there are some here who have, to some extent, experienced something similar: a fear-driven community struggling to grasp the grace and compassion that the gospel story tells. I am striving to be a witness to Christ’s unconditional love, swimming in the chasm, full of discomfort and frustration. In painful moments such as this, while it’s difficult to see, we share a desire for healing as well as a certain solidarity with Christ and God in their frustration, their righteous anger.

My uncle probably wouldn’t be thrilled at my preaching this morning, and I don’t know if even someone rising from the dead would make him change his mind, or at the very least allow some space for grace and mercy. There is a great chasm between my family and my uncle.

Permit me another example. For my entire life my dad didn’t believe, while my family and his were believers. In reference to my dad, I was the rich man. I expected him to do something, to take care of himself spiritually. Also, I thought I could do something—pray or argue instead of simply being a witness, being uncomfortable, being grateful for him, and loving him. There was a great chasm between us.

I’m sure we could all think of endless examples of broken relationships, chasms that have been healed—or have not. These chasms are where we have not allowed love, forgiveness, grace, and mercy to enter and heal. These chasms, whether we are rich or poor, are created by pride and also by greed. Pride makes us think of others as somehow above or below us, and we expect something from them.

Now, I haven’t been entirely fair to this passage, because I’m not taking all of Luke into context. In Luke, the poor, the last, the lost, the broken, and the “other” always appear to come out on top. Even more so, they are always the conduits of Christ. Jesus is always working in and through them.

And in Luke, the rich are out of luck. They never give enough, and they never seem to care enough, and it’s usually too late once they do. Yet, we have an entire gospel dedicated to this binary of rich and poor—God lifting up the poor and reaching out to the rich.

Conceivably, we are the rich. If you are here, in this church, in Boston, we are the rich spiritually, economically, and intellectually. And it may make us feel like there is something we can do because of our status. There are all these things we need to do, in order to be more like Christ or become closer to God.

We may then come to the conclusion that our job, as the rich, is to take care of the poor, i.e., “Don’t be greedy,” and in some ways this is true. Perhaps we say to ourselves, “I, oh so high, rich, mighty, and spiritually deep and pious, have to somehow help you—the lowly, the lost, the poor.” But, I really have to be careful with that sort of language—the language of them and us.

I don’t think that was the point Jesus was trying to make. Not that I’m trying to shirk our responsibilities to take care of one another. It’s like the example with my uncle and my dad. We can all be the rich, and we can all be the poor. We ought to give help, and we need help. We are not giving to the poor out of our riches, but we give out of our poorness. We serve the poor out of our poorness, our realness, our vulnerability, and our humility. But sometimes that is easy, and it feels good when I cross the chasm to have a relationship with someone I want to reach.

So, then I couldn’t help but wonder, “What about those people, or groups, or institutions that I don’t want to serve, or relate to, or with whom I want to fix the chasm?” I am referring to those relationships where I justify the chasm, and I am perfectly happy with that chasm, now and in the afterlife. We all have those people whom we consciously ignore or avoid. Even someone rising from the dead to tell me I’m wrong, probably wouldn’t change my mind. I am stuck.

This is more real to the story of the rich man and Lazarus and the chasm that exists between them. The questions that I need to ask myself, as “the rich man,” are:

“What converts me?”

“What in the world jars me?”

“What compels me?”

“What gets my attention to the point of genuine action?”

The chasm is deep and the chasm is wide. Sometimes we reach across it for help, and don’t receive it. Sometimes someone reaches across the chasm for help from me and I don’t give it. Sometimes I ignore the chasm; sometimes I even like the chasm. But that is not the type of relationship to which we are called.

I, alone, cannot fix the chasm. And at the end of the story, we are left with more questions than answers. So what do I do? What do we do?

Now, this is where I’m going to try and drive a point home, but it’s not coming that easily, because this passage in Luke can feel pretty grim. We are called to hope and to love. In the simplest of terms, we hope that Jesus fills the chasm. We believe Jesus heals the chasm. Jesus closes the chasm. And we are compelled by Christ’s love to work together, to serve, to receive in the midst of co-creating the kingdom now and the kingdom to come.

With my dad, I prayed for years. I gave up. I was angry. I stopped caring. I didn’t give him an ounce of mercy. I cried because he was going to hell and I was going to heaven, and he is a super good dude. Lots of people would give anything to have my dad as their father. I went through all of these feelings, and eventually, as an adult, I stopped worrying. I just started loving—I became an uncomfortable witness in the chasm. And without my help, my father came back to his faith a couple of years ago. It seems weird. Was there ever even a chasm? Where there is such radical transformation, whatever I thought existed before is now difficult to remember. That is the power of Christ.

Honestly, there is a lot of discomfort with the relationship between my uncle and the rest of the family. It ought not be denied, but I have to hope that some day he will come to meet us in the discomfort, in the chasm that has already been healed. That is what Christ does. Christ fills the chasm between God and humankind, clean and unclean, rich and poor, Church of Christ and Church of Christ, gay and straight, man and woman, time and eternity…

It’s not our job to fix the chasm, because the chasm is fixed in Christ. I have to remain hopeful about the broken relationships in my life. If I don’t have the faith or the strength to hold onto that hope—if I feel helpless, then I should express my weakness. I ought to be able to confide in my community, where maybe someone else has enough hope and faith for me and for the transformations and healings that need to take place.

These passages, and all of Luke’s gospel, are about our inability to bring about transformation and healing on our own. Liberation comes with knowing this. It comes about by finding hope in our helplessness, and that hope is Jesus.

I will fail. I will be wrong. I will be rejected. I will reject. I will give up. I will ignore. I will deny. The list goes on. But I am only one person—we hope and we try and we have faith together. We do this—believing, hoping, suffering, healing, forgiving, and reconciling—together and in communities with Christ. We are uncomfortable together and we laugh and have fun together.

We shouldn’t keep the love and hope and riches to ourselves. And that way when I don’t have enough, I then can trust and have faith that someone else has it for me. When we walk together in the chasm, we experience Christ’s healing power, love, restorative justice, and forgiveness.

 

This sermon was published in Finding Their Voices: Sermons by Women in the Churches of Christ, ACU Press, 2015. Love, D. Editor.