PART TWO

22 Chorus
Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world. (John 1:29)

23 Air (Alto)
He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. (Isaiah 53:3) He gave His back to the smiters, and His cheeks to them that plucked off His hair: He hid not His face from shame and spitting. (Isaiah 50:6)

24 Chorus
Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows! He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him. (Isaiah 53:4-5)

25 Chorus
And with His stripes we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5)

26 Chorus
All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way. And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6)

27 Accompagnato (Tenor)
All they that see Him laugh Him to scorn; they shoot out their lips, and shake their heads, saying: (Psalm 22:7)

28 Chorus
“He trusted in God that He would deliver Him; let Him deliver Him, if He delight in Him.” (Psalm 22:8)

29 Accompagnato (Tenor)
Thy rebuke hath broken His heart: He is full of heaviness. He looked for some to have pity on Him, but there was no man, neither found He any to comfort him. (Psalm 69:20)

30 Arioso (Tenor)
Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto His sorrow. (Lamentations 1:12)

31 Accompagnato (Soprano or Tenor)
He was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgressions of Thy people was He stricken. (Isaiah 53:8)

32 Air (Soprano or Tenor)
But Thou didst not leave His soul in hell; nor didst Thou suffer Thy Holy One to see corruption. (Psalm 16:10)

33 Chorus
Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory? The Lord strong and mighty, The Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory? The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory. (Psalm 24:7-10)

34 Recitative (Tenor)
Unto which of the angels said He at any time: “Thou art My Son, this day have I begotten Thee?” (Hebrews 1:5)

35 Chorus
Let all the angels of God worship Him. (Hebrews 1:6)

36 Air (Alto or Soprano)
Thou art gone up on high; Thou hast led captivity captive, and received gifts for men; yea, even from Thine enemies, that the Lord God might dwell among them. (Psalm 68:18)

37 Chorus
The Lord gave the word; great was the company of the preachers. (Psalm 68:11)

38 Air (Soprano or Alto) (or Duet and Chorus (Soprano, Alto and Chorus)
How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things. (Isaiah 52:7; Romans 10:15)

39 Chorus (or air for tenor)
Their sound is gone out into all lands, and their words unto the ends of the world. (Romans 10:18; Psalm 19:4)

40 Air (Bass) (or Air and Recitative)
Why do the nations so furiously rage together, and why do the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth rise up, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord, and against His anointed. (Psalm 2:1-2)

41 Chorus
Let us break their bonds asunder, and cast away their yokes from us. (Psalm 2:3)

42 Recitative (Tenor)
He that dwelleth in Heav’n shall laugh them to scorn; The Lord shall have them in derision. (Psalm 2:4)

43 Air (Tenor)
Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel. (Psalm 2:9)

44 Chorus
Hallelujah: for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. (Revelation 19:6) The kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ; and He shall reign for ever and ever. (Revelation 11:15) King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. (Revelation 19:16)

PART THREE

45 Air (Soprano)
I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. (Job 19:25-26) For now is Christ risen from the dead, the first fruits of them that sleep. (1 Corinthians 15:20)

46 Chorus
Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15: 21-22)

47 Accompagnato (Bass)
Behold, I tell you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. (1 Corinthians 15: 51-52)

48 Air (Bass)
The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption and this mortal must put on immortality. (1 Corinthians 15:52-53)

49 Recitative (Alto)
Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” (1 Corinthians 15:54)

50 Duet (Alto & Tenor)
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. (1 Corinthians 15:55-56)

51 Chorus
But thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 15:57)

52 Air (Soprano & Alto)
If God be for us, who can be against us? (Romans 8:31) Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is at the right hand of God, who makes intercession for us. (Romans 8:33-34)

53 Chorus
Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by His blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Blessing and honour, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever. Amen. (Revelation 5:12-14)

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He is risen! … He is risen indeed!
Happy Easter.

Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. (Philippians 2:3-4)

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A little more than three weeks ago, in this space: I went on a bit — about admiring Famous Persons when I was a little guy, and every once in a while writing a Fan Letter. And sometimes receiving an authentic but (understandably) not super-personalized reply in return.

My previous writing was about Mary Whipple, the coxswain of the 2008 US Olympic rowing team.

Here’s another tale of “…whoa!” — my other Brush With Fame, from July of 2019. An example, I think, of someone Carrying Their Light Into the World quietly.

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In the middle of 2019, Ed Ross passed from this world to the next.

Mr. Ross was one of those folks who gain the unofficial title of “Pillar of the Church”; and I did and do call him Mr. Ross because that’s how I knew him first.

He was a consistent presence in my early life here at Sudbury UMC. His memorial service was held on the first of July 2019, in a little church on Cape Cod, and the content of that service reflected beautifully his gentlemanly presence in this world.

My mother and I took a leisurely drive “down the Cape” early that morning, parked the car, unpacked a picnic lunch, and enjoyed it and the beautiful sunny day on a shady patch of lawn across the street from that church. We saw a few people walking toward the church, and determined that we ought to join them, as it was getting close enough to the service’s starting time. We put the picnic equipment back into the car, and strolled up the gentle incline to the church.

I spotted, walking down the sidewalk toward the church from the opposite direction, someone dressed in what could only be described as a Pepto-Bismol-pink pantsuit. Head to toe: pink.

The figure, the gait, and the shock of short dark hair that topped the pink pantsuit that so very few other people on this earth could (or would) carry off … made me think perhaps I was looking at someone I actually knew.

Or knew of.

There were all manner of reasons why it was unlikely that this particular public figure would be seen in this place, at noon on a Monday, wearing that. Doesn’t live in this part of the world; is a very busy person. That sort of thing.

There was, though, one reason why this person would be seen there, and in a flash it made perfect sense to me. This person had grown up on the same road in Sudbury where Mr. Ross, and the Ross family, had lived.

I whispered to my mother, “I think I know who the pink pantsuit is.”

She whispered back, “…yes, that’s who that is.”

That person had come a long way to be there.

My mother and I reached the church well before the pink pantsuit. We entered the sanctuary, and found that the arrangement of pews was rather like many school auditoriums: a mass of seats stretching from the stage (sorry; chancel) most of the way to the rear of the room, but with a crossover aisle dividing those seats from a series of risers containing rows of individual chairs.

We settled into one of those rise-bound rows, noted that we were among the first few people there, and studiously examined our bulletins … and I spared a glance every ten seconds or so to see if the pink-clad person had actually been aiming for the church.

That person had. I worked very very hard not to appear to stare; but I did keep track of her movements. She entered the sanctuary … traversed the crossover aisle to the far side of the sanctuary … and sat down next to a very much older gentleman whom I did not recognize, who was sitting all by himself, with no one else at all sitting near him. It could have been chance, or his decision not to sit near anyone else; I didn’t know.

There were few enough people in the sanctuary, keeping a respectful near-silence, that I was able to overhear the pink-clad person when she turned to this gentleman, smiled kindly, and said in a quiet but friendly alto voice, “Hello. My name’s Paula. Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

He answered quietly; I don’t remember now what he said his name was. They spent the next minute or so exchanging pleasantries; and maybe it was my imagination, but the gentleman looked much more comfortable and relaxed after that minute or so.

The service began, progressed beautifully, and ended. Since we were in a church sanctuary at the end of a memorial service, I did not try to “accidentally” coordinate my path toward the exit with that of the pink-clad woman so as to get her autograph. I was, and am, a well-behaved person. This was neither the time nor the place.

But for the rest of that day … and many times since … I thought back to that moment before the service, when a woman in a fairly loud pink pantsuit quietly greeted a gentleman sitting alone in a pew.

As if she were concerned that he not feel alone before this service. As if she genuinely wanted to meet him. As if she weren’t a famous person, and didn’t require anyone to recognize her as such. As if she were simply a friendly someone, hoping to make a friendly connection to another human in a difficult moment.

As if she weren’t Paula Poundstone.

Because she was Paula Poundstone.

Yep. That Paula Poundstone. The comedian, Paula Poundstone, famous since she scored her first HBO solo comedy special in the mid-1980s, when that sort of thing was a big deal.

Who lived in Los Angeles and worked in comedy clubs around the country … but who grew up down the street from Ed Ross and the Ross family, and who therefore also benefited from Mr. Ross’s consistent and gentlemanly presence in her early life in Sudbury.

And therefore felt it was important to be there, then. To pay her respects … and to carry her light into the world. A light that was amplified by a hot pink pantsuit, yes, to be sure … but that light would have been evident even without.

I did a reeeeal good job of not publicly fanboying out any further than I already would have.

-Rob Hammerton

During Lent in 2019, I read a book of blessings by Jan Richardson. Jan has a talent for ingeniously turning difficult moments of grief into blessings, so the terrible is turned into love. Her “Blessing for Coming Home to an Empty House” was the inspiration for me to write a poem about cancer stealing my dad away the previous year. I can’t remember ever writing a poem, but writing this one helped me turn feelings of grief, sadness, anger, and fierce love into a memory I can laugh about. It also helped me reframe dreading to go to the place that reminds me of him the most.

During the children’s moment last week, Zack explained that we started out joyously saying “Hosanna!” but it is going to get terrible and sad real quick. But then, he went on to say that the greatest part is, “Jesus ruled with love. Love triumphs over death.” Yes! Love triumphs. After hearing this, I went home and reread the poem I wrote during Lent in 2019:

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Where the Light Shines Through
You may think this pew is empty.
It looks so.
With only the bright,
Golden sun light shining through.
But no. It is full.
It is where he sat,
Next to me,
Each Sunday
When he wasn’t ushering.

It looked empty
The day I bent my head in prayer,
Wondering if he wasn’t feeling well,
Or had other plans.
But then, the unison “Amen” and I looked up, to my right,
Expecting to see the light shining through. But no,
He was sitting next to me in that spot
And said with a grin,
“Were you praying I would show up?”
“Yes, Dad, I was.”

So sit in the spot where the light shines through.
It is not empty.
Sing with good courage,
Do all the good you can for as long as you can,
Remember your blessings.
Love is here to stay.

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There are a multitude of emotions going on in the story of Jesus this week and they are all valid and important. Let us experience them together on Good Friday and look forward to an Easter celebration with Hallelujahs and trumpets! Love will triumph on Easter!

-Alison Condon

Last Sunday, during the “Passion” portion of Palm-Passion Sunday, I was upstairs in the nursery. Besides my baby boy, there were two toddlers and a preschooler. All four children were having a blast, so it was an active environment. We could hear Libby narrating the passion, but “focus” was hard to come by, and so the parent conversation became about how and when to tell our small children about Jesus’ death (which, as if death wasn’t hard enough a topic, was a particularly horrifying death).

And then we noticed the lights go out in the service and saw the shutters being closed. We quickly turned off the nursery light so it didn’t spill into worship, and all three of the children who could stand on two legs went immediately to the window to peer into the dark sanctuary. This was something new and they wanted to know what was happening!

I sat on the floor with my seven-month-old and listened and watched while two moms explained gently to their children that we were remembering how Jesus died so that we could be with God – and not to worry because Jesus was going to rise from the dead so that everyone will know God loves us.

“When” became “now.” “How” became “together.” It was inspiring. Those two moms knew that the time was right and trusted that the Spirit was moving (whether or not that was a conscious thought in their minds, I cannot say, but I could tell from my spot on the floor). Here’s the most important part, though…

The children were listening.

I hope I never forget that moment.

As a children’s pastor, I love talking to your kids about Jesus. I also know that Pastor Leigh loves talking to your kids about Jesus, but we aren’t the ones who truly matter. For a child, there is nobody in the world whose faith matters more than a parent.

Tell your children the stories of Jesus. They’ll listen.

-Zack Moser

[Pre-devotion note from SUMC’s Director of Youth and Children’s Ministries: Read this devotion and be inspired. It is a testimony to how much intergenerational relationships and ministries matter; and do not let it be missed that the thing that meant the most to this youth is how someone has given up their time for him.
Thank you for indulging this preface. Read and be inspired.]

Dear Church,

I am writing this devotion because of the love and support I get at SUMC.

I especially want to say thank you to all the people in the Choir and Gospel Group that have provided amazing opportunities to share our music with everyone. Recently, I have gotten to sit down with Rob and Kevin and learn about music theory. They give up a half-hour during coffee hour every week just to teach me music. It already meant so much for me to play drums for the Gospel Group and in worship, and then on top of that having a one-on-one music chat after the service. I don’t think I have met anyone else who would do that.

I am trying my best to improve my musical talent and I am looking forward to hopefully sharing what they have taught me with the congregation in the near future.

-Samuel (from our SUMC Youth)

As I was sitting at the Lenten Supper last Wednesday night, I was struck by how everyone at the table has been carrying their light — by simply being a pillar of strength for others and then continuing to show up. All of the people at the table have been in service to others by being a primary caretaker of children or a spouse who faced illness. I know all of them have experienced dark hours where it probably felt unbearable.

The conversation turned to how some situations were harder than others. I think each “hard” is only a matter of perspective and the only way through it is to roll up your sleeves and do it. You face it because you have too, not because you are strong.

It reminded of a part in Ann Lamott’s book Operating Instructions: A Journal of My Son’s First Year where she writes, “…it turns out that you’ve already gone ahead and done it before you realize you couldn’t possibly do it, not in a million years.”

I’m pretty sure everyone at that soup table is tired and worn down. And yet, despite the trials they have faced they are here supporting each other and finding community with others at SUMC. I think part of that is because we share the same story of Jesus. We know how the story plays out and choose to be with Him anyway. We will bear witness. We will be the light.

Prayer: Dear God, We pray that you will help us to bear witness to all those in our lives by showing up for each other and those that don’t yet know the love of Jesus. We are caretakers of each other and ourselves by sitting in the pews each Sunday singing our praise to You for giving us Your only Son. Through despair and hope may we rise up, be the light, and make disciples of Jesus throughout the world. Amen.

-Alison Condon

³⁴“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. ³⁵For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, ³⁶I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
³⁷“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? ³⁹When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
⁴⁰“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” Matthew 25:35-40

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My mom and I arrived in the US in 1970. We were not fleeing religious persecution, rampant crime, or political turmoil when we left India. We came to the US in search of the “American Dream.” Unfortunately, many immigrants who arrive in this country are fleeing dangers and circumstances we cannot conceive of. All Americans of non-Indigenous heritage are the descendants of immigrants. They all travelled to America, sometimes at great peril, to make a better life for themselves. While America does need to address our issues with immigration, the current political climate is targeting very specific immigrants – people of color.

When mom and I arrived, we lived in Brooklyn, NY, with my aunt and grandmother. I entered the American education system as a third grader. As is true of most people, and especially kids, I did my best to blend in so that I would not “stand out” in the wrong way. Luckily, television, and my ability to mimic, sped up the process of losing my accent. Fortunately, New York, like many large cities, is packed with people of diverse origins, skin colors, languages, and beliefs. I am incredibly grateful for the friends I made in my youth and for the acceptance shown to my family by our community and by the Park Slope United Methodist Church.

The words “Immigrant” and “Immigration” have taken on terribly negative connotations recently. Although I am not currently the ethnicity being targeted, I am acutely aware how throughout history, many groups have become scapegoats due to the intolerance and hatred of others. My heart always breaks a little when I’m told “I don’t think of you as a minority, or immigrant” because it implies that I’ve done a great job of fitting their expectation of what a true “American” is, but they fail to see the real me! All the immigrants throughout US history have contributed to the diverse tapestry that makes this country what it is.

As the youth group answers when Zack asks the question “Who is the church?” … We are the church! We are the hands, feet, hearts, ears, and voices of God. As the Bible passage above above reminds us, when we welcome the stranger, we invite Jesus into our presence.

-Shetal Kaye

This past Wednesday, at the last of the Lenten Supper series, I saw what I considered a mini-miracle. As had happened before every other Lenten supper, we gathered to form a prayer circle. As people joined, the circle grew larger, and larger. and larger, seemingly larger than in the previous weeks. I whispered to the person next to me, “I don’t think we have enough seats for everyone.” The four tables of eight that had sufficed in previous weeks wouldn’t hold this crowd.

Apparently I was not the only one to notice, because as soon as the prayer ended folks sprang into action. A group carried over a table and set it up while other people brought over eight more chairs. Meanwhile someone who knew where the tablecloths were stored brought one over and draped it on the table. More helpful hands appeared with silverware, napkins, water glasses, a pitcher of water, bread, and butter. It was as if a magician (or Disney) had magically pulled a perfectly set table out of thin air and placed it neatly next to the other tables in Hawes Hall. Amazing. A mini-miracle!

In the Biblical story of the feeding of the five thousand, the disciples worried how they could possibly feed so many. They even considered sending them away. Jesus had a different solution. Looking at the child’s offering of five loaves of bread and two fishes, He said, in my personal interpretation, “Don’t worry. If we share what we have, we will all have enough.” There was even more than enough, as there were twelve baskets full of food left over.

If we share what we have, we will all have enough. Words to live by.

Let us always celebrate and give thanks for the sharing and caring community that we are a part of here at Sudbury United Methodist Church.

-Sandy Burns

[Ed. note: It’s a LentBlog Replay! Specifically, a Lenten devotion from the online LentBlog project’s very first year – 2019. We’re presenting it again, here, in support of SUMC’s “Easter Egg Olympics” event … which is happening again, TOMORROW at 2pm, weather or not! :) We invite you to visit SUMC’s website, http://www.sudbury-umc.org, for more details – and then come see!]

My family’s celebration of Easter when I was a child always included the traditional Easter egg hunt. My dad carefully hid the dyed hard-boiled eggs and more permanent eggs made of colorful pieces of cloth. My younger brother and I didn’t waste much time filling our baskets with found eggs. To be honest, though, I was never quite sure what eggs and a bunny had to do with Easter.

Now, fast-forward 35 years to a new version of the Easter egg hunt tradition. Our “Saturday Night Live” covenant group for older parents of younger children marshaled our cumulative experience to present the best Easter egg hunt ever for our kids. And I was chosen to don the Easter Bunny costume and hop around the lawn of the Los Altos UMC where the hunt was held. The costume was complete with a fluffy cotton-tail, a big round smiley face and long rabbit ears.

The afternoon was quite warm under the California sun. Bunny assistants helped hide the eggs. Then we released the kids to go find them. As usual, the older kids grabbed most of the eggs before the younger ones figured out what to do, so the Easter Bunny had to hop around the lawn and help the little ones fill their baskets.

When all the eggs had been gathered, the temperature inside the bunny costume had risen substantially, and with great relief I removed the head. But before I could take a breath of fresh air, our three-year old son Charlie saw his daddy inside the bunny’s body and broke down crying and sobbing, “…the Easter Bunny ate Daddy … the Easter Bunny ate Daddy…” as he ran to Margriet for consolation. It took a while to remove the rest of the costume and convince Charlie that his Daddy was alive and well.

Centuries ago, rabbits were a symbol of fertility and new life. Eggs were also an ancient symbol of new life, which perhaps caused eggs to be associated with bunnies during the springtime celebration of Easter, since the Resurrection gave new life to Jesus and his followers. That’s one possible origin of the association of eggs and bunnies with Easter.

There’s also a mini-lesson in Charlie’s experience with the Easter Bunny. Just as Jesus came back to life after His crucifixion, Charlie’s Daddy came back to life in his mind after being devoured by the Easter Bunny.

Of course, there’s a lot more to Easter than bunnies and eggs, and it’s easy to devote too much attention to the them and not enough attention to the resurrection of our Lord.

Prayer: Dear Lord, we thank you for your son Jesus whose resurrection gave us new life. As we celebrate Easter may the eggs and the bunnies remind us of the Risen Lord and the salvation he brought to us. In His name we pray, Amen.

-Richard Morris

[Ed. note: here is a different take on responding to one of this year’s writing prompt’s, “Someone I need to support is…” — perhaps you have felt similarly?]

“Someone I need to support is …”

… giving me a very, very real case of “I just don’t know”.

With each life comes… you know the rest of that thought, right?

I’ve hit the wall … I tried to be the ears of Christ. I listened. I offered what I thought were loving and supportive words. I’ve tried to be the arms, opened, ready to hug as they are filled.

It is not working the way I hoped. There are circumstances I can’t change.

Lent is at a time of year that this is most obvious, isn’t it? We are heading out of dark, cold winter, and into greener, warmer days. The sunlight lasts longer.

It still gets dark each night. And every morning the sun comes up and the grass is growing and daffodils are getting ready to pop open and hope arises.

I am thankful for the hope that spring brings.

-Cindi Bockweg

My best friend of twenty-three years is on the other end of the phone sobbing. It is 2 AM and I am downstairs whispering, to not wake anyone one up. If she were here I would hug her; as it is, I am trying to hug her down the phone line as I just sit and listen to the end of her marriage.

This isn’t our first, or probably last, painful call … and in that moment I am struck by a profound realization.

Being her friend wasn’t just something I was doing. It was something I was receiving. At fifty years old, I’ve come to understand something that my younger self couldn’t fully grasp. We often express gratitude for having friends, but the true privilege — the real gift — is being able to be a friend.

There’s something sacred about being the person whom someone calls in the middle of the night when their world is crumbling.

Something precious about being trusted with someone’s heartbreak, their fears, their unfiltered thoughts.

Something profound about being the shoulder they choose to cry on, the ear they want to hear their stories, the heart they trust with their vulnerability.

I’ve stood beside my friend as she buried her mother. Held her hand as she waited for biopsy results. Celebrated when her son graduated from high school. Listened when her marriage hit rocky ground. Laughed until we cried over memories only we share. These weren’t burdens — they were privileges.

When my best friend’s husband left suddenly, I didn’t think twice about showing up on her doorstep with groceries and wine. I stayed for three days, helping her navigate the initial shock. Later, she told me those days were what kept her from falling apart completely. What she didn’t understand was how much it meant to me that I could be that person for her.

There’s a unique joy in being needed, in being useful, in being trusted. In knowing that your presence matters to someone you care about deeply.

When my children were young, I had friends who showed up with meals when I was overwhelmed, who took my kids for playdates when I needed a break, who listened without judgment when I confessed my parenting insecurities. I was grateful then for what they gave me. But now, years later, I realize that the opportunity to do the same for them was an equally precious gift.

Being the friend who drives three hours to sit in a hospital waiting room. Being the friend who remembers birthdays and anniversaries and difficult dates. Being the friend who knows when to push and when to just listen.

These aren’t obligations — they’re opportunities to practice the most profound form of human connection.

A friend recently thanked me for “always being there,” and I almost laughed. Doesn’t she understand? Being allowed into her life, being trusted with her story, being chosen as her confidante — these are gifts she has given me, not the other way around.

At fifty, I’ve accumulated enough life experience to know that we’re not meant to travel through this world alone. We need community, connection, companionship.

But what I understand now that I didn’t fully grasp in my younger years is that being needed is as essential as needing others.

When we’re young, friendship often feels like something that happens around the edges of life — between classes, after work, on weekends. But as we age, as life grows more complex; friendship becomes the foundation that holds everything else together.

It’s a profound privilege to walk alongside someone through the decades, to witness their story unfold, to hold space for their growth and struggles and triumphs. To be trusted with their secrets, their insecurities, their dreams.

So yes, I am grateful for my friends. But more than that, I am grateful for the opportunity to be a friend. To show up. To listen. To remember. To witness. To celebrate. To comfort.

Being someone’s friend isn’t something we do — it’s something we’re allowed to be. It is a gift life has given us.

-anonymous writer on the “Grown & Flown” Facebook page

[This writing appears on the LentBlog by permission of the moderator of the “Grown & Flown” Facebook page.]

Lately, I’ve found myself weighed down by the state of the world — political division, emotional turmoil, and the constant negativity that seems to seep into every conversation. It’s easy to feel disheartened, even bitter, about the way things are.

But I’ve also learned that bitterness only steals my peace and dims my light. As someone who works closely with people — whether in my church community or through my work in executive search — I see firsthand how negativity can cloud judgment and harden hearts.

And yet, Christ calls me to something different. Ephesians 4:31-32 reminds me, “Get rid of all bitterness, rage, and anger… Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” I don’t want to let the world’s chaos make me cold. Instead, I want to choose warmth, kindness, and grace — to be better, not bitter.

When I make that choice, I feel a shift. I find more joy in the work I do, more patience in the conversations I have, and more peace in my heart. And in those moments, I realize that being better doesn’t just change me — it allows Christ’s light to shine through me for others to see.

Whether it’s arranging flowers for worship, rallying volunteers, offering encouragement to my friends and colleagues, or simply being present for those around me, I want to be someone who draws people in with love, rather than pushing them away with bitterness. Jesus never let the world’s brokenness steal His light, and neither should any of us.

By choosing to be better, we can impact others and help them walk in the light, feel the light, and be a light for others. So, be better, not bitter!

-Kristen Straub

[Ed. note: this is a response to one of this year’s Lenten writing prompts, “Here is a special hymn, and why it’s special to me…” The author notes that it isn’t an Easter hymn, as the original prompt suggested, but hopes that you won’t hold that against her.]

As many of you may know, my former husband was in sales for a paper company, and every promotion meant a move to a bigger market sales office. Although we grew up outside of Cleveland, Ohio, we lived in Westbrook, Maine … Muskegon, Michigan … and Chicago, Illinois (all three of my children were born there in Evanston). Then we moved to Rockville, Maryland, and Brasschaat, Belgium (outside of Antwerp).

Living overseas with three elementary-school-age children was a challenge. They attended the Antwerp International School, which had twenty-two countries represented, but was based on the American school system and many of the staff were Americans. It was difficult being away from family and friends, but the American community became like family to us.

On Sundays the Protestants and Catholics would get together to have a joint worship service. We both knew one hymn and since it was between the years 1975 and 1979, and we all were praying for peace, we sang it every Sunday. It’s number 431 in our United Methodist hymnal.

LET THERE BE PEACE ON EARTH
Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me;
Let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be.
*With God our creator, children all are we.
Let us walk with each other in perfect harmony.
Let peace begin with me; let this be the moment now.
With every step I take, let this be my solemn vow:
To take each moment and live each moment in peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.

Back in the 1970s, we sang the original words: With God as our Father, brothers all are we / Let me walk with my brother in perfect harmony.

Either way, I still love this hymn and think we need these words even more today than we did back then. Let us all pray for peace in this troubled world.

-Judy Aufderhaar

“A man’s work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.”
-Albert Camus

---

Although some Sudbury UMC folks do know this particular fact about me, it may not be evident during, say, your average Sunday worship service at Sudbury UMC.

The only moment at which it might be on display comes at the end of every Friday “Choir Director Check-In” video I do for the church Facebook page, just as my face is fading away and my eMail address is coming onto the screen.

Hi. My name is Rob, and I like Star Trek.

From the late 1960s through probably the mid-2000s I think … this was not necessarily a characteristic that a lot of similarly-inclined people shouted from the rooftops.

But long before Star Trek somehow stopped being referred to by pop-culture writers as “a cult classic”, and began to be seen as a little more retro-hip — or at least, not so much something that drew instant snickering — various commonly-used phrases from within that TV program had already made it into the popular lexicon.

“Live long and prosper.” “Warp speed.” “Beam me up, Scotty” (a line of dialogue which, fun fact, was never spoken in exactly that way by any character).

It was only a matter of time before the general public caught on; but to a lot of us it seemed like a really long matter-of-time.

So, for years and years, “Trekkie” was more of an epithet than a simple descriptive noun.

But if there’s one thing that us “Trekkies” are good at … it’s bearing those gentle slings and arrows, and maintaining our reputation for being one of the most positive and supportive fan bases in American entertainment.

(In this age of social media, with its ability to nurture the worst instincts of online flame-throwing commenters — who can throw their flame from the safety of relative anonymity — there are of course people who claim to be Star Trek fans, but don’t exactly rise to the noble ideal. They’re more “my way or the highway” people — if I don’t like something that Star Trek did, then it’s worthless!! And the rest of us Trekkies look over at them and think, did you learn nothing from Mr. Spock’s philosophy, appreciation for “infinite diversity in infinite combinations”? As actor William Shatner once cracked, “–get a life!”)

“‘Star Trek’ was an attempt to say humanity will reach maturity and wisdom on the day that it begins not just to tolerate, but take a special delight in, differences in ideas and differences in lifeforms.”
-Gene Roddenberry (Star Trek creator)

Straight from the beginning, Trek has been: lots of different-looking people working together for the common good – on a spaceship with lots of fun blinky lights.

And in their best moments, the various Trek spinoff series have done what great science fiction should do: tell thinly-veiled stories about current controversial issues, and slide some social commentary in, right under the noses of whatever TV network executives were distributing them.

“I’d argue that in the last few decades in America, when people are asked what they hope the future will look like, they still turn to ‘Star Trek.’ They hope we put aside our differences and come together as humanity, that we rise above war, poverty, racism, and other problems that have beset us.”
-Ronald D. Moore (Star Trek: The Next Generation writer and script editor)

Lately, I’ve had a grand time reading and hearing accounts of the fun that was had during the making of the first sequel-series, Star Trek: The Next Generation. On a recent episode of a podcast called “TrekCulture”, actor Wil Wheaton recounted the immediate friendly connection amongst his colleagues from the Next Generation cast; and expressed appreciation for the decades-long continuation of the genuine affection that they all hold for one another. It’s reportedly not just a public-facing act. And it’s consistently on display — and lights up the room! — whether they’re reunited on a podcast, or at a restaurant, or at a science-fiction convention.

Which brings me to the main thrust of today’s symposium: for about the last fifty years, Trekkies have been venturing out into the world, and finding each other — the better to compare notes about their favorite TV show, and to work out new ways to bring its overarching message of hope for humanity.

Finding each other has taken the form of Star Trek conventions. In the mid-1970s, the first few of these gatherings seemed to be for the purpose of creating a “safe space” to appreciate a favorite TV show. Nowadays, they are that, but they’re also huge commercial ventures.

But the original spirit of the “cons” does live on, expressed outwardly by the many people who “cosplay” – who dress up as their favorite characters, human or alien. Sometimes the costumes are basic; other times, they are elaborate. Either way, at heart, they’re expressions of affection.

To be clear: I watch Trek, I read books about it, I gleefully discuss it with old friends and new … but I don’t wear it. (Well, except for the time when somehow, in a moment of either inattention or understanding, my mother let me wear a yellow Captain Kirk uniform shirt on school-picture day. Cut me a break — I was in the fourth grade.)

I’ve only ever been to one Star Trek convention. It was held in a large hotel in Cambridge, in spring of 1992. My inspiration for going: the keynote speaker was going to be none other than Sir Patrick Stewart — the Next Generation’s starship captain, Jean-Luc Picard, his very own self.

Yeah, I’ll pay money to go listen to that.

So I boarded an MBTA train at Riverside station, and got ready to take that Green Line in to Boston, change to a Red Line train headed back out in the general direction of Harvard University (“out there… thataway!”), and attend my first Con.

Not that I was going to advertise this to anyone on the train. Oh my no. It was still 1992, after all.

One stop after I changed to that Red Line train, it was confirmed for me that I had in fact taken the correct connecting train.

A family of four — Mom, Dad, sister, brother — boarded the train and sat down in seats across from me. We all faced in toward the middle of the train. And I knew, deep in my heart, that we were all headed to the same destination.

It wasn’t their aura of good cheer, though they did seem cheery enough — arguably far too cheery for that early on a Saturday morning. It was, instead, the fact that they were each of them dressed in full and painstakingly authentic Star Trek: The Next Generation uniforms. Maroon-and-black jumpsuits, with rank-insignia pips at the top of the collars, and the famous delta-shaped USS Enterprise logo over their hearts.

A tiny psychic ripple did go through the MBTA train, as various passengers took silent note of the outfits. And I’m sure that the unvoiced thoughts ranged from “uhh… okay…” to “…nerds…”. It was still 1992, after all.

And even nowadays, any time a family of four boards a train looking like Captain Picard, Doctor Crusher, the android Data, and Counselor Troi, it’s still not the usual occurrence, so it’ll get a certain amount of notice.

That family clearly knew what they looked like. They didn’t exude a sense of “yeah, I’m dressed like this, and what are you gonna do about it?” defiance. They instead looked, for all the world, like they wore that stuff all the time, wherever they went. It was impressive in that way — like the Monty Python actors walking around in the middle of town dressed up as English housewives, or as English clerics, or as medieval knights, as if it were perfectly normal.

(Nerds, you will understand me when I say that I felt for a moment as if I were in that scene from Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home when Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock and the rest of the Original Series crew board a trolley in San Francisco, after having time-traveled back to 1986 Earth, and everybody on board looks at them funny.)

And that family seemed not to be worried about gentle slings and arrows that might come their way. They were comfortable in their own skins — and in their own absolutely authentic-looking (while clearly homemade) starship uniforms.

Happily, neither slings nor arrows were sent their way, at least nothing you could see or hear. Which was impressive.

I’d love to say that I gave them a cheerful thumbs up, smiled widely, asked them which episode was their favorite, and now we’re lifelong friends.

Didn’t happen. I did glance up, smile quietly — yeah, I get the joke and I’m laughing WITH it, not AT it — and look back down my folded hands.

But the experience suggested to me that I — still, then, a Shy Person in word and deed — might one day consider coming closer to wearing my heart on my sleeve. To demonstrate my appreciation for a science-fiction franchise, my opinions about current events, even perhaps my love of God (well, let’s not push this too far ;) ). To carry my light into the world.

Hey, if the Hendersons can march right out into a world that still saw Star Trek as a cult classic, with everything the word “cult” implies … then, maybe this Shy Person can attempt similar things. Maybe even discover other people who have similar interests, or takes on life, or feelings about the Spirit.

Mind. Blown.

P.S.: Yes, Sir Patrick Stewart did speak to a packed convention hall (full of people who had dressed the part!) for better than an hour, that afternoon … and he was, quite simply, as advertised.

-Rob Hammerton

[Ed. note: The youth of Sudbury UMC continue to answer the call for Lenten Devotions writers! Today features a pair of responses to a devotional prompt: “One time I should have praised God instead of complaining…”

A note from Pastor of Youth and Children’s Ministries Zack Moser: “There is an accidental theme to these stories (the youth didn’t know what each other were writing about), and it is the realization that complaining actually blinded them to opportunities for praise. The difference between an adventure and an ordeal is perspective.”]

“One time I had to study for a math quiz. No one likes quizzes, especially math quizzes, but it’s just one of those things you have to do. When you study for any type of quiz, it makes you feel good because you feel more ready. Then it makes you feel better when you get a good grade on the quiz. Then it makes you feel even better when you know that the good grade will help in the future when you want to go to college. The point is, I complained about doing work but doing the work made me happier, so I should have praised God.”

---

“One time I should have praised God instead of complaining was when I wanted to play a game that they other youth were playing while I was writing this devotion, but I couldn’t play because I wasn’t done writing yet. I still tried to play the game, and started to complain about not being able to play the game and having to write the devotion when I could have already finished writing it by now. I should have been writing this as an act of praising God.”

[Ed. note: A follow-up note from Zack: the above youth finished writing and got to play the game.]

-The SUMC Youth

[Ed. note: The youth of Sudbury UMC continue to answer the call for Lenten Devotions writers!
Pastor of Youth and Children’s Ministries Zack Moser says, about these Youth thoughts: “SUMC Youth respond to a devotional prompt: ‘At this point in my life, here’s a change that God wants me to accept…’
“The accidental theme of these responses (the youth didn’t know what each other were going to write) is not knowing what is going to happen. A relatable sentiment, no doubt, but where we should follow their lead rather than relate is in trying to trust God’s wisdom as we stare into the unknown future.”]

“God wants me to have a deep understanding of the Bible and of trying to use it in my life. I know that nobody’s perfect, so I don’t know what I will do for God’s plan, but I pray that what I do in the future will affect many (or at least a few) in a very positive way, and understanding the Bible will help me see what to do. I pray for love and courage in my life moving forward. Amen.”

---

“I haven’t accepted growing up yet, but I am working on it. I don’t actually want it to happen, but there’s no preventing it and God wants me to accept that. I guess I’m a little afraid because I love being younger and I don’t know what life will be like when I’m older, but God knows what I need.”

-The SUMC Youth

[Ed. note: The youth of Sudbury UMC have answered the call for Lenten Devotions writers! Today features the third of three sets of responses to one of this year’s devotional prompts: “Here’s a time in my life when someone did a small thing for me that ended up being a big deal…”
A note from Pastor of Youth and Children’s Ministries Zack Moser: “Little things really do make big differences. In the following stories, there is an accidental theme throughout most of them (the youth didn’t know what each other were going to write). In these moments, they felt acknowledged on a personal level. Even the stories where something is received or gained, the emphasis is on how the act made them feel like they mattered.”]

“There was someone in my friend group that I looked up to but I didn’t think I was that important to her. One day, she asked me if I wanted to go see a movie and hang out before. I had an amazing day, partly because it was a lot of fun, but mostly because I felt like she wanted to be better friends instead of people who just know each other.”

---

“One time a friend showed me a book, told me I should read it, and let me borrow it. The book was A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder. (It’s about a girl who INVESTIGATES a murder, not a ‘how to,” just to be clear!) I didn’t think it would be that great, but my friend obviously knows me well. I read it and it was really good. Now it’s my favorite book series.”

-The SUMC Youth

[Ed. note: The youth of Sudbury UMC have answered the call for Lenten Devotions writers! Today features the second of three sets of responses to one of this year’s devotional prompts: “Here’s a time in my life when someone did a small thing for me that ended up being a big deal…”
A note from Pastor of Youth and Children’s Ministries Zack Moser: “Little things really do make big differences. In the following stories, there is an accidental theme throughout most of them (the youth didn’t know what each other were going to write). In these moments, they felt acknowledged on a personal level. Even the stories where something is received or gained, the emphasis is on how the act made them feel like they mattered.”]

“One time I left my favorite stuffed animal at my grandparents’ house (and if you have kids or if you were ever a kid, then you know that was a big deal!). They mailed it to me, which gave me a new appreciation for how much my family loves me. It was a small thing, but it meant the world at the time.”

---

“My friend and I once got into a big argument over something small. I was mad at her for nearly three weeks … and then I thought about it and realized she was right. I learned I need to have a more open mind. She was more than willing to make up and leave the argument behind.”

-The SUMC Youth

[Ed. note: The youth of Sudbury UMC have answered the call for Lenten Devotions writers! Today features the first of three sets of responses to one of this year’s devotional prompts: “Here’s a time in my life when someone did a small thing for me that ended up being a big deal…”
A note from Pastor of Youth and Children’s Ministries Zack Moser: “Little things really do make big differences. In the following stories, there is an accidental theme throughout most of them (the youth didn’t know what each other were going to write). In these moments, they felt acknowledged on a personal level. Even the stories where something is received or gained, the emphasis is on how the act made them feel like they mattered.”]

“I go to Wayland Middle School and once a month the teachers gather everyone in my grade in the gym and hand out “W”s, which means they appreciate what that student has done in class. Only about ten people get them per month, and this month I got one from my favorite teacher. This meant a lot to me because someone I look up to recognized me.”

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“Recently, a teacher from another school came to my school to start a DnD Club (“DnD” is short for Dungeons and Dragons, a very loud and chaotic role-playing game). They spend an hour supervising the club once a week. That seems like a small action and not much time, but DnD Club is a massive reward on Mondays after school. It shows that this teacher cares about kids’ interests and not just their grades.”

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“When I was in 8th grade, I hated math (many of you may relate to this), but the reason for my hatred was the horribly competitive class environment. Half of my 8th grade math class was made up of 7th graders taking extracurricular math classes. Those students were used to being the smartest and had very high standards for themselves; I remember one classmate literally crying about getting a 92 on a test that I got a 75 on. What made things worse was that I had no friends in that class (there were people I knew, but nobody close), and the loneliness made everything else feel even worse.

“On one test, I got a 67, which was the worst test grade I had ever gotten and was visibly upset. A classmate noticed, asked what was up, and said “Ah…” when I showed him the grade. After a moment, he asked, “do you want me to tape over that?” (He always carried a role of masking tape because you never know; 8th grade is a magical time.) I nodded, and he proceeded to do such a horrible job of covering the grade that the page ended up a folded, crumpled mess, and I laughed. I’m sure it wasn’t a big deal to him, but that made me realize I wasn’t as alone as I thought I was. We’re much closer now, and I think about that masking tape often. Because he wanted to help and was hopeless at using tape, it turned the worst grade of my life into a fond memory.”

-The SUMC Youth

A few decades ago, I learned about SUMC. It wasn’t because of a happy thing that I walked into the doors, for the first time. I was attending a funeral.

The love being shared struck me, and I wanted to return. I learned a bit, then a bit more, and I became a member.

One of those little things I learned stuck in a little fuzzy spot, after I thought, “not me”. It was pretty basic: John Wesley drank water, a significant amount of water, as a part of the start to his day.

I had animals to feed, children to keep an eye on, etc. My intention to follow his example faded.

Then, a few years ago, I started getting a tingly feeling in my left foot as I got out of bed in the morning. I told my doctor during a routine checkup. She didn’t seem too concerned, just said we’d keep an eye on it, and may have given me a plan of action; I don’t recall.

Six months later, I had another routine visit and mentioned tingly stuff to the nurse practitioner, who made a note. Life happened, and six months later I reported the continuance to the doctor.

I remember she got a look on her face which I hadn’t seen before. She stressed that she wasn’t very concerned, but thought a check with another doctor might be a good idea.

The doctor was a specialist, which didn’t faze me much, until I walked through the door, reading the word oncology as I did. I had a flash of panic, and then focused on the word hematology that I had been told about.

Turned out, I needed to drink more water. Just like I’d already been told, in a few ways!

Since then, I have grumbled and also accepted the reality that drinking water does stop my foot from getting tingly while I sleep. And, another thing that happened caused me to wonder… for the first time in three repeated quicker-than-usual colonoscopies, I didn’t need to have polyps removed.

I’m not going to pretend to enjoy frequent bathroom breaks. I am quite sure that while I’d be more content not to be awakened by the (bathroom) light, I AM better off that way, because of that very basic need for water.

I am hopeful that I will put that experience into more parts of my life. And, I hope my being slow at putting knowledge into effort is putting a little light on basic needs we all share.

-Cindi Bockweg

“Let no evil talk come out of your mouths but only what is good for building up,[a] as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.” (Ephesians 4:29)

When I was a little guy, I did what most little guys did: wrote fan letters to my favorite athletes, actors, etc. Sometimes they even replied! … and so before the age of eleven, I had amassed things like:

• a signed photo (it was a stamped autograph) of Rich Little, the impressionist;
• a signed photo (I’m not sure whether the autograph was stamped or hand-signed) of Bobby Orr, only the greatest Boston Bruin who ever lived;
• a team photo of the 1970 Minnesota Vikings (don’t ask – I must have liked the uniforms – come on, I was four years old!); and
• a series of signed (genuinely signed) photos of on-air personalities from Boston radio stations like WBZ-AM (Dave Maynard, Carl DeSuze, Bob Raleigh, Larry Glick), WHDH-AM (Jess Cain) and WEEI-AM (the legendary David Brudnoy, before he became a ‘BZ icon).

I admired plenty of famous persons, from TV and movies and sports and such. But the autographs and form letters only occasionally had something that might maybe have personalized them (“To Rob, Keep listening! -Bob”). I’ve not really ever been on the other end of that relationship – never been a Famous Person writing thank-you notes to his fans! – but I can imagine that the more Famous a Person you are, the harder it is to really genuinely connect with anyone out there.

I found my first example of someone who really DID genuinely connect, in 2008, and she became my first genuine Brush With Fame.

As a teacher on summer vacation, I was therefore awake at a ridiculously wee hour watching live coverage of the Beijing Olympics: crew and men’s field hockey and water polo and handball and all those non-prime-time, non-gymnastics, non-track-and-field sports that get no press whatever. And I saw something that the world missed almost completely.

Her name was Mary Whipple; she was the coxswain of the US women’s-eight crew team; she was about five foot nothing but OH, was she in charge! And the women’s-eight race was shown live on network TV at that ridiculous hour. And the American team won it. Start to finish, in the lead.

When I was a little guy, I would have had to somehow find the mailing address of US Rowing, or something. From the public library? Good luck. But thanks to the Internet and all, it was easy, at 2:30 am Eastern time, to write and send a Fan Letter by eMail. Here’s what I sent:

“Ms. Whipple,
“To be clear: I DID know what crew was before it got on TV this weekend. I see it going on, on the lake at the edge of Worcester, MA, where I live; and a childhood friend of mine was a coxswain at Connecticut College. But seeing the women’s eight do their thing in China yesterday… and then getting to hear the Star-Spangled Banner played… well, forgive the doggerel:

“We saw tiny gymnast people
And that brawny swimmer guy
But the memory that I’ll keep’ll
Be none of those, d’you know why?
Wire-to-wire upon the water,
Winners!, that U.S. octet
D’you believe it? Well you oughter:
Other boats ain’t finished yet
Rich guys in Beijing play roundball
Phelps will get endorsement deals
Track stars sometimes to the ground fall
But rower women, they got wheels!
All the sports the guys on TV
Thought that we’d appreciate
Can’t compare to Whipple, Mary,
And those awesome rowin’ eight.

“Sincerely, and I mean that, …”

I didn’t expect, nor did I require, a reply. Just thought the team deserved at least one fan letter – they looked like Good People.

But a day or so later, I got one.

Somehow, even though she had just won an Olympic gold medal; even though she was still in China; even though she probably should have been out celebrating the victory … she still took time to write a short eMail reply. No pre-stamped photo; no boilerplate “keep watchin’ crew!” – but a real reply from a real person.

“Thanks Rob, I’ve never had someone write a poem about my team and I. I really appreciate it and enjoyed reading it. It was amazing to hear that we made USA proud of us. Thanks again, -mary”.

That’s how you start a fan club.

-Rob Hammerton

“So he was there with the Lord forty days and forty nights. He neither ate bread nor drank water. And he wrote on the tablets the words of the covenant, the Ten Commandments.” (Exodus 34:28)

This summer and fall, I dipped my toe into becoming a published author in my field, and was lucky to get an editor to bite and to publish my article in EdWeek magazine. The topic of my article was flow theory – a term and idea coined by notable psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihaly.

Flow is a state of consuming immersion, in the most positive sense of the phrase. People in flow are so engaged, motivated, and focused on their task that they lose track of time and their surroundings. Their attention is absorbed in whatever they are doing. You can imagine that flow is a state that is desirable in students, and it often results in academic gains, if maintained over time. Teachers stand on their proverbial heads to create the conditions for flow to occur in their classrooms. My article was about the flow that my students attained when writing, and how I fostered that engagement.

Since every thoughtful teacher is also a student, I have used flow to my advantage during my own professional life, and before that, as a student. When studying in graduate school, I learned about the famous psychologist who put a name to the state in which I often found myself (and also the state that our family witnessed my father exhibit, when he was “inventing.”)

As last year came to a close, I realized that the political scene in the US would be especially consuming. I knew that I would over-consume, and I am guessing many of us have found ourselves in that same situation since the election. Though I confess to still watching the daily updates and listening to podcasts that give a play-by-play of the machinations of those politicians wielding power currently, I did plan a few activities for the new year that I hoped would extend a skill that I wanted to develop, and that would put me in a state of flow.

One of these activities was a resolution to write at least 400 words per day of my own writing – this time, unrelated to my precessional activities or job. I decided to write in a genre that is a bit out of my comfort zone, so I would have to pay extra attention to the craft itself. I decided to write a novel.

While I often write model narratives while teaching my third graders, and while it is my task to assist students in learning how to write a narrative, I was afraid that my novel would turn out to be the best ever novel intended for an adult audience, but which sounded just like a juvenile or young-adult chapter book. I stuffed that concern deep down, and started to write in January.

While I didn’t always write 400 words a day – and sometimes I skipped a day or two – by the end of January, I had written 10,000 words of a novel. Maybe a bad novel, but definitely the start of a novel. One thing I hoped would happen during that month of writing, did happen. While writing, or planning for the next session of writing, or reading friends’ feedback about my draft, or reading books about how to write narratives, I found myself in a state of flow. I didn’t think about my surroundings, or politics.

I have continued to write through February and March, though not always every day, and not quite as many words as I had hoped. But steadily. The combination of creating, and doing something very new had helped me maintain my mental health, which itself has made the project a worthwhile resolution.

Since learning about flow, and especially since writing my article about it, I have recognized that there are many instances of flow in the Bible, and also in Christian worship. Prayer can be a state of flow. Singing in worship and in practice for worship can also create a focused engagement that pushes out all other thoughts. Moses himself likely entered the human state of flow on Mount Sinai, and Jesus when he was in the desert; and the state of flow may be in play, in many other situations described in scripture.

Spirituality and flow are overlapping ideas. They combine to help us to remember to focus our attention on God, and how to plan for action to help our neighbors. May we all experience God’s gift of flow during Lent, and beyond.

-Kristin Murphy

“As for the things that you have learned and received and heard and noticed in me, do them, and the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:9)

We pray for the hungry,
And then we feed them.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the lonely,
And then we enter into their lives.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the naked,
And then we clothe them.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the stranger,
And then we welcome them.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the despairing,
And then we give them hope.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the grieving,
And then we comfort them.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for an end to gun violence,
And then we admit that we are a soul-sick people;
We repent of our colossal failure to value life;
We stop making excuses;
We demand that we change hearts and minds,
And we act.
That’s how prayer works.

(-Rev. Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox, a Lutheran pastor, May 2022)

-submitted anonymously

Our family had (another) loss a couple of years ago: our 8-year-old dog, named Magic by our youngster, when she joined us as a puppy. Magic started seeming off… and after a few attempts at home remedies, I took her to the vet.

Turned out, she had cancer, and I wasn’t given much to hope for in regards to surgical cure, like our first that had a tumor.

So, we had her on medication for a while, and her appetite got better and she had a lift to her step again. I started to feel “cure” thoughts… logically, I knew it wasn’t possible.

Then, again, suddenly she wasn’t eating. We said a sad goodbye, thankful for the extra months, but unhappy about lost years.

I have never felt the slightest desire to have a home without a dog. The house feels brighter when I am met at the door, by a happy, tongued smile and waggy tail.

She was the third one we’d lost earlier than expected, though, and I had been thinking that the next time around, years off, I’d get a service dog. My balance isn’t wonderful, but I’d like to get into a routine that walking outdoors with a dog and a stabilizer could provide… a little happier than just my walker!

So, as a compromise, I suggested an older dog, since I’d already seen what puppies do three times, along with the experience of doing most of the cleaning myself.

Greg and Ayden said puppy.

And, we found Patches at the Sterling Shelter. Patches became Benny, at Ayden’s prompting, and I became Drill Sergeant (the folks in the house that move quicker are slower at noticing the need) and cleaner. We got a crate and a book, and started crate training.

Benny made it clear… my lap was the place he found contentment. And if he couldn’t be content, he could chew. Anything at all. Something different every time.

So, me taking a shower was a training time. Eating dinner was a training time. It took a lot longer than the book said, but Benny has recently been allowed to be alone in the house while roaming freely, and all electrical cords are bite free.

Thank the Good Lord, I say! I come home and get a happy smile at the door and a wiggling guy to pet, and the house feels brighter!

It takes time, especially in the dark, but the brightness gets here!

-Cindi Bockweg

Last fall, I spent 24 hours on a silent retreat at Rolling Ridge in Andover, Massachusetts. The hardest thing about going on a silent retreat is being silent. People get annoyed when you don’t verbalize your response to their “hello!” or answer their friendly overtures. And it’s hard to maintain the silence when you need or want something. Being silent is an anomaly. Yet, while socially it may seem odd, privately there is great awareness on a silent retreat. Our senses are all heightened, particularly the senses of sound and sight. We listen more attentively and notice more.

Since I wanted this silent retreat to be different from others, I intentionally chose to walk paths I hadn’t investigated, but still wanted to “check in” on the familiar.

On my last visit to Rolling Ridge in May, a bald eagle caught my attention (as well as the attention of others). She had a nest in the canopy of a tall pine tree. While it was high in the tree, it could be seen from one of the bedroom windows in the main house. So, after the noon meal, a companion and I went to investigate. We saw the mother eagle bringing food to her baby, and barely glimpsed the eaglet’s head. It seemed the eaglet just needed a little coaxing, a little confidence, someone who believed in it, to take the step to fly. I heard myself say, “Fly, little eaglet, fly.” My friend, knowing I was trying to make an important decision, wisely commented, “Do you hear yourself?”

So, when I returned to the retreat center last fall, I visited the site where the eagle’s nest had been. Looking up from every angle, I silently searched for the nest. It was gone. There was no sign of it having ever been there, ever. There was no tangible evidence of my epiphany just a few months prior. For me, the decision that had caused so much, too much, consternation had been made. There was no going back. “Fly, little eaglet, fly.” You may fall, or you may soar, but you won’t know unless you try.

-Rev. Leigh Goodrich

[Editor’s Note: this Lenten devotion is written by Kimberly Smith, who is our Kristen Straub’s sister. Readers of previous years’ online Lenten devotions will recognize the story Ms. Smith is telling — but this year it’s from a new perspective…]

In my husband’s work office hangs a large black metal sign with the words TRUST THE PROCESS boldly stamped in it. It is a Christmas gift we custom made for our son Ryan. At the time, Ryan was suffering from leukemia. Little did we know that Ryan would never be able to hang the sign in his college room. He died three months later.

TRUST THE PROCESS was originally coined by a former general manager of the NBA’s Philadelphia 76ers. It was his slogan for his plan to carefully rebuild the team. While many criticized the strategy, his motto morphed into a mindset of having faith in a long-term plan despite the challenges and setbacks of a short-term journey.

After being diagnosed with leukemia, Ryan used TRUST THE PROCESS as his mindset. He endured brutal treatments, spent weeks in the ICU; and then COVID hit. While Ryan waited for his transplant in isolation, God laid a verse on his heart.

Ryan’s Instagram story reads, “My life had been completely flipped upside down, and I was lost. I took so much pride to better myself as a basketball player and getting that taken away has been extremely difficult. The verse that stands out to me is Isaiah 30:21: ‘Whether you turn to the right or the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, this is the way, walk in it.’ It has been hard to accept that this is the way God has set for me, but embracing it releases all the doubt I have.”

Ryan eventually received a stem cell transplant. However, seven months into Ryan’s recovery, he relapsed. His post read, “Trust the process. I did it once. What’s one more time? Embracing the struggle and falling in love with the process. And of course, trusting God.”

In Ryan’s darkest moments, God prepared him. God taught Ryan, and God built his character as Ryan faithfully abided in Him. Ryan learned how to patiently accept his journey, embrace the ugliness, and trust the process of God’s plan.

Time and time again, we meet people in the Bible who God prepared to do His work. Moses, David, and Joseph were men that God asked to “trust the process.” Their stories required decades of challenges, setbacks, isolation, and patience. Author Maribeth Baxter states, “God’s counsel is … Don’t be afraid. Stand still. Watch Him work. Keep quiet.”¹

It is easier to trust the process when we know the outcome. John 5:24 reads, “Very truly I tell you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be judged but has crossed over from death to life.” Trusting the process as a Christian is all about sanctification; being matured in Christ. Hebrews 10:14 reads, “By one sacrifice he has made perfect forever those who are being made holy.”

Pastoral assistant Rayshawn Graves states, “As God’s people placed in the process of sanctification, our heads can be held high in every season, because our final outcome is not in question despite how the present may appear. To ‘trust the process’ is more than an unfulfilled phrase; it’s an unshakable promise. The final outcome of what God produces in His people is secured. Those whom God has justified truly, He will glorify fully.”²

Where are you at in your life right now? Are you feeling impatient, anxious, isolated, or defeated? If so, let TRUST THE PROCESS be your rally cry. Be like Moses, David, Joseph and Ryan. Your faithfulness and patience will produce resilience to accept the setbacks knowing that your final outcome is secure in Jesus Christ!

-Kimberly Smith

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¹“Trust the Process: God’s at Work in Your Lowest Times”, by Rayshawn Graves: www.desiringgod.org/articles/trust-the-process

²“Isolation Giants — Moses, David, Joseph”, by Maribeth Baxter: biblicalwholeness.com/2017/07/10/isolation-giants-moses-david-joseph

My friend Lauren had that look that all teachers know, and yet probably don’t know they’re giving off.

The look said, clearly, “I have five thousand details to deal with and my brain is only letting me deal with one at a time and it’s making me crazy.”

Her job was, simply, to make sure absolutely everything was ready and in place, and that all eventualities were ready to be covered, so that her middle school Jazz Night would go off as planned.

“Music In Our Schools Month” is an invention of the Music Educators National Conference (now known as the National Association for Music Educators) … it’s a designation of the month of March as a time of year “when music education becomes the focus of schools and communities across the nation. The purpose … is to raise awareness of the importance of music education for all children — and to remind citizens that school is where all children should have access to music.  [It’s] an opportunity for music teachers to bring their music programs to the attention of the school and the community, and to display the value that school music brings to students of all ages.”

Which means concerts. Added to the usual slate of winter and spring concerts. Depending on the school system, it can mean one more big concert, or lots and lots of little ones. During school, after school … at school, around town … concerts.

In concept: good.

In practice: crazy-making.

Not that being a music teacher isn’t a little crazy-making anyway. Trust me.

So the look on Lauren’s face, as I arrived at the middle school’s cafetorium earlier this week, said: the crazy-making is well underway.

She took a moment to describe where we all should leave our instruments, and where the bathrooms were (“use the men’s room, not use the boys’ room … the boys’ room is disgusting right now”), and where we could warm up before our part of the performance. Then she continued flying about the room, setting up music stands and microphone booms, answering questions, and deflecting her arriving students to the right places to wait.

The gig I was playing was going to include: three tunes’ worth of performance by Lauren’s All-City Middle School Jazz Ensemble at 6:30pm, followed by the Gerry T. Big Band playing three charts at 7pm. Then the two outfits would combine for one more “mass-jazz-band” song, and the whole thing would wrap up at 7:30, give or take helping the drummer pack up his kit.

I was subbing for one of the Gerry T. saxophones that night. Thanks to the kind suggestion of a music-ed colleague of mine, a year ago I subbed in with the Silvertones Big Band, of Tewksbury … and evidently I failed to screw that gig up, such that they kept asking me back while one of their tenor sax guys recuperated from some medical thing or other. So I’ve played with the Silvertones on and off since then; and one of our trumpet guys (heh! “our” … like I’m a permanent member or something) turned out to be the leader of the Gerry T. Big Band, out of Chelmsford, and a couple months ago wondered, could I sub in for their second alto while he was out of state?

I hadn’t had the chance to play big-band jazz since I was in college, so the answer to all those “can you play?” questions was “YES! and I’ll figure out the details later.”

Meanwhile, the cafetorium was beginning to fill up with music students’ families and friends; the raised stage at the end of the room was filling up with All-City jazz kids (who were very dignified in their mad waving at family and friends), and with Gerry T. Big Band members, who hung out at the cafeteria tables in the back of the room, resplendent in our concert-black outfits.

The two other things we wore included: first, that look that all jazzers have before a gig, that seems to say, “my heart rate is low and my cool factor is high; let’s play this gig and then get paid and go home” (except that the Gerry T. band is a volunteer gig).

But second: a facial expression that recognized the moment. In short — it was one of those moments when we knew we were looking at the grand sweep of time.

Let’s just say that the average age of the Gerry T. Big Band membership is “graybeard”. A few of us are still working 9-to-5 jobs, but it’s mainly a bucnh of retired fellas who clearly have been playing in various pickup and standing jazz groups for decades. Most of us started playing instruments, and jazz music, when we were in school … but that was many Presidential administrations ago.

And we were looking from the back of the cafetorium toward the stage at the front, at a pack of about two dozen fifth- through eighth-graders who had started on their instruments within the last three and a half years. And as they began to play (after my friend Lauren described good audience concert etiquette and made a few other housekeeping announcements), it was clear that this was their introduction to playing jazz.

A lot of them were starting to get it.

And the Gerry T. guys in the back were nodding, when somebody’s improvised solo revealed that they might just have a future in this game … and they were smiling when it all almost went right. Swing is an easy thing to tap your toe to, and to imagine you can play … but doing so is another thing altogether.

We remembered our beginnings, and were thankful — not least to the music teachers like Lauren who put the charts on our stands, and who tried to explain in words what swinging the eighth notes meant.

And then, at 7 o’clock or thereabouts, after Lauren had dismissed her kids to join their families in the audience, we ambled forward, sat down in our places on the floor in front of the raised stage, nodded to Lauren as she joined us with her baritone sax in the front row … and held forth.

It was a Grand Sweep of Time moment.

Saxophone jazzers get to sit in the front row, and therefore the folks in the front row of cafeteria-table seats were about six feet away from my nose as I played through the three swing charts. I was very aware of the young trombonist, still clutching his trombone, sitting with his family, and not letting any of this professional jazz activity out of his sight.

I was also aware that most of the kids in the room were watching Lauren play her sax, and realizing, “oh! … my teacher also PLAYS. …Oh.”

It reminded me of the day when my third-grade class, along with all the other kids at the Happy Hollow School, went down to our gym for a concert by the Wayland High School Jazz Band. My little eight-year-old mind was blown. It was, as I clearly recall thinking, the loudest musical sound I had ever heard live, and there was no amplification. Those trumpets were wailing. If there was a moment when I knew I wanted to be in a band, jazz band, whatever band, it was that moment.

So I was keenly aware that it was very possible that somebody else in that middle-school cafeteria might be having one of those moments.

So, Rob, don’t screw up.

Happily, I don’t think I did; and the Gerry T. band had itself a good night.

And then the two bands combined, and while that was getting set up, I looked to my left and right at Beverly and Dejean (sp.?), the eighth- and sixth-grade alto saxes (respectively) who had joined me in the now-fourteen-seat front row, and said, “thanks for letting me come play with ya.” We introduced ourselves. Beverly asked me how long I’d been playing before I had a chance to ask her; Dejean asked me where I lived.

And then it was time to play. And we did. Together. And then shook hands, got up, and went to put our instruments away.

There was so much perspective in that room, my head was spinning a little bit. Half my brain had been focused on the notes on the page, but the other half was imagining a day down the road when Beverly or Dejean or some of the other middle-school kids might have the same opportunity I’d had: looking backwards down the time tunnel to when somebody else had shone their jazzer light in my direction, and simultaneously looking forward up that tunnel to a day when the observers of that light could turn around and shine it for the next crop of jazz enthusiasts.

That’s how the art form survives.

Meanwhile, as the room was being transformed from a jazz club back into a place for bouncy middle-schoolers to eat lunch the next day … I caught sight of my friend Lauren, as she received the well-wishes and thanks of her jazz-band parents.

Her face had that look that music teachers do get, on occasion, after the gig has gone off as planned … or better … and all that’s left is to say “you’re very welcome”.

There was light in it; light that hadn’t been there when the goal was to make sure all the details were covered.

There was light coming from it. Some of the light was reflected from what the parents were shining toward her. And some of the light was hers.

Having been in that place myself, I empathized completely. And I was very happy for her. And not just because the gig was complete and the crash at home was in sight.

All those music teachers work awfully hard to get to that moment … work awfully hard to set up a moment when the light can seemingly spontaneously shine.

It’s just good when they get to enjoy the light themselves.

-Rob Hammerton

“I’m not writing a Lent blog post. I don’t have time. I have a new baby. I’m on no sleep. The house is a mess and I have pump parts to wash!”

These were a few of my many excuses this year. I don’t think I wrote a post last year, so I suppose I had some good excuses then, too.

But I started reading a few posts — in the morning between bites of breakfast, early in the AM while sitting up with my little guy, and just now while rocking him to sleep for a nap. The posts from my friends at SUMC have brought me real comfort, hope, and peace. Each one has added a little more spiritual energy, wisdom, or brightness to my day. I’ve felt more connected, at a time when I’ve been pretty isolated and not exactly spiritually engaged.

And I thought… wouldn’t it be sad if no one had taken the time to write these posts, if everyone kept their light to themselves. They all probably could have come up with a whole host of excuses, too. So, what’s my excuse?

I’d like to share my gratitude for my SUMC family and share a memory of a friend who helped me find my way to God.

I met Kelsey when I lived in Carrboro, North Carolina and was in the midst of those difficult early-twenties years when some of us just don’t know where we’re headed or why. I wasn’t super spiritual then, but I was seeking … guidance, connection, hope, something bigger than me.

Kelsey was reserved and hung out with a group of people who were sort of hipster and cool and standoffish, so I didn’t imagine she would be a source of light for me. But the minute she started talking about God, those thoughts dissipated.

I can’t remember exactly what she said, but when she spoke about God, her eyes lit up in a way that showed her passion and you knew right away she meant everything she said. She was real and she loved God.

I looked at her with awe. I wanted to be like her; I wanted to have that zeal. Her quiet energy sparked a light in me at a time when I was much more accustomed to darkness than to anything bright. Her example encouraged me to get up and start walking my path, seeking God in my life, and taking steps to meet other people who wanted God in their lives, too.

Maybe her example was so powerful because she was one of the “cool kids” … maybe she just said the right things at the right time for me (you know, one of those kairos opportunities) … maybe she was an angel sent to me by God.

When I think back to all the situations and circumstances that helped me cultivate a stronger spiritual life, I always think of her and the light that burst forth when she spoke of the Spirit. Wouldn’t it be sad if she kept all that to herself?

I tend to keep a lot to myself. I am not the bright witness I would like to be. We aren’t all extroverts, I say, but… Kelsey wasn’t, either. Maybe this is a small start.

I am grateful that God gives us the willingness to share our experiences and our light even when we are busy, tired, and full of excuses.

Thanks be to God.

-Kate Moser

“Simply shine your light on the road ahead, and you are helping others to see their way out of darkness.” -Katrina Mayer, author

“Be aware that who you are and what you have to offer can be a beacon to some lost soul.” -Iyanla Vanzant, motivational speaker

“As we work to create light for others, we naturally light our own way.” -Mary Anne Radmacher, author

“Do not allow others to diminish your light due to their own fears and insecurities. Instead, let your light shine so brightly that you illuminate a pathway for others to find their way out of the darkness!” -Dr. Stacey A. Maxwell, motivational speaker

-submitted anonymously

A few months ago, a doctor’s office called and set me up with an appointment. I did not question why I needed an appointment, because I remembered the young lady doctor who looked like a California movie star.

When I arrived in Framingham for the appointment, the lady receptionist did not know why they had set up the appointment. She also said that I was too old to have the procedure. She also said that the young lady doctor was no longer with them!

After a few moments of that news setting in and me not significantly responding, she was surprised and asked me why I was not upset and screaming at them like most people did in a similar situation.

I simply quietly said: “I am a sinner saved by Christ.” The lady instantly and enthusiastically said: “I want to go to your church!”

Well, I have not as yet seen the receptionist at SUMC; but I am sure that our King, our Lord, is working with her as he is with me.

-John McKinney

Four years ago, I lost a good friend and colleague. He and his wife had been close friends of ours for over 30 years. We raised our children together, and got together at least once a month for cards and socialization.

The church organized a food tree, and I participated. My mother was a first-generation Italian American and I was taught when in doubt, make lasagna.

I called the family and told them I would be dropping off the lasagna, right out of the oven; and they were amenable.

It was a rainy day, and I decided to park in the driveway instead of the visitor parking. They lived in a row of senior-living connected town houses.

When I got to their house the door was open. I rang the doorbell, but no one answered. Thinking they had stepped out for a minute, I went in and placed the lasagna in the refrigerator and left.

When I got home, I called to let them know that I had dropped off the lasagna. They looked in the refrigerator and said there was no lasagna.

At the same time, their doorbell rang, and their next-door neighbor appeared with a dish of lasagna, and said it had just appeared in their refrigerator, and did they know anything about it?

We all shared a good laugh, and the neighbor stayed for dinner.

Whenever we reminisce about our good friend, the lasagna story always comes up and always sheds a little light in the darkness.

-Dave Jacob

“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:25)

“For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.” (Ephesians 2:10)

Rest: what a wonderful gift, yet it can only be given if we are willing to receive it. We are all overwhelmed daily with so much to do, errands, caretaking, excessive chores, checking in with those we care about, keeping up with this ever-changing world, and then praying (a lot). What does it take to get some rest?

During Lent, we are called to give up something for 40 days — to show solidarity with, and try to understand better, what Jesus went through during those days of temptation in the wilderness. Each year, for some reason, it is a struggle to determine what I can do that shows my willingness to put God first, by giving up something I love or adding extra time worshiping God. Chocolate used to be my go-to sacrifice for many years; then, after spending more time in Bible Studies and with my church community, I knew I needed to find something a little more substantial to relinquish. (Plus, by getting older and suffering more with reflux I kind of limited my chocolate intake anyway, so it would have kind of been cheating to use that again!)

However, while looking at my busy life, I realized what I really wanted to give up was something that would add more rest to my day. My “get away from the world” preference was currently my iPad. I could dive in for hours, playing one game or another, doing the daily NYT puzzles, looking at information on Instagram or Facebook, shopping, and always ignoring all the items on my list that I really needed to get to but kept putting off. I also ended up running short of prayer time, but then figured I could rush to get it done just before bedtime. This was my escape from reality, my way of “resting” from all the pressures and requirements, and I realized that this was what I needed to give up!

As fun (and mind-numbing) as it was, I realized I was wasting the time I needed, to be properly doing the work God put me on this earth for — versus relying on “Merge Mansions” or “Hay Day” to find purpose and comfort. I needed to give up the easy escape, and face the comfort of being with others, getting things done, and realizing how important being in the wilderness of life is to being close to God. As with Jesus, we find many temptations in the world; and remembering to put God first is the best gift we can give ourselves.

It is now a week into Lent, and I feel better. Not just about my decision, but by having accomplished a few things I would have previously felt too overwhelmed to do. I have been scheduling more time with friends, spending many more moments reading scripture and finding a bit of peace, as I make my way through this crazy wilderness. When I am tempted to “doomscroll” or “Wordle”, I catch myself and head to the Bible App or just text a friend. I am praying that I learn to keep this feeling and always remember how much rest I receive by just being with God.

-Jen Rockwell

I kept the lights on the tiny bush alongside the driveway this year.

Usually, all of the lights and decorations from Christmas come down immediately after the last day of Christmas. I can be a bit of a legalist about taking them down. It’s always a firm rule.

But this year, I decided to keep the lights on one diminutive bush that marks the driveway entrance. Thanks to the gift of itsy-bitsy solar panels, the lights don’t sap the electricity from the grid or drive up the electric bill. All day long those panels absorb what little sunshine there is, waiting for night to fall. When the sun sets, just a tiny amount of energy enlivens twinkling lights around a sweet little shrub, all through the dark night.

Sometimes darkness moves in, enveloping us like a heavy blanket, and all we can see is the undoing of every good thing we have known or done. We watch as institutions that are dear begin to crumble, or fear the dystopia we have begun to manufacture in our minds. That is the time to remember that the thing we most fear losing is that which we love, and that love is what makes us truly human. It makes us honest, compassionate and truth seeking. It means we are real and true and feeling humans.

During those dark times, I look for the people who shine light. Saint Matthew understood the importance of light.

“Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16)

So, when I am in the dark, I have learned to look for the tiny pinpricks of light all around. It’s amazing how those tiny bulbs wrapped around a small evergreen in my front yard fill the cold darkness. Those infinitesimal lights dancing around a conical shrub are a joyful welcome home.

Silly? Sure. They make me smile. They signal home and hope. From Christmastide to Lent and beyond.

Look for the ones who shine their light. Shine your own light. Look for the light!

-Leigh Goodrich

“And we urge you, brothers and sisters, warn those who are idle and disruptive, encourage the disheartened, help the weak, be patient with everyone.” (1 Thessalonians 5:14)

“⁹Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: ¹⁰If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. … ¹²Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, 12)

I’m going to guess that this will be the first piece of Lenten-season writing to feature the musical comedy “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels”.

After all, it’s a show based on a movie of the same name, which itself is a remake of a previous movie — all of which are about con artists. The characters in this show are people who actively work to swindle people out of their money — in order to make their own living! Name a teaching of Jesus, and these con artists probably violate it.

But I’m not writing about these characters. Rather, I’m thinking of the young people who brought them to life last weekend, at Maynard High School, during their spring musical show. I’m thinking about the sense of community that they developed, and displayed … and about how they carried their light into the world in a way that transcended merely Showing An Audience A Good Time.

Tech week is the stretch of five or six days during which anyone involved with putting on a stage production immerses themselves into it, to the probable detriment of family time, proper amounts of sleep, the doing of homework, all that important stuff. And some time during Maynard High School’s “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” tech week, it was revealed that the young actor who was to portray one of the show’s three major roles (the one John Lithgow originally played on Broadway, so, arguably the lead role) … had come down with the flu. Not the stomach variety, which for lots of reasons was okay; but instead, the kind that gets into the inner ear and provides hours of fun with dizziness and nausea.

Not helpful when you’re within 48 hours of opening night. And especially disappointing when you’re a senior and it’s your final high school show.

And, since this was a high school production, and not actually on Broadway, there were really no such things as understudies — cast members whose whose job it is to prepare for their roles but also for one or two more major roles, so that they could step in, in case of an emergency (and disappoint audience members who had paid lots of money to come see This Specific Famous Actor play the role).

What to do?

There wasn’t much that I could do, apart from offering good hopeful thoughts and praying real hard for a Lenten miracle by opening night Friday. I was a mere pit orchestra member. But in that role, I could observe. And man!… was there stuff to observe.

I arrived at the school’s auditorium late on Friday afternoon — to discover that for the previous hour and a half, or two, the stage director, music director (whom I believe you are familiar with), and three other student cast members had been hard at work. The kids were helping each other to flash-learn as much choreography, song content, and dialogue as possible — just in case our stricken actor, Will, was unable to perform. We were informed that he was going to try his best.

So, at the very least, a whole lot of people — cast, crew, pit, professional helpers — were going to have their attention divided between doing their thing, whatever it was, and keeping an eye on Will to see if he was about to tip over.

He made it about halfway through the first act before the dizziness apparently got to him. At which point, the backup plan went into effect:

Midway through Act I, cast member Austin came onstage dressed as the lead role, script in hand, and ably covered the part… until, to my utter surprise from my pit orchestra perch, flu-ridden Will reappeared and sang the Act 1 finale. A triumphant return? A miracle recovery?

Short-lived, as it turned out. So, throughout Act II, cast member Kendall stepped onstage and performed the lead role, script sometimes in her hand and sometimes not! And she executed the songs’ choreography and lip-synced their lyrics, while Will sang them from the safety of an offstage chair.

Afterward, I said, I was pleased that music director Kevin had gotten me onboard to play in the pit, in the first place — because as great a story as this may be to read … trust me, it was remarkable to see it unfold live.

The next night (show #2 of 3), Will was entirely indisposed. So Kendall covered his part … while the show’s assistant stage director Evelyn (a recent Maynard High School alum) covered Kendall’s part.

And at the Sunday afternoon matinee, while Will performed most of the role, there was one short stretch of Act I during which Kendall returned to the lead role. By that time, my pit colleagues and I had moved past our initial mouth-agape astonishment at the merry-go-round of “show-must-go-on” role-swapping, and now were in the territory of “oh, okay, so that’s how they’re going to make it work this this time.”

Did I mention that none of these adaptable, flexible, willing student understudies were seniors? Kendall was a junior; Austin was a freshman, are you kidding me?

Before each performance, the stage director (herself also a fairly recent Maynard High School alum) made an announcement that alerted the audience to the various role-playing opportunities.

This achieved two things: first, it kept the audience from being distracted from the story or confused about who they were seeing on stage, so they could probably enjoy the show.

Second, and more importantly, it allowed the audience to root extra-hard for everybody involved — flu-affected Will, last-minute helpers Kendall and Austin — and in my lifetime of experience in school and community musical theater, I have never felt an energy quite like the energy that was in that room. It was being passed back and forth from stage to seats and back.

Kendall and Austin and Evelyn — and everyone else in the cast and crew who were sending good vibes in Will’s and Kendall’s and Austin’s and Evelyn’s direction — were putting on a whale of a show, regardless.

The audiences (including the one Friday night, which had been expected to be much smaller than usual because of a sudden athletic playoff game being held down the hall but somehow wasn’t, and, y’know, priorities) responded with an enthusiasm that can only happen when stuff that could have been going off the rails clearly was not.

And the cast onstage, to my eye, was clearly feeding off that returned energy.

“Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” may not exactly be “South Pacific” or “West Side Story”. It did not win a Pulitzer, and its single Tony award went to the other lead actor, not John Lithgow. Some of its songs are catchy enough to hum afterward; most are not really.

It’s a fluffy story, without a feel-good, heartwarming, uplifting moral at the end. It’s about a set of characters who, as the director’s pre-show talk notes, are for the very most part not good people. Famously, it is NOT for children; and some of its jokes and characters’ actions have NOT aged well even since its premiere twenty years ago, never mind since the original Steve Martin/Michael Caine movie was made in the late 1980s.

But it has risen to the level, perhaps temporarily but still undeniably, of being one of my favorite musicals — because of the people who carried it off. And who, in doing so, carried their light into the world.

And who entertained their audiences well enough that their audiences reflected that light straight back at ’em.

And the light ricocheted around the room; and I would not be surprised if at least some of those people — cast, crew, audience — were still glowing a little bit, all this time later.

Everybody had everybody else’s back.

‘Twould be nice if that were a much more widespread thing, in our world, at the moment.

Nice to know, though, that it can happen somewhere … even in a relatively small way, in a relatively small venue … and comforting to think that maybe some kind of cliched but still-meaningful “pay it forward” effect can be achieved.

May it be so.

-Rob Hammerton

As I pondered my daughter’s next life adventure — college graduation this Spring and an anticipated relocation to Austin, Texas this summer — I wanted to write her a letter.

As I did, I realized that my words are words any of us might share with our children as they take their next steps in life’s journey. This is what I wrote:

“As you step into this exciting new chapter of your life, I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you. Graduating a year early is no small feat; and now, as you set out for Austin, ready to put down new roots, my heart is bursting with love, excitement, and all the hope in the world for you.

“This is your time to explore, to build, to grow — both in the fields you cultivate and in the life you are creating. Chase your dreams with confidence, work hard, and remember that joy is just as important as effort. The world needs your kindness, your creativity, and your passion for plants and sustainable farming. Let that passion guide you and let your light shine brightly in all you do.

“In the midst of all your adventures, always remember where you come from. Your roots are deep, planted in love and faith. No matter how far you go from Stow, you will always have a home to return to — both in the hearts of those who love you and in God’s unconditional presence.

“Life will bring challenges, but you don’t have to navigate them alone. Lean on those who support you. Build friendships, find a community, and never be afraid to ask for help. Be kind — to others and to yourself. Give generously, listen deeply, rest in God’s peace, and remember that a little laughter (and maybe some quiet time in the warm Texas sun watching the clouds above) can work wonders.

“Save wisely, but don’t be afraid to give to those less fortunate than you. Keep life simple — don’t get caught up in ‘stuff.’ The most beautiful things in life are the ones that grow, whether they’re flowers, friendships, or dreams.

“Most of all, know that you are never alone. God is always near, ready to guide, strengthen, and comfort you. Dad, Julia, and I are always here for you, too. Respond to my texts (at least sometimes!), come home to visit, and never forget that it’s okay to cry when you need to. Life is meant to be lived with an open heart.

“Go plant, grow, and bloom, my sweet girl. I can’t wait to see the beauty you bring into the world.”

This season of Lent reminds us that Jesus came as the Light of the World, and He calls us to carry that light forward. Wherever we go — into new places, new challenges, or new opportunities — we have the chance to shine His love, to bring hope, and to reflect His goodness.

Reflection: Where is God calling you to shine His light? How can you bring His love, kindness, and hope to those around you?

Prayer: Dear Lord, Thank You for the gift of new beginnings and the opportunities you place before us. As we step into the next chapters of our lives, help us to walk with faith, trusting that you are always by our side. May we be rooted in your love and grace. Help us to shine brightly in a world that longs for your presence. May we be beacons of hope, generosity, and faith, reflecting your light to everyone we meet. Amen.

-Kristen Straub

“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:14-16)

I was born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland. I grew up being a fan of Brooks Robinson and the Orioles, and Johnny Unitas and the Colts (the Baltimore Colts, that is). At age fourteen, I entered the all-male Baltimore Polytechnic Institute as a freshman.

“Poly” was one of the highest ranked high schools in the United States at that time. This was a magnet high school attracting students from all over Baltimore City and its surrounding counties. We specialized in math and science before the term “STEM” was coined.

We studied analytic geometry, calculus, and thermodynamics. Over the four-year program, students were grouped together in classes according to their academic achievements. The top achievers were placed in the “A-course.” Needless to say, those of us in the A-course were a bunch of cocky, arrogant young men. Straight A grades were not only common among us, they were expected.

In the fall of 1962, we entered our junior year English class and met our new teacher, Karl Yount. The semester progressed, and we reached the first grading period. When we received our English grades, we did not see our customary, and expected, As. Some did not even receive Bs. We looked at each other and thought, “What’s up with this?” Some were even indignant and complained, “This is not fair!”

Well, Mr. Yount had gotten our attention. We began to listen intently to him, not just to learn about the works of Sir Walter Scott and Charles Dickens, but also to understand what he was trying to do with us. As the year went on and we became more comfortable with each other, student with teacher and teacher with student, Mr. Yount shared with us difficult life experiences that he had had and his awakening to the presence of God which had enabled him to overcome those difficulties.

He was not satisfied to come to school each day just to teach us from a prescribed syllabus. He wanted to reach into our hearts and to teach us about life, how to be self-reflective, and to understand why we were privileged to live on this earth. Sixty-three years later, I still think about Mr. Yount and the powerful model he set for us.

Mr. Yount could have taken the easy road –- showing up each day at school and reciting previously written lesson plans. Instead, he came to school each day thinking about how he could help a group of cocky young men find humility, meaning, and purpose in their lives.

Karl Yount fostered a bright light that shined for hundreds of young men over his long career as an English teacher. I am grateful that I was one of the blessed recipients of his light.

Dear Lord, thank you for sending people into our lives who shine your light so brightly. Please help us to shine your light through us to help others. Amen.

-Trey Burns

From a speech by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on August 16, 1967, in Atlanta, GA:

“And the other thing is, I’m concerned about a better world. I’m concerned about justice; I’m concerned about brotherhood; I’m concerned about truth.

“And when one is concerned about that, he can never advocate violence.

“For through violence you may murder a murderer, but you can’t murder murder.

“Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can’t establish truth.

“Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can’t murder hate through violence.

“Darkness cannot put out darkness; only light can do that.”

-submitted anonymously

[Ed. Note: here’s a response to one of this year’s Lenten writing prompts, “I need to have patience about…”]

I need to have patience about my political discussions with dear friends with whom I disagree.

Like many, I have been appalled about the state of our country’s politics and have vociferously expressed my opinions to my friends and others. Some of my friends who disagree with my choice have, out of respect for our friendship, remained quiet — figuring it is a waste of time to have a meaningful discussion.

Recently, I was at a social gathering with just such a friend and we were having a one-on-one discussion with the state of our families, retirement possibilities, and in general just catching up. For some reason, I asked him who he voted for and was surprised at his choice.

I was embarrassed that I didn’t know this because I never gave him a chance to offer his opinion.

We had a very important discussion about our opinions in an appropriate manner; and although we couldn’t agree about the choices we made, we could agree about many related political things and why we thought what we thought.

It was an education for me and although we still differ in our political choice, we both want to see the country back in a better place.

I apologized to him for not respecting his opinions and thanked him for his long friendship and now feel we can have a path forward and can discuss our differences in a meaningful way.

-Dave Jacob

God designed us for connection. From the earliest days of the church, believers gathered together to share their experiences and support one another. Acts 2:42 tells us, “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” This early Christian community was a source of strength, encouragement, and spiritual growth.

When we walk in fellowship with one another, we reflect the love of Christ. Jesus said in Matthew 18:20, “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” Just as a single candle gives light, but many candles together illuminate a whole room, our faith shines brighter when we are united. Community brings warmth to our souls, much like a fire on a cold night. Without connection, our hearts can grow weary, but with others beside us, we find renewal and joy. We all need to feel these emotions, especially as we’re losing hope in humanity.

The pandemic disrupted our sense of community, forcing us into isolation and distance. We felt disconnected from our churches, our families, our friends, our classmates, and even our neighbors. We’ve been trying to rebuild, rekindle relationships, and find a renewed sense of community. Hebrews 10:24-25 urges us, “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another.” We are called to reconnect —- not just within our churches, but in our families, our friendships, and even with strangers who need to feel Jesus’s love.

As we grow together, we become a city on a hill, shining God’s light for all to see (Matthew 5:14). May we seek to build strong, loving communities that reflect the warmth and radiance of Christ’s love. Now is the time to step forward in faith, to reconnect, and to be the light that brings hope to a world in need.

How can you be a light in someone’s life? Are you casting a shadow on your own life in some way? Can you help push someone else’s shadow away? Is your light refracting in ways that you never expected?

I’m trying to help my light shine brighter in this world … in a variety of ways … through smiles and personal devotion, by expressing my concerns for the vulnerable, by investing my energy in meaningful things that bring me joy, by letting go of the things I don’t enjoy, in helping friends and neighbors in difficult times, and by praying instead of judging. Take a moment today and seek connection. No doubt, you’ll feel the warmth of God’s grace, and others will too.

Thank you, Lord, for human connections and for our power to build strong communities. Help us to bring light into this world by seeking and creating loving and compassionate communities. This is what Jesus wants us to do. It’s hard sometimes … please give us strength and endurance. Amen.

-Kristen Straub

Have you ever not been listened to by a spouse, one of your children, or a co-worker? How did that feel? Have you ever not given your full attention when someone was talking to you? How do you think God must feel when we don’t listen to his whispers or nudges?

Do we truly take the time to listen? There is so much noise, action, and business in our lives and the world around us that we don’t often or purposely set aside time to listen to each other and to God. Psalm 46:10 says “Be still and know that I am God.” Listen for me!

I like to think that I have “a supply” of listening ability that might help someone who is hurting. I learned about listening when I was a Stephen Minister at Sudbury UMC. You can’t solve other’s problems or tell them what they should do; but by listening to their concerns, you can help them see a new perspective or provide comfort.

Now I must admit that I never thought much about God speaking to me personally. I have at times had thoughts and wondered if these thoughts were what I personally believed would be good for myself, my family, or my faith community, or whether they were promptings from God. But lately I’ve been thinking more about the idea that God does speak to us today. Looking back on my life, I do see how certain events and circumstances might just have been whispers from God that led me in a certain direction.

Our God is a communicating God. God spoke to Samuel, Moses, Elijah, and many other Biblical people. And they listened. Elijah did not experience God in the earthquake, wind or fire but in a still small voice (as in 1 Kings 19:11-15). You may not experience God with a loud bang, but you can listen for what He may be saying to you.

How do we carry God’s light into the world? First, we must enter God’s presence purposely and often. We do so through worship, prayer, reading scripture and devotions and Christian fellowship. Then we can listen for God’s whispers and respond. Are you being called to respond? Can you use your time and talents to work on an outreach project, share your faith, bring a meal to someone who is ill, teach or mentor a child or youth, or do some other act that brings hope and compassion to another?

I encourage you to listen for God’s still small voice. Let God guide you. Respond in love.

-Nancy Sweeney
(SUMC member, 1973-2016; now living in Plymouth, MA, and attending a UCC Church)

Historically, the stereotypical impression of the season of Lent has been all “sackcloth and ashes”, fasting and self-denial and a general sense of gloom. All in the service of making sure the explosion of Easter is properly joyous, I suppose.

When I was but a wee high-school-sophomore bass singer in Sudbury UMC’s Sanctuary Choir, I felt like the majority of the music we sang was in the key of D minor and was the musical equivalent of grey. It probably wasn’t entirely true; but that’s the way it struck me.

Fast-forward forty-three years and our world is in turmoil, for various reasons, and is bracing itself for what will likely be very difficult times … times which, at best, may seem very grey, too.

So what in the world does your humble LentBlog editor think he’s doing, suggesting that the overarching theme of this year’s Sudbury UMC Lenten devotions can be “Carrying Our Light Into the World”? Is he a hopeless Pollyanna type who would rather not deal with the world as it is?

Well, he’s not content merely to curse the darkness, as the saying goes, but to light a candle. That’s what he thinks he’s doing.

A couple of months ago, as the excitement and wonder of the Advent and Christmas season yielded to January and the depths of the New England winter … and as our country moved into a new and (to say the least) uncertain era … I remember thinking, “well … our purpose now, more than ever, is to be an outpost of empathy and compassion.” In the spirit of Theodore Roosevelt, I thought: “we can only do what we can, with what we have, where we are.” We’ll need to do all the good we can, by all the means we can, in the all the ways we can, etc. etc — even if scholars now insist that this quote is only attributed to John Wesley, that he didn’t actually say it himself really. Party poopers.

So…

The focus of the majority of the “writing prompts” that we’ve assembled, to help members and friends of the Sudbury UMC congregation come up with pieces of Lenten devotional writing, this year (which you can find by visiting Sudbury UMC’s website, sudbury-umc.org) … can be boiled down to: doing something good for others.

Not overtly saving the world, swooping in like a Marvel Comics superhero. Most of us are not in a position to rescue a whole agency, or an institution, or a Constitution. Most of us cannot individually reverse the spin of the planet, like Christopher Reeve’s Superman, or roll back the march of climate change with a single act.

What can we do?

If it’s only small things … then small things it shall be.

Small things are better than no things. And, so often, a small kindness can have far-reaching effects. And even if it doesn’t — even if it only lifts someone up for a moment — one moment of uplift in someone’s life has got to be better than zero moments of uplift.

“Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.” No matter who said that, really.

So, every morning between now and Easter Sunday: a new Lenten Devotion, published exactly where you are reading now. Written by a member or friend of our congregation, doing what they can. Maybe you’ll be inspired to join them in that effort.

It’s something we can do … that we’ve done for many years, here at Sudbury UMC … for each other; and now, thanks to the reach of the Internet, perhaps for others we don’t know (yet).

Perhaps they’ll know we are Christians by our love.

Here we go…

-Rob Hammerton

PART TWO

22 Chorus
Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world. (John 1:29)

23 Air (Alto)
He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. (Isaiah 53:3) He gave His back to the smiters, and His cheeks to them that plucked off His hair: He hid not His face from shame and spitting. (Isaiah 50:6)

24 Chorus
Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows! He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him. (Isaiah 53:4-5)

25 Chorus
And with His stripes we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5)

26 Chorus
All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way. And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6)

27 Accompagnato (Tenor)
All they that see Him laugh Him to scorn; they shoot out their lips, and shake their heads, saying: (Psalm 22:7)

28 Chorus
“He trusted in God that He would deliver Him; let Him deliver Him, if He delight in Him.” (Psalm 22:8)

29 Accompagnato (Tenor)
Thy rebuke hath broken His heart: He is full of heaviness. He looked for some to have pity on Him, but there was no man, neither found He any to comfort him. (Psalm 69:20)

30 Arioso (Tenor)
Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto His sorrow. (Lamentations 1:12)

31 Accompagnato (Soprano or Tenor)
He was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgressions of Thy people was He stricken. (Isaiah 53:8)

32 Air (Soprano or Tenor)
But Thou didst not leave His soul in hell; nor didst Thou suffer Thy Holy One to see corruption. (Psalm 16:10)

33 Chorus
Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory? The Lord strong and mighty, The Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory? The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory. (Psalm 24:7-10)

34 Recitative (Tenor)
Unto which of the angels said He at any time: “Thou art My Son, this day have I begotten Thee?” (Hebrews 1:5)

35 Chorus
Let all the angels of God worship Him. (Hebrews 1:6)

36 Air (Alto or Soprano)
Thou art gone up on high; Thou hast led captivity captive, and received gifts for men; yea, even from Thine enemies, that the Lord God might dwell among them. (Psalm 68:18)

37 Chorus
The Lord gave the word; great was the company of the preachers. (Psalm 68:11)

38 Air (Soprano or Alto) (or Duet and Chorus (Soprano, Alto and Chorus)
How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things. (Isaiah 52:7; Romans 10:15)

39 Chorus (or air for tenor)
Their sound is gone out into all lands, and their words unto the ends of the world. (Romans 10:18; Psalm 19:4)

40 Air (Bass) (or Air and Recitative)
Why do the nations so furiously rage together, and why do the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth rise up, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord, and against His anointed. (Psalm 2:1-2)

41 Chorus
Let us break their bonds asunder, and cast away their yokes from us. (Psalm 2:3)

42 Recitative (Tenor)
He that dwelleth in Heav’n shall laugh them to scorn; The Lord shall have them in derision. (Psalm 2:4)

43 Air (Tenor)
Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel. (Psalm 2:9)

44 Chorus
Hallelujah: for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. (Revelation 19:6) The kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ; and He shall reign for ever and ever. (Revelation 11:15) King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. (Revelation 19:16)

PART THREE

45 Air (Soprano)
I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. (Job 19:25-26) For now is Christ risen from the dead, the first fruits of them that sleep. (1 Corinthians 15:20)

46 Chorus
Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15: 21-22)

47 Accompagnato (Bass)
Behold, I tell you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. (1 Corinthians 15: 51-52)

48 Air (Bass)
The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption and this mortal must put on immortality. (1 Corinthians 15:52-53)

49 Recitative (Alto)
Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” (1 Corinthians 15:54)

50 Duet (Alto & Tenor)
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. (1 Corinthians 15:55-56)

51 Chorus
But thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 15:57)

52 Air (Soprano & Alto)
If God be for us, who can be against us? (Romans 8:31) Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is at the right hand of God, who makes intercession for us. (Romans 8:33-34)

53 Chorus
Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by His blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Blessing and honour, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever. Amen. (Revelation 5:12-14)

---

He is risen! … He is risen indeed!
Happy Easter.

[Editor’s Note: here’s the last of the seven devotions conjured up by our new friend, Dottie Keene; an appropriate one as we head on toward Easter Sunday morning, tomorrow. It’s in response to the writing prompt “When I sing the ‘Hallelujah’ Chorus on Easter, I feel like this…”]

When I sing the “Hallelujah” Chorus on Easter, I feel joyful and hopeful.

It is unfathomable that Jesus went through such horror as a crucifixion, that He knew it was coming and made the sacrifice anyway, that He touched so many lives and helped so many people and set an example of how we were to live. And all I am called on to do in my life isn’t half as dangerous or challenging as all that. Even though I am not perfect, I am in God’s eyes; and will strive to be the best person I can be.

Thank you, God, for showing me the love and support to live my life.

Hallelujah!

-Dottie Keene

“Are you better off than you were four years ago?” … is a question which was first posed some forty years ago, and has re-emerged within the last few weeks, as a political cudgel.

With this phrase, the challenger for high office issues a somewhat clunky rhetorical flourish (as rhetorical flourishes go) which encourages voters to think about whether, under the administration of the incumbent holder of that high office, their lives have improved or not. The challenger implies — certainly hopes that the voter will be inspired to agree — that the answer is “no.”

Amidst all the musical preparations for Easter Sunday morning at Sudbury UMC, I’ve had cause to pause, in the past day or so, and consider that my answer to that “four years ago” question (in a choir context) is a resounding YES.

The year 2020, famously, had become a difficult one by the time Easter Sunday rolled around in early April: no need to explain and re-explain the quiet terror of the COVID-19 pandemic’s first month. Social distancing became a bland euphemism for don’t come near anybody else … which of course put a damper on any kind of gathering for corporate worship. In Sudbury, the Easter Sunday service was carried out by a handful of socially-distant, masked celebrants in the Chancel, and livestreamed out to the world.

It was the first time I had been absent from the Sudbury UMC Sanctuary on an Easter Sunday morning since, oh, probably one of my college years when for some reason I needed to be on campus, and so I joined the congregation of what was, at the time, the Methodist church on North Pleasant Street, not far from the UMass-Amherst campus.

And it was the first time I had not been physically present for an Easter Sunday morning worship service, ever.

It was weird.

The next year, all but a fortunate early few were still weeks away from accepting doses of a COVID-19 vaccine which had been developed remarkably swiftly. So Kevin at the organ and I at the piano offered up the musical content of the day — still masked, still keeping our distance from preacher and liturgist, with no choristers yet, and putting up a double-keyboard rendition of Handel’s “Hallelujah” chorus, with only a glimmer of hope that we would be able to reclaim our previous Easter musical tradition: three-ring circus, cast of thousands.

It was still cautious. Muted. Not exactly the explosion of triumph and joy that the celebration of Easter is supposed to be, yeah?

Fast-forward to the run-up to this coming weekend: let’s just say that amidst all the crazy that historically has been Easter musicians’ lives … in an environment that merits all manner of animal metaphors — having all our ducks in a row, herding the cats, headless chickens — while simultaneously wishing to bring our absolute, rock-solid “A”-game because there might be visitors in the pews who have stopped in to Sudbury Methodist to see if perhaps they might find a church home here, and also I wonder whether they have any kind of a decent music program here?, because I really like to sing tenor…

…amidst all that, it can be difficult to pause and reflect, but I intend to prevail nonetheless in the effort to pause and reflect.

To celebrate the three choir anthems, and the pack of instrumentalists, and the opening hymn procession, and the mass of singers and would-be singers packing the Chancel to sing that folk song that is the “Hallelujah” chorus.

To not take it for granted.

Starred Thought: “How easily it can all slip away.”

And, because today is Good Friday and so joyous bouncy celebration is yet 48 hours away, give or take, one must temper one’s enthusiastic expressions.

But… we’re answering the question “are we better off, Easter-celebration-wise, than we were four years ago?” with … sshhh! …

Hallelujah.

See you Sunday morning.

-Rob Hammerton

[Editor’s Note: Robert Herrick (1591–1674) was an English lyric poet and Anglican cleric. According to his biographer, his literary work’s main thematic message is that life is short, the world is beautiful and love is splendid; Herrick is best known for a poem with the first line “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may”. And yet, he wrote this remarkably forward-thinking poem in 1648 about fasting during Lent.]

To Keep a True Lent

Is this a Fast, to keep
The Larder lean?
And clean
From fat of veals and sheep?

Is it to quit the dish
Of flesh¹, yet still
To fill
The platter high with fish?

Is it to fast an hour,
Or ragg’d go,
Or show
A down-cast look and sour?

No: ’tis a Fast to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat
And meat
Unto the hungry soul.

It is to fast from strife
And old debate,
And hate;
To circumcise thy life.²

To show a heart grief-rent;
To starve thy sin,
Not bin;³
And that’s to keep thy Lent.

NOTES:
¹ “flesh” – meat; many Christians fast from meat on Fridays during Lent but still eat fish, to which the remainder of the stanza alludes.
² Circumcision is often used as a metaphor for spiritual conversion, as in St. Paul’s description of Abraham, who “received the sign of circumcision as a seal of the righteousness that he had by faith while he was still uncircumcised” (Romans 3:11).
³ “bin” – container for storing food.

-submitted anonymously

[Editor’s Note: Another check-in from one of SUMC’s newest friends; again with a response to one of our Lenten Devotion writing prompts: “Here’s a favorite Lent/Easter hymn, and why it’s special to me…”]

“Low in The Grave He Lay”

The song has me singing that Jesus is my Savior, and tells the story of how He gave His life for all people and their sins. There is an especially joyful feeling when we get to the part of singing “up from the grave He arose”.

My father particularly enjoyed singing this with gusto and encouraged his three young daughters to do the same. I knew then that I was truly forgiven: even though I looked like a little angel with my crinoline dress on, white flowered hat and gloves and patent leather shoes … I had opened my pocketbook and spilled out my Easter basket jelly beans onto the wooden floor during the prayer (sigh … OK, I was only five years old).

-Dottie Keene

He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.

Colossians 1:17

We live in changing and seemingly troubling times. It is safe and secure to know that, “For in Him all things were created” [Colossians 1:16]. “If God is for us, who can be against us?” [Romans 8:31]

No one, of course, because we Christians believe that God never leaves us or forsakes us.

Amen.

-Dan Cetrone

[Editor’s Note: You’ll be hearing three more times from the remarkable and prolific Dottie Keene, between here and the end of Lent. Here’s the first of those, a response to one of our Lenten Devotion writing prompts: “The season of Lent is a lean time, but not meant to be a season of famine. It can be a time to ask, ‘What can I store up, so that when the famine comes, I’ll be ready?’ So let me describe something [tangible or not] that [I] have a supply of, which could help those around me who might be hungry or hurting…”]

I seem to have an abundance of “of course, I can” and I believe many of us do.

I have many things, and the time and talents to put them to good use. Why can’t I lend my voice to singing in a terrific church choir? Does a neighbor need a ride to the doctor, or a hearty meal lovingly prepared? How about spending time with someone who is shut in and needs attention and friendship? Can babysitting for grandchildren give my own kids a break and a night off? Will I volunteer to help complete strangers?

Thank you, God, for showing me ways to give of myself with a cheerful heart and be uplifted by the difference it makes.

-Dottie Keene

When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Is it your features that you notice? The eyes, nose, ears, mouth, hair? Is it your state of well-being, a bright healthy glow, flushed skin, pallor? Perhaps you can see your emotions: excitement, happiness, weariness, stress. Many things can be seen in the mirror, but do you ever see the face of God?

The Bible tells us that we are made in the image of God. We are also told to think of ourselves as the hands and feet of God, carrying out God’s will in the world. I think we should add being the face of God to that list. When we interact with others, what expressions do we show? Interest, friendliness, concern, acceptance, empathy? Or perhaps it’s aloofness, disdain, apathy, superiority. I think we all know what God’s face would show. Even at those times when we might not have the “Godly” feelings inside, we can give it a try. After all, studies have shown that smiling when you’re blue can actually make you feel a little better. By trying to reflect God’s face, we can improve our ability to reflect God’s heart.

So, the next time you glance in the mirror, smile! You may not be on Candid Camera, but you are the face of God. So much better!

-Sandy Burns

Flowers speak a special language. They draw our attention and come to us for many different reasons … weddings, funerals, birthdays, and celebrations of all sorts. Flowers deliver thoughtful messages of love, loss, grief, gratefulness, regret, honor, romance, friendship, and surprise. Big or small, bold or delicate, flowers of all kinds speak to me. God has created their beauty on this earth to remind us that He speaks His special language through them. I know that God uses the little buds on the hydrangea plants to tell me that Spring is on its way. He leads me to the flower shop to buy a bouquet of flowers for a friend who needs a pick-me-up. He encourages me to spend quiet time on the hill in my yard where my perennial flowers bloom each summer. He encourages me to use my passion for flowers to serve our church and honor and remember our congregations’ family members and friends.

I love being a part of the church’s Flower Committee. If you sign up to dedicate flowers on a Sunday, I hope you know that the flowers that end up under the large wooden altar cross are a labor of love. Those of us on the Flower Committee put careful consideration and thought into creating a meaningful and lovely arrangement. Keeping in mind any special requests, we think about colors and varieties of flowers, as well as the size of the arrangement and the vessel it’s placed in. We also say little prayers that the flowers we add to the altar on Saturday afternoon won’t be wilted over by Sunday morning! Even if they are, we hope that the altar flowers speak to you and remind you of God’s everlasting love, His grace, and the glory He’s bestowed on this earth.

White and purple calla lilies made a statement in one of my recent flower arrangements. Calla lilies are one of my favorite flowers, and they are known to stand for beauty and commitment. They remind me of God’s protection — the way the single petal gently drapes around the yellow flower (which is called a spadix). It’s like the flower’s velvety trumpet is announcing the Lord’s assurance and love.

I encourage you to truly listen to the ways God speaks to you through flowers, wherever you may encounter them. Isaiah 58:11 reads, “The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.” Amen.

-Kristen Straub

[Editor’s Note: this piece endured some light editing, as it was written on a day somewhat before today. -RGH]

Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you; love her, and she will watch over you. The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom. Though it cost all you have get understanding.

Proverbs 4:6-7

The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son. But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.

Revelation 21:7-8

Folks, a [month] ago today was President’s Day, honoring our first and sixteenth presidents. I was born on Abraham Lincoln’s birthday, February 12. Because of that fact, Lincoln has always been my hero president. It is in that light that I write about something very significant for us to ponder today. I’ve highlighted the part of the last sentence in Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address of November 19, 1863, below.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us,that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion, that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln, from his “Gettysburg Address”

As of Feb. 15, at least 4,994 people have died from gun violence in the U.S. this year, according to the Gun Violence Archive (GVA) – which is an average of about 108 deaths each day. Another 3,351 people have been injured.Of those who have died from gun violence, 147 were teens and 31 were children. Last year, gun violence deaths and injuries decreased by at least 8% compared to 2022, with some cities seeing decreases of more than 20%, according to GVA. There were 43,065 gun deaths in 2023, with more than 36,000 people injured. Gun deaths, excluding suicides, in 2023 were the lowest they had been since 2020. Injuries were the lowest they had been since 2019.

Kiara Alfonseca (ABC News), February 16, 2024

What can we do to “not allow” the 4,994 Americans who “died just this year from gun violence,” to “die in vain?”

For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another. For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

Galatians 5:13-14

I declare, that we all, as Christians, can and are called to do this; share the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ with all!

-Dan Cetrone

[Editor’s Note: Another check-in from one of SUMC’s newest friends; again with a response to one of our Lenten Devotion writing prompts: “Here’s a time in my life when someone did a small thing for me – something which became a big deal…”]

The work manager who had introduced me to my spouse just wrote me a letter; it arrived on the third anniversary of my spouse’s death.

Our manager had just heard that my husband had died, and he shared his memories of stories of how we all were, as a work team, way back when…

Although grief seems still fresh on many days, the smiles and caring in this letter touched my heart and gave me great comfort. Thank you, God, for sending me reminders of love and happiness that came from working as a team.

-Dottie Keene

Jody Avery’s piece some time ago, about caring for her husband Bill during his Alzheimers’s, reminded me of my husband Denis and his years of heart disease.

Denis was “religious” about taking his medicines, and I cooked whatever was low-fat, making it as enticing as possible. I also didn’t buy what he shouldn’t eat, because his assumption was that if it was in the house, it was okay to have.

If there was one thing I could count on, it was Denis’s determination to live a “normal” life. If that meant walking straight up a hill, he would launch forth. Reminding him not to was a sure way to ensure that he would keep going. It is truly remarkable how I “found” such interesting rocks whenever we came to a hill; because, being a “rock hound”, he would always want to see them, seemingly not realizing that we were going across the hill as much as up the hill. (His doctor recently told me that’s why he lived as long as he did, another five years that we had together, after his heart attack.)

After Denis died, one of the many kind things that happened to me was something someone did which I’m sure she doesn’t remember. On the first Sunday that I felt I could return to church in person, I was trying to leave the Sanctuary after worship when a fellow member began to tell me “what to expect now”, in a well-meaning way, about my finances. Whatever she was saying, I could not get my head wrapped around it, but somehow I was unable to excuse myself. Along came another member, who saw what was happening, and who simply took my hand and led me away.

It doesn’t sound like a big deal. Why do I remember it? After all, it happened almost twenty years ago (although it seems like a week ago or an eternity, depending on whether it’s raining). Over those years, many people have been kind to me in so many ways, for which I have been very grateful.

But for me, on that Sunday morning when someone took my hand, this was God’s hand comforting me and helping me to keep going. I keep my eye open for whomever needs me to “take their hand.”

-Nancy Hammerton

As I get older, I find myself reflecting more on past events in my life, probably more than I should. But given that we are in the forty days of Lent, perhaps this is what I should be doing.

Many of my memories are wonderful; times spent with family and friends, accomplishments on the field of athletics, graduate school research, and my career in engineering. Other memories are of nagging and painful events scattered throughout my life, even from my days as an elementary school student. Some of my regrets stem from the old “should’a, would’a, could’a syndrome”; i.e. I should have and could have done better. But the most troubling memories for me are those where I did not behave or perform in ways that God would have expected from me.

Sometimes these troubling memories come to me in the middle of the night. What triggers them is a mystery to me, but the bottom line is I toss and turn, getting more agitated and uncomfortable until I remember Paul’s advice in Philippians 3:13-14: “Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do; forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.” No matter what stupid, self-centered, or inconsiderate acts I have committed in the past, God offers me forgiveness and a welcome into God’s family, today on earth and in the future with the saints. When I reflect on this, I can once again relax and find peace in the night.

So, what does this have to do with Frank Sinatra? Well, with no intended offense to “Ol’ Blue Eyes,” I think about the lyrics of his well-known tune, “My Way.” He begins with “And now the end is here, and so I face the final curtain,” and he continues with “Regrets, I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention,” and he concludes with a dramatic crescendo: “The record shows, I took the blows and did it my way.”

My goal for the remaining years of my life is to reach a point where I can sing (if only I could sing like Frank) with equal confidence, “I did it God’s way!”

-Trey Burns

[Editor’s Note: Yet another check-in from one of SUMC’s newest friends!]

I am grateful in 2024 for love and family.

I had a close relationship with my mother and older sister. Both passed away last year, the last two people who had known me my entire life. Trying to celebrate the anniversary of their passing has been very difficult. As tears alternate with smiles, I am so grateful for the memories of time spent with them, the happiness in our voices when we called each other to catch up. Shared experiences are all the more special because we were there for each other. Most of all, I felt and was a part of their love.

Thank you, God, for having these people in my life.

-Dottie Keene

First off, thank you to all who have contributed to the Lenten devotional. You have helped me start my days during Lent in a Christ-centered way!

I have wanted to pay that forward, but have had a stubborn case of writer’s block until I stumbled across Rob’s LentBlog writing prompt: “For me, celebrating Lent is different from Advent in this way.”

Never to be one who excelled in blindly following instructions, I’d prefer to argue their similarities.

While Lent certainly feels more somber, both are a time of waiting and preparation. And who can argue that at the end of this period of waiting arrives a great, unimaginable gift: at Christmas, the joy of the birth of a child who would change the world. At Easter, the resurrection of the divine who would save the world from sin. The gift is the same: Jesus Christ.

For most of you who know me, I have long been captured by the tenets of Advent Conspiracy: Spend Less, Give More, Worship Fully, and Love All. Each year, the Outreach Commission leads the congregation in an effort to steer away from the more commercial/consumer aspects of spending and focus more on giving by reaching out to the least, the last and the lost. To me, when we share with others by praising God through sacred hymns and carols at Musketahquid or Sudbury Pines, we truly Worship Fully!

My Lenten rituals have become an annual tradition as well. Eating healthier and giving up sweets are my sacrifice to God. In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul says, “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit?” Sadly, for much of the year I treat the temple more like a tavern — maybe not so much with excessive alcohol, but not the quality and quantity of nourishment that it was designed for.

Both seasons demand sacrifice. For me, planning and attending Advent Conspiracy events are somewhat of a sacrifice and can be a bit stressful for me and my family during the hectic holidays. Eating healthier and giving up sweets and especially soda and my favorite –- sweet tea! –- is truly a sacrifice … and not without some stress.

Okay, so maybe the ways I celebrate Advent and Lent are completely different. Yes, Advent is outwardly focused, and for Lent my focus is inward. But both deliver me to the same place. I cannot think of a single Advent Conspiracy event where my soul has not received more than it has given, and where I have not therefore been drawn closer to God. And each year during Lent, each time I walk by a cookie tin, or a bag of M&Ms while checking out at the store, I am reminded of why and for whom I am abstaining. And by consuming less, I am weighing less — but truly given more in a healthier walk with God.

So, for me, the gift IS the same during both Advent and Lent, a feeling of Joy on a closer walk with Christ!

-Brad Stayton