Dear Friends,
Several years ago, I had the opportunity to spend a few early fall days in the Rocky Mountains in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Upon arrival, I dropped my bags off, made a quick change of clothes, and stopped by the front desk to ask about the closest hike. The daylight was fading and I wanted the opportunity to move my body a little after a long flight and before the day’s end. The women at the desk recommended a trailhead easily accessed from behind the hotel’s main building, so I headed off in that direction.
For the first mile or so, the trail didn’t seem like much, a slowly climbing narrow gravel path surrounded on either side by tall dark-needled spruce trees. There wasn’t much of a view and only a sliver of sky peaked past the tree tops. It wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, but I figured that it was better than nothing. But as I walked along and the hill gained altitude, the thin line of the trail suddenly, surprisingly widened and the thick rows of trees parted to reveal the majesty of the mountains and open sky surrounded by miles of golden grass bathed in the warmth of September light.
The unexpected change in landscape and its overwhelming beauty took my breath away. As I stood with my hands on my hips, the land and the moment overwhelmed me, and I laughed at the unexpected grace of it all. It reminded me that in the midst of ordinary and mundane, and the hard, there is still space left for life and for God to surprise us; to take our breath away. God isn’t just a structured set of beliefs but an active love that moves in our lives, sometimes when we least expect.
Join us this Sunday, September 25th, for worship onsite and online at 10:00 am as we will continue with our sermon series Deeply Rooted, exploring texts from the book of Genesis and their connection to our lives here and now. I will be preaching from Genesis 18:1-15 following along with the story of Abraham and Sarah as their lives are unexpectedly, delightfully surprised by the grace of God.
And a poem by Steve Garness-Holmes:
Ripening One said, “Your wife Sarah shall have a son.” Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I have grown old, and my husband is old, shall I have pleasure?” The Lord said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh?” But Sarah denied, saying, “I did not laugh”; for she was afraid. He said, “Oh yes, you did laugh.” —from Genesis 18.10-15 As I approach my retirement on Sunday I am laughing— laughter not of derision but of release, laughter at the joke that at what seems an end some things are just beginning, laughter at the irony of my self-importance overshadowed by what is given to me, laughter at the mystery that as I grow old I’m now ripe to produce what I haven’t before: now it is time to pluck me from the tree and let me offer my sweet fruit. And there is a part of me, so wise and earnest and mature, that denies I am laughing, denies I am puzzled or surprised, pretends I have this figured out. The angels calmly call my bluff, my assurance I know the future, know what’s possible. The joke’s on me. When you get old, laugh at it. It helps you ripen.
Grace and Peace,
Sarah