Running the Race of Life

Rev. Brenda Leigy

Memorial Service, Friday May 30, 2025.
Susquehanna Annual Conference.
[Edited] Watch HERE.  

We join our hearts with family members and friends and remember fondly their loved ones who were pastors, colleagues, friends, parishioners among us. We give thanks and praise for these beautiful souls.

We could share many things in these moments about those we are remembering. We could speak about how they loved their family and their dedication to the church. We could speak of their prayer life, their compassion, their passion to share the love of Jesus with others. We could speak of their inspirational preaching, inspiring worship services, teaching, pastoral visits, leadership with children and youth; their love of music and singing and their community involvement; of how they encouraged us to truly live out the gospel as disciples.

And there is so much more we could share as we remember fondly how they made a difference in our lives. 

There is a reason we remember those who dedicated so much of their time in being faithful to their call. Hebrews 12:1 reminds us that, “we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses...” And we are. Witnesses of the faith and new life. People we have walked alongside, shoulder to shoulder, deep in the mire and muck, and to the deep valleys and to the mountain tops to be beacons of light to the world. All in the name of Jesus!

Hebrews refers to all of the people who have run the race of faith before us. If we go back to Hebrews chapter eleven, we are reminded of the faith of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and others, and how they endured suffering, and overcome obstacles, and ran the race of faith which was before them. 

We all know what it is like to have obstacles in our personal lives and in the life of the church. But you and I are not the first to run the Christian race; others have gone before us. And we thank God for them.

The book of Hebrews, not only talks about the “cloud of witnesses” it also uses the metaphor of running, urging believers to persevere in their faith with endurance. 

Hebrews 12:1 continues: 

“...let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” (ESV)

I would like to draw your attention to the following words from this passage in Hebrews:

“...and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith...”

While the scriptures may not always directly address the act of running as a physical exercise, its metaphors involving running provide valuable insights into the Christian journey, emphasizing perseverance, discipline, and fixing our eyes on Jesus.

The Apostle Paul used the analogy of a runner in a race many times in his letters. It was one way he could connect with his listeners who were familiar with the ancient Olympic Games and competition.

When I started dating my husband, Allen, I learned he had a passion for running road races. Often on a Saturday morning in the spring, summer and fall, we would drive to a town hosting a  5k or 10k race.

I did not run. I was the cheerleader, bag and water bottle holder who would be standing at the finish line. (If you know me well, I would rather have been participating in a 5k or 10k on horseback!)

When we lived in the Benton and Nescopeck communities, Allen’s new goal was running in the “Run for the Diamonds.” Allen ran in this race for 20+ years. It is a nine-mile race, where a runner faces a long and steep hill which tested the runner’s strength and endurance. The winner in the male and female categories would win a diamond.

I am here to bear witness that Allen never won a diamond! But for Allen it wasn’t necessarily about the diamond. For him, it was about the completion of the course and how well he personally ran the race.

Allen’s ambition grew from running a 5k or 10k and the 9-mile race to running a marathon: 26.2 miles. And not just any marathon, his goal was the Boston Marathon, which he had to qualify for by running in other marathons. He has run a total of around 26 marathons so far in his life. 

I didn’t get it. Who in their right mind would run 26.2 miles in the heat, the rain, the cold? Who in their right mind would run for 2 hours, 3 hours, 4 hours, and beyond? Who in their right mind would run to the point of exhaustion and dehydration and collapse at the finish line? 

I just didn’t get it.

A marathon is definitely a strenuous test of fitness, perseverance, and endurance.

As Christians we run a different race with perseverance, faithfulness, and fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith.

When we run the race of life in Jesus’ name, we must concentrate on attaining the goal of Christlikeness and not get distracted by worldly attractions and temptations. The race God set out for us is a lifelong marathon, we must commit ourselves to run to the very end.

Emily Schankweiler has been credited with saying, “The Christian life is not a sprint; it is a marathon.” The idea is that the Christian life is a long-term process of growth and development, requiring daily effort and commitment. 

Paul in his letter to the Ephesians writes about running a race – a race set before us as followers of Jesus. And we run this race because Jesus prepared and ran faithfully. We run this race because of the “the cloud of witnesses”  who persevered and ran faithfully to share the love of Jesus with others.

The whole metaphor of running a race is a metaphor for our lives. God has called us to run the race of this life. Sometimes the race is short; sometimes it is long. But no matter the distance and time, God has called us to finish the race faithfully!

Paul was longing to finish his life well. When speaking to the Ephesian leaders for the last time, he told them, “I do not consider my life of any account as dear to myself, so that I may finish my course and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify solemnly of the gospel of the grace of God.” —Acts 20:24

Paul lived his life as a race to be run. He lived it as a race to be finished, being faithful to Christ. Walking in His way. Trusting in His word.

In Philippians 3:13-14, Paul writes: “Beloved, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ.”

At the end of Paul’s life, the good news was this: he finished. And he finished well. He told Timothy,

”For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.” —2 Timothy 4:7-8

I don’t believe that Paul was referring to his upcoming itinerary here, but rather to eternity. God had called him to share the gospel, and that is what his focused was on. Paul’s energy was devoted, not to making a name for himself, or preparing for retirement, or trying to be successful in this life; but rather to win the prize that God had set before him. And he was not going to let anything get in the way of that, neither his past nor his present.

So, by declaring “I have finished the race,” Paul is telling Timothy that he had put every effort into the work of proclaiming to all the Gospel of salvation. He had completed the course set before him; he had left nothing undone. He was ready to cross the finish line and receive his eternal reward.

And with the completion of his race, Paul was expecting the reward as he proclaimed,  “...in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day...” —2 Timothy 4:8

Paul emphasizes the necessity of running our race with purpose and intention. He invites us to reflect on the very core of Christian living, striving for spiritual growth, fueled by personal discipline, and guided by God’s hand. It’s a vivid reminder that the way we run the race of faith matters. 

In our spiritual race, we’ll face hurdles and obstacles, the demands of our training will be intense, and we’ll need extreme discipline and endurance to persevere. But we don’t face these challenges on our own. It’s the Holy Spirit who steps in as our coach.

No matter how long the race may be, we are to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, “the champion who initiates and perfects our faith” because Jesus perfectly finished His race.

May we be diligent in our “race,” may we keep our eyes fixed on Jesus and may we, like the ones we remember, finish strong and finish well.

To the family members who may have been on the sideline or at the finish line, cheering your loved one on, offering words of support encouragement, prayer, and a listening ear, running in your own way the race with them, we thank you. 

Annual Conference Memorial Service: God’s Gleaners

Following is the sermon from the Memorial Service held at the 2024 Susquehanna Annual Conference on Thursday, May 30. You can view this service and sermon (at 36:33)  HERE. 

Ezekiel 37:1-6    Hebrews 12:1-3   John 8:29-32

Rev. Dr. Charles Salisbury

We are here again as the gathering of the family of God and the people called United Methodist. We share a common ministry as people of Jesus and claim our roles as Disciples to bear witness to the Gospel and to do everything in our power to live it out for as long as we have breath. And on this night, we remember those who in their time on earth walked with us as colleagues, served with us as holy laborers, journeyed with us, inspired us and helped to remind each of us of the true greatness of the God we serve.

Their titles may have differed: they were called elder, deacon, associate member, local pastor, CLM, or lay member; but they shared with us a common cause: to help change this world for the good and to testify to the unimaginable strength of God’s love. Now we who follow in that same path of ministry that they helped carve out pause to honor them and honor their families who lent them to us. To those family members gathered here, from the bottom of our hearts and souls, we say thank you!

Ministry is a journey of ups and downs, mountains and valleys…and sometimes in that journey we have watershed moments so profound that they help re-define our call and our purpose. For me it was a conversation that I was privy to 42 years ago when I was a staff member at the United Methodist Home for Children. A fourteen-year-old teenager had been adjudicated delinquent. His mother had made the decision to give up custody since she felt she could no longer deal with him. In a public courtroom, she looked at her son and uttered the words “I don’t love you anymore.” Those words cut through the air of that courtroom like a knife. I believe in the heart of that young man who already felt he had so little…he now believed he had nothing.

From that point forward, I came to strongly believe that the state of being unloved is the most unnatural state of humanity. We were not created to be unloved. We were not redeemed on a cross to be unloved. And I am convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt, we cannot thrive in any way unless we know we are loved by someone. And I believe it is our shared task as the people of Jesus Christ to do everything in our earthly power to be that someone who shows to those who are broken, those who are hurting, and those who feel alone…. that they are loved no matter what.

The prophet Ezekiel spoke to us about a vision of a Valley of Dry Bones. For many of us this never rises above the level of a metaphor, but there is some real truth surrounding Ezekiel’s words. In the history of war that extends much farther back than written history, there was a common tradition that once an army was defeated in battle, the victors gave the vanquished the opportunity to bury their dead, to have some dignity in defeat. But in that rare instance where the victor had nothing but contempt and disdain for their enemy, they did not allow this to happen. The bodies of the defeated remained on the battlefield to decay and yes, turn to dry bones. It was the ultimate insult and indignity.

Ezekiel’s vision depicts God bringing Ezekiel to such a valley where there were bones everywhere. God led Ezekiel through this valley to see the abundance of bones and that they were dry, which meant even after much time no one had given them the dignity of burial; no one said they mattered. In many ways no one could be more forgotten than the people whose bones filled that valley. Basically, It was the end of their story...but not quite.

God asks Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?” Ezekiel responds with an answer many of us have employed in ministry more often than we admit…. “I don’t know,” or what he probably was feeling, “Lord you know, ‘cause I sure don’t!”

Then God said, “Prophesy to these bones, these bones that the world has given up on…Prophesy! And prophesy like you believe something is going to happen! And as you tell those bones to hear the word of the Lord, I will put in your mouth the same breath that first filled Adam’s lungs and they will come to life…. the bones, the tendons, the flesh and the skin! These bones will live!” God still addresses that same question “Can these bones live?” to all of us who preach and witness for Jesus Christ. Can we have that same conviction in our answer to God when we face the valleys that our society and culture have created that say certain people don’t matter anymore. Can we love in places where others have given up on love?

It is 2024….and once again Pennsylvania is a purple state…a key electoral state in a bitterly divided nation. We will once again have the dubious honor of more money spent on political ads per capita than anywhere in this nation…. Every time we turn on the TV, listen to a radio, or connect with social media we will hear the negative voices. We will hear about valleys of dry bones…. But the question is: can we the people of Jesus Christ believe that even these bones can live? Can we believe in grace? Can we believe that in this time of constant confrontation, we can be the witness of true peace and love to all people? Are we the people of the resurrection or are we not?

Hebrews 12 speaks to us of a great cloud of witnesses …those who have walked before us…those who have set the example. We gather tonight to honor our colleagues who have become part of this cloud of witnesses. We honor them when we run the race for which they have blazed the trail. When we persevere and when we endure, we tell those colleagues that their dreams and visions are not forgotten but carried on in everything we claim to be as believers in Jesus Christ and witnesses of the Gospel.

And to the precious family members who gather with us tonight: You may not have a title before or after your name but you were called just the same. You prayed to God…You gave up a portion of your life for ministry…You loved your churches like you cherished your loved one. We can never thank you enough for the contributions you made—and most of those contributions we will never know. But in memory of your loved one, we will continue to run the race, we will continue to preach the Gospel, we will continue to honor Christ in all that we do. We shall never rest until every disciple is made and this world is transformed through faith, love, peace and justice. This is our pledge to you!

We know it won’t be easy…. I ‘m not sure it’s ever been easy…. but we have to do the hard work for the sake of the Gospel. As our Conference theme declares “The Harvest is Plentiful’, but we still need to put in the hard work. This is not one of those fishing shows on Discovery Channel where the fish just jump in the boat. We will need to work for the harvest; ….and when the circumstances are most difficult, we have to be willing to glean. When others observe the field and say there is nothing left, we say we are not finished yet! We are the children of Ruth, who demonstrated to us what perseverance really means…. We can’t quit when ministry becomes difficult…. we have to get on our knees and get our hands dirty for the sake of the Gospel….it is who God has called us to be! 

The Bible is full of moments when the people of faith were willing to glean, searching for holy sustenance when the rest of the world has given up. My friends, there are no dry bones in our valleys. Be strong and courageous! Believe in the Good News - the ever-present power of our God to change hearts, change lives and change the world. It’s still the truth that sets us free. It is an old story but it is still the greatest story ever told!

It is time to sing, my friends, but I need help… let’s celebrate our “Victory in Jesus!”

Letters to the Church

Following is an edited version of the 2023 Susquehanna Conference Memorial Service message by Rev. Catherine E. Boileau. You can view a video of the service here. Rev. Boileau’s message begins at 30:40.

Scripture: 2 Corinthians 3:1-6

It was almost 2 years ago to the day, we were an hour away from my parents’ house and we got the call that my dad had been taken suddenly by ambulance. By the time we arrived at the hospital, he had been put on a respirator and sedated. So we went home to be with my mother. The next morning I crept in [to his hospital room] and surprisingly, my dad was awake. The doctors came and motioned me out into the hallway and in very subdued, whispered conversations told me that my dad would not survive on the respirator. They were going to take him off it that morning, and he had only a 1% chance to live. 

You know those moments.

I went back in and my dad motioned [with a slight wave] and I didn’t understand what he was trying to say. I reached into my bag for my pen and my journal and handed it to him and he wrote, “Bye-bye”. I said to my dad that I didn’t understand why he wrote that and he wrote that he’d heard everything the doctor said. Oh Dad.

And so we sat for [who knows] how long in that sacred space, what the Celts call those thin spaces where eternity and mortality all come together, a space they say where God is only three feet away. 

You know those spaces.

Times seems to stand still, even while the clock is ticking. So we sat in that holy space. Finally, he motioned for the pen and the journal and not knowing what to expect now from him—but we lean in don’t we? We want to hear every word because we know they’re gifts—my engineer, pragmatic father wrote these words, “So, don’t forget to cancel the bank card.” Oh, Dad!

Now lest you think that my dad had thousands or millions of dollars to protect, that’s not the case. Or that his checking account was most important to him, that was also not the case. Throughout that morning he wrote countless notes to me and to the family, notes of caring. To his dying breath he was concerned about his wife of 62 years, my mother. “Have your mother sit down, her hips won’t take it.” 

When we were sharing together in casual conversation, waiting for the doctors to come, and said how cold the room was, dad wrote, “If you’re cold, go buy yourself a sweatshirt.” When the doctors or the chaplains or anyone came in the room that morning, Dad would [tell me] the stories to share—and they were all about the grandchildren. “Tell the doctor about Jonah and the lamp,” “Tell the chaplain about Ron and his girls.” 

But maybe most precious to me was when I said, “Dad, should I call your pastor now?” And he wrote, “Yes, mom will need him eventually, but you’re my pastor.” Oh dad.

Isn’t it amazing how God gives us the capability to shape each other through letters and words and they land right in our heart and in our spirit? Those letters stay with me, of course, and they became words of hope for the family, who could not because of COVID get there to say their goodbyes. To tell the grandchildren that even though grandpa was on the respirator he wanted stories told about them, because they were his precious joy, and he was thinking about them in those moments. 

And when [the doctors] came to remove the respirator, and everybody had left but I stayed with him, he made the sign of the cross and said, “To live is Christ, to die is gain.” Oh Dad. 

Dad survived six more days, struggling for his breath all the way through. But still enough breath to send us to the bakery for his favorite cheese Danish because the hospital one wouldn’t do. He was still my dad. When I thought about the letter about the bank card, I realized it wasn’t as much about his checking account, as it was about his faith. And that in a moment such as that, when he knew the hours were coming to an end, he had no fear. He didn’t need to panic or wrestle. He knew in Whom he believed, and he knew that One was trustworthy. 

To the families that we invited into this thin space, who by coming [to the Memorial Service] were so gracious to invite us into theirs: We know that you know the thin spaces. Those places where eternity and our regular day-to-day intermix and are interwoven. In the thin places, God writes his word also in our heart and meets us in those moments, because God is faithful. Because precious in the eyes of the Lord are the deaths of his saints. 

The Apostle Paul was a great writer of letters. They were sharp and focused and, like my dad’s notes, sometimes there’s little pieces that are just for certain people and we’re quite left wondering. But there was aways an urgency and a desire to get to what was most important. I thought about that. Maybe it’s because Paul spent most of his ministry in the thin spaces. Shipwrecked, beaten, stoned, left for dead, accused, beaten again, and imprisoned... Paul spent most of his ministry facing the thin spaces. In the thin spaces, we tend to tune in to what is most important. In the thin spaces, we don’t spend a lot of time and energy and emotion on those things that don’t really matter.

So Paul writes a letter to one of his beloved congregations, the letter we know as I Corinthians. It’s full of passages we quote, I Corinthians 13, “Love is patient. Love is kind.” But it also has a sharp edge on some parts of the Corinthian church’s life—where there were some variances. Understandably so, when the Corinthians received the letter from their church planter, beloved pastor, there was some push-back.

Have you ever noticed when you tell the truth, that not everybody is glad to hear it. Can I get a witness? 

And so there is some push-back and as often happens, if you’re the one delivering the truth, then sometimes people will want to discredit you, discount you. They’re not sure Paul’s as good a preacher as Apollos. In this [second] letter when he responds after they’ve expressed their sadness at causing Paul the angst, it seems there’s still a question about his credentials. Who is [Paul] to come before them or send this letter about them to tell them about their life? Where are his letters of recommendation? 

Here in this little piece of a letter [2 Corinthians 3:1-6] Paul speaks volumes to them, and if we’re listening, to us. Those of us in the thin spaces because we remember with love those who have gone on before us. Those of us in thin spaces in the conference—because we too are in somewhat of a thin space. Paul says this, to a church where in the culture of the day if you were going to present a lesson, or were going to share some kind of teaching, you would carry in your hand or in your pocket parchment; letters of recommendation from those who knew the people you were going to or some expert or known entity. After asking them [if he needs] to have letters of recommendation to them or from them Paul says this, “You, yourselves are my letters of recommendation...” (v2.)

What matters most in ministry—Paul is writing to the Corinthians and to us—is this, it doesn’t make a difference how in the end, in the thin spaces, it doesn’t matter how many degrees I have, or how many accolades I have, or how impressive my LinkedIn profile is, or how many followers I have on social media. It doesn’t even matter the size of my church, or the salary that I make, because at the end of the day, in the thin spaces, what Jesus will remember, will pay attention to, are the words we spoke, the letters we wrote, to people in our life. It’s a bold statement by Paul. The test of my life, whether or not I’ve been fruitful and effective, at the end of the day will be what I invested in the hearts and souls of people. 

Ministry is all about people. The goal of everything we do in the church of Jesus Christ is to plant the Gospel seed in the hearts and souls of humankind and to demonstrate the power of the Kingdom in the accompanying justice and mercy ministries. People matter to God, so they have to matter to us. 

My husband and I spend seven years in urban neighborhoods in the former South Jersey Conference before we moved back to Susquehanna [Conference]. We worked with 8-12 year olds and at that time, Camden, N.J., was second in gang activity only to east Los Angeles. One night we were with one of our beloved campers, Jurell, and his single mom, Linda. My husband took Jurell out for a walk and talk. I sat in Linda’s little bungalow, sitting on a junkyard, and it was spotless. And she poured out all the things in her life that were challenges to her as a single mom raising this beautiful boy, her son. Being affluent and white and from the suburbs I asked, “Do you have a case worked or case manager who could help you?” Linda got up, left the room and came back with the Bible that we had given Jurell at camp, and she said, “I don’t need any more social workers. What I need is for you to tell me about this Jesus that you told Jurell about.”

Church have you ever noticed —if we’re paying attention—that oftentimes those we go to serve are in fact writing letters in our heart? Those we go to serve often become—if we are paying attention—our teachers, imprinting our lives.  Maybe if were talking about being new and improved, we can renew our covenant, our passion, to remember that our ministry is about writing letters through the Spirit of God, scribing the Gospel, so the world can read in us the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

When your church looks at you, what letter are they reading about God? What you’re posting, and what you’re sharing, and what you’re saying, and how you’re navigating conflicts—what letter is the world reading about God?

As I shared, my dad survived six more days after the respirator was removed, and he amazed me. I realized, as I thought about it, that he had no reason to rush or to cram things in because he had been prepared by the church for this moment all his life. My dad was baptized Dutch Reformed, but he married into the Methodist tribe. As he spent most of his adult life in the Methodist Episcopal Church then United Methodist Church, I realized that everything the church was doing and that he was participating in was preparing him for that moment. Because, we are in the business of forming people. Every time his pastors prayed the simple prayer over communion, making the bread and juice to be the body and blood of Christ and then also praying for the Spirit to come on the church so we can become the body of Christ, redeemed by His blood, that prayer was being answered in my dad and he was being formed in the eternal, living Christ. Every time he went to a church meeting, even when things went wrong and there was conflict, he worked through the conflict and the day didn’t end, and the sky didn’t fall, and they ended up working through it and moving on in Jesus’ name. Even with disagreements, my dad was being formed by you, the church, in Jesus Christ. The anthems that he sang in the choir. When he took Disciple Bible Study he became a disciple, so much so that he taught Disciple Bible Study for 25 years. My dad was being formed by the church of Jesus Christ.

He said, “For my memorial service you might look in the back of my Bible, there’s some verses.” It turned out there were 86 of them. And not just, “‘I go to prepare a place for you,’ says Jesus,” but about Jesus and the Sadducees, and why we knew the resurrection was the resurrection. Or Job who said ‘when this body fails, yet I shall see God, because I know that my redeemer liveth.’ (Job 19:25-26) Dad knew that Jesus didn’t just offer us resurrection, Jesus is the resurrection and the life. My dad knew because the church were letter writers—not perfect—but none-the-less the Spirit was using the church to write the Gospel seed into my dad’s heart and soul. 

So I’m forever grateful.

To those of you who are family members ...we give thanks of a grateful church, as your clergy father or mother or spouse, spouse of a clergy, or lay members were all instrumental in writing through the Spirit of God the eternal Gospel into the hearts and souls of people like my dad. [We give thanks] for the clergy who preached and for the spouses who served, who whispered words of encouragement, or said, “I’ll take the kids, go…” and modeled what servanthood looked like. They believed in a kingdom they could not see and they believed that “Greater is He who is in me than he who is in the world.” So, we as a church say thank you for sharing them with us, for what they did, how they lived. It matters. And not only we remember, Jesus remembers. In Matthew 25, Jesus tells us that even the small things they did as a lifestyle witness, Jesus took notice of. “I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink. I was hungry and you fed me. I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you did not forget me.” We give thanks to them, and to you for sharing them and we remember them. The promise for them is secure. The same God that raised Jesus from the dead lives in us. 

AC2021 COVID Memorial Service: Mending Nets

pixabay.com Franck Barske

By Rev. Barry Robison, Harrisburg District Superintendant

COVID Memorial Service
2021 Susquehanna Annual Conference, June 18, 2021

tinyurl.com/3mzch329

Well, where to start? I don’t know about my colleagues, but I always find it a challenge to know how to begin a message for a service of death and resurrection or a celebration of life observance. Often, I struggle with what the best way would be to acknowledge the loss and pain that death brought to family and friends, but also to proclaim the hope and healing that Christ’s resurrection brings. 

Perhaps I make it harder on myself than it needs to be because I’ve always made it a practice to craft the service, and especially the message, in as personal a way as possible. I believe it is important for family and friends to hear something personal in the liturgy as well as the message. There’s a healing aspect to knowing that your loved one was known, personally, by others and by God. There’s real comfort in being reminded that your loved one, and their life, mattered to others, and to God.

It’s also important to hear words acknowledging the reality of death, and more so to hear the hopeful words acknowledging the reality of victory over death. A significant aspect of hearing such words fairly soon after a death is that they help strengthen and prepare us for when death will intrude into our lives again down the road. These services and messages help us to move on and begin to put our lives back together again, sooner rather than later. But where to begin a message for a service intended to acknowledge all the losses and pain we have suffered due to COVID? I mean, persons have lost their lives and families and friends have lost loved ones to the pandemic, some as much as sixteen months ago. 

Churches, too, have suffered losses. Congregations have been impacted, not just by deaths of congregants caused by COVID, but also by suffering the loss of ministries, of financial security, of momentum, and the loss of the sense of family as people choose to go elsewhere or not return to in person worship. Our churches, too, need to hear words acknowledging the reality of these kinds of death in their fellowships, and even more so, perhaps, to hear the hopeful words acknowledging the reality of victory over death. 

It was the third Sunday of January this year when I tuned in to an on-line service from one of our churches. The scripture lesson was about Jesus calling Andrew and Peter, John and James. That Sunday was right after perhaps the largest spike in COVID cases since the pandemic began. Maybe that’s why I heard two verses of that very familiar passage of scripture as I never heard them before: “A little farther up the shore, Jesus saw two other brothers, James and John, sitting in a boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets. And he called them to come, too. They immediately followed him, leaving the boat and their father behind.” 

What jumped out at me that day was the phrase, “mending their nets.” Immediately my mind was drawn to the image of mending nets as an apt description of the work and effort required of us to put our lives back together as individuals, as churches, as our nation, and even as the world, as we come out of a devastating pandemic. 

Interestingly, three months later I attended, in person, a worship service at the same church because I wanted to hear the guest speaker who was to preach. Lo and behold, I heard the same scripture from the same pulpit in person as I did virtually. That confirmed for me that “mending nets” was the way to start the message for this service acknowledging all of the losses and pain we have experienced because of the pandemic.

The nets of our lives, individually and congregationally, have been torn and the task of mending them is before us. COVID has torn the nets of our lives in different ways. It has affected the physical, mental and spiritual health of some people in ongoing ways. It has affected others through loss of income or employment. It has caused folks to feel isolated through the loss of relationships, both personally and congregationally. COVID has torn the nets of the ways we live life, at home, in public, and at church.

For those who fish with nets, it is inevitable that the nets will tear. One can’t escape the fact that using nets to fish causes the nets to become worn and/or broken. The more or the harder they are used, the quicker and more severe the tearing will be. That reality, though, shouldn’t discourage folks who fish from using nets. Those who use them simply need to understand and be prepared to make repairs frequently. Likewise, we shouldn’t shy away from living life and being the church simply because the nets of our lives and ministries will eventually get torn.

And so, part of a fisher’s work is spent fishing, and part spent mending. Repairing broken nets is tedious and often time-consuming work. I can’t imagine very many people look forward to or enjoy mending nets. Sometimes it may seem to those who fish that more time is spent mending than actually fishing. Whether true or not, mending nets is doing what needs to be done behind the scenes so the nets can be used again to catch fish. 

All of us, as we live our lives, encounter times when the nets of our lives have been torn or broken. Relationships have ended, jobs have been lost, illness or accident have altered what we might be able to do, or not be able to do, physically. Death is certainly one of those times when the nets of life get torn, perhaps in wider or bigger ways than any other. Yes, the pandemic has torn the nets of our lives in many ways, but especially torn the nets of our hearts through the deaths of our loved ones. 

For those of you who have lost loved ones over the course of this pandemic, you have been faced with the daunting task of trying to mend the nets of your life in ways that are not traditional. Services of Life and Resurrection, memorial services and funerals could not be held at all, much less in our accustomed ways. Family, friends and loved ones could not visit before death came, or gather afterwards for comfort, in the familiar ways that are so helpful. Mending the nets of our lives following a death has been difficult in these days because we have been denied the opportunity to hear words acknowledging the reality of death, and more so to hear the hopeful words acknowledging the reality of victory over death.

But the good news is that our hearts can be mended. God is in the mending business, you know. God can, will and does help us mend all the nets of life, but especially our hearts. May you hear in verses 14 and 15 of Psalm 90 the affect the mending work of God can have for you: “O Lord, satisfy us each morning with your unfailing love, so we may sing for joy to the end of our lives. Give us gladness in proportion to our former misery! Replace evil years with good.” Sounds like those words were written for today, doesn’t it?

One universal effect I’ve heard the pandemic has had on people, on pastors, and on parishioners alike is weariness and the sense of feeling burdened. Folks are just plain tired … tired of coping with and fighting over restrictions, tired of trying to hold life and ministry together now, while looking for creative ways to adapt ministries to a world that has changed, and tired of trying to mend the nets of our lives. 

As we’re finding out, it takes time and effort to mend. Usually, it is slow and meticulous work that requires patience and steadfastness. The same will be true of mending the tears and brokenness in our human families, especially since some our grief work has been delayed. And it will also be true for our church families. So may we hear anew and take hope from Jesus’ invitation as recorded in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” 

Applying the image of mending nets to our churches would mean that much work needs to be done behind the scenes to care for what has become torn or broken in our churches by this pandemic, so that the church can be best able to cast nets again to bring people to Christ, and hopefully into the church, as well. Hear that again: much work needs to be done behind the scenes to care for what has become torn or broken in our churches by this pandemic, so that the church can be best able to cast nets again to bring people to Christ, and hopefully into the church, as well. 

Mending what is torn or broken is not glamorous work, whether on a lakeshore or in a zoom meeting room. It is not the work that usually gets recognized, acclaimed or even thanked. It can be hard and frustrating. But just as God is at work to mend the nets of our human hearts and lives, God will be present to help congregations mend the nets of their lives and ministries, no matter how great the tear or how big the holes. 

The word “mending” implies an intention to keep using. One doesn’t mend something unless one intends to keep and use the item, as opposed to throwing it away and getting something new or different. But hear this: The thing mended, fixed or repaired, might not be able to do everything it used to do or in the way it was used to do it. Nevertheless, it still might have value and could still be useful.

An example: I inherited an electric trimmer for shrubbery. That means I have to use an extension cord to operate the thing. To reach all of the bushes at one parsonage, I needed a hundred-foot extension cord. One time as I was trimming, I went to flip the cord over the top of bush while still operating the trimmer. The cord caught on the bush and I “trimmed” off the last 12-18 inches of the cord. Now, being cheap—I mean being frugal and a wise steward— instead of throwing 98-½ or 99 feet of extension cord away and buying a new one, I asked a friend to “mend” the extension cord by splicing the plug back on to the remaining cord. I could then use the perfectly good cord, just not being able to reach quite as far.

Our churches and church families will not be the same; ministries, events, worship services will be different in part because some members of the family have chosen not to be there. Ministries, events and worship services will be different because many have discovered, and are now using, new and different ways to conduct those ministries, and by them are reaching new and different people. Because churches and church families will not be and are not the same even now, we can choose to look at the situation entirely negatively and try to go back to the old ways, like the disciples later wanted to do, or we can look at it as something new with all the potential and possibilities of new things. 

Remember, God consistently proclaims throughout Scripture that God is a God of the new. It seems that we are poised today to experience Ezekiel’s vision of the Valley of Dry Bones. Already God has been at work through the people and pastors of our congregations to put nee flesh onto dry bones and to breathe new life into our churches and our ministries.

For instance, several of our churches opened their facilities to community children and their families as part of the Community Classroom Initiative. The goal of the Initiative is to provide a safe space where local elementary students could continue their on-line education when staying at home and/or going to school weren’t options. What a wonderful, new way for God’s people to connect with local people like never before. 

As great as that is on its own, in at least one case God did even more. A family with elementary aged children utilized a church’s Community Classroom. The parents later came to the pastor and asked to have their children, and themselves, baptized and to perform their marriage. Beyond merely the ministry of the congregation, a net was mended for that family personally. What’s more, that connection between a church and neighbors the congregation never knew before is an example of how we can fulfill our mission to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world even in a pandemic. As the pastor observed, “...sometimes it takes stressful and overwhelming circumstances to provide the catalyst to change in positive and uplifting ways.” Said another way, “Sometimes nets need to be torn so they can be mended in new and perhaps stronger ways.” 

But you know, there do come times when the nets can no longer be mended sufficiently to be useful or effective to catch fish. In those times, the wiser and better course is to discard those nets and replace them with something new, and perhaps something different. Andrew and Peter, John and James were called by Jesus while they were mending the nets, not after they were finished. We may feel like all we can or should do at this time is mend our nets by trying to put our lives back together the way they were. But God may very well be taking the opportunities created by the pandemic to call us from mending only to some other purpose. Remember, in Ecclesiastes 3 it says there is a time to tear and a time to sew, but also there is a time to keep and a time to throw away.

This passage from Matthew reveals to us that Christ may come along and call us away from what we are trying to mend, calling us to follow him in new directions and into new ways to fish or to live instead. Jesus did that here, at the beginning of his ministry, calling Andrew and Peter, John and James away from their fishing and their mending. 

Jesus also did it at the end of his earthly ministry. You may remember that after the crucifixion, the disciples wanted to go back to their old way of life. But Jesus came again and called them away from going back to what was, to moving ahead to what could be on the other side of the resurrection. The power of the resurrection made available through the coming of the Holy Spirit would make things possible that were impossible and inconceivable before the crucifixion tore apart the nets of their lives and their three-year ministry with Christ. I believe the same can and will be true for believers and congregations that look for and respond to Christ’s coming to them today as the church rises again post-pandemic.

Covid forced change on us. The pandemic forced our churches to consider all kinds of ways, most new and different, to “mend” the ways they did worship, Bible study and Sunday School. Churches had to figure out how they could mend the ways they offered food and clothing to the needy, care for and “visit” those confined to their homes or residential facilities, reach out to their neighbors and communities, and use the buildings which were suddenly vacant and underutilized. 

A couple of weeks ago my wife was looking through a file drawer and came across a bunch of folders. She put them aside for me to look through, to see if there were things that we still wanted or needed to keep. In one folder, I found a message I wrote in 1999 to a congregation I was leaving for a new appointment. I had forgotten all about it, but it seems in God’s timing that God brought those words back to my attention again that I might share some of those words with you in closing today.

I wrote: There [was] a commercial by the Hershey’s Corporation that [said]: “Change Is Bad.” (The commercial referred to changing formulas or recipes of food products.) Don’t you believe it. Maybe for Hershey’s and Classic Coke change is bad, but for everything else change is essential. A wiser person than an advertising executive observed that “Living things that do not change, die.”

Think about it. Snakes shed their skin; if they didn’t, they would remain forever small or strangle in their too tightly fitting skin. Hermit crabs leave one shell to find a bigger one; if they didn’t, the pressure of growing against their cramped quarters would eventually kill them. We enjoy beautiful butterflies because caterpillars changed. Gorgeous flowers blossom because seeds first died.

Change is good! Human beings change all the time. No mother can give birth without her body going through tremendous changes. Although there are some days when we may long to return to the simpler times of childhood, most of the time we adults are glad that we endured the growing pains of childhood and the upheavals of adolescence. Without those changes, we would remain children.

The whole point of this [reflection] is to say that change in the church is good, too. No church wants to be known as a dead church. (Refer to Revelation 3:1-6 for Jesus’ rather strongly negative opinion of dead churches.) But to remain alive, churches must change. In order to grow, churches must change.

Like the hermit crab, the church I served changed in the past by moving from a building too small to a larger one. How painful that must have been to those folks who were baptized, married and had family buried out of that first sanctuary. But the work of the church flourished with bigger space, and the congregation enjoyed the benefits of the change undertaken so many years ago.

Like mothers, the church I served had undergone tremendous changes to give birth to many new, different and exciting ministries. Sometimes, like caterpillars, ministries had to be suspended for a time only to emerge in wonderfully new ways. Sound like today, folks? Other times, long-forgotten seeds planted by church members finally grew and sprouted into effective ministries in God’s time. Most of us have no idea of the struggles involved, the tears shed, the agonies endured by those who have gone before us. What we do know, is that [the church] and its individual members are stronger disciples for Christ because those changes took place.

And so today, as important as mending nets can be, I encourage you to resist the temptation to think that all you can or should do at this time is mend your nets by trying to put your lives back together the way they were. God may be calling all of us away from those efforts to some other purpose.