Every 9 seconds

Every 9 seconds, someone is physically abused.  

1 out of every 3 women have been physically abused at some point in their lives. 1 of 7 have been stalked to the point of fearing for their safety. 

Let those numbers sink in for a second. They equate to 10 million US abuse victims annually. It's a frightening reality that affects every community and all people regardless of age, socio-economic status, race, or nationality. Perhaps you are one of the ones reflected in these numbers. 

This Sunday at 4:00, the downtown clergy are sponsoring a "Break the Silence" service for all victims of violence and abuse. The service will be held at Hood Seminary and include scripture readings, song, reflection and testimonies. 

For many victims, their abuse has been "silent." Far too many have been afraid to let anyone know about their past either for fear of retaliation, embarrassment, or worry that they will be labeled. "Break the Silence" gives space for voices to be heard and wounds to be healed. 

I'll be a part of the service and would certainly invite your participation if it would be meaningful to you. Or perhaps this idea simply brings up a difficult reminder of your past/hurt. Please know that St. John's is a place where we gather to be healed -- a place of hope, of balm for our wounds, and a loving reminder that we are made new again by a God who dares to walk with us into those very dark places. 

Blessings to you during this second week of Easter. Christ is alive! The tomb is empty. There is hope for tomorrow :)

Peace+

Pastor Rhodes

Nothing can separate us

We've just finished conducting the memorial service for Nancy Bowden, a life-long member of St. John's whose services for baptism, first communion, confirmation, marriage, and now burial were all held in our sanctuary. 

There was something special about her funeral being held on Maundy Thursday. The altar area has already been prepared for tonight's worship, a large black veil nearly covering the triptych, the remnants of Palm Sunday still in the chancel -- a pitcher, towel, robe of purple cloth, and crown of thorns. Though we celebrated Nancy's life, the space presented a powerful reminder that a funeral service is about far more than us. It's the church's strongest and most profound statement that, because of Christ's death and resurrection, nothing can separate us from the love of God. Neither life nor death nor things present nor things to come. Nothing can separate us from God's love. 

Tonight we re-tell the story of Jesus' last meal, the washing of his disciples' feet, and his betrayal by Judas. The mood is stark, especially as we end with the dramatic stripping of the altar amidst total silence and darkness. At the end, only darkness remains. 

On Good Friday we gather in darkness, stunned as the final candle -- the only light that remains -- is removed from the sanctuary. 

Thankfully you know the rest of the story. Easter dawns, the tomb is empty, Christ is risen! Whew!

But might I ask a favor? There are lots of folks in our world and in our community who don't know the rest of the story. Sure, they might have heard it, but their lives continue to be wrapped in darkness and despair and grief and betrayal. For whatever reason, it's hard for them to wrap their heads around "new life" and "hope" and an "empty tomb." It's difficult for them to embrace this belief that nothing can separate us from God's love. 

Will you pray for them? ... and if given the opportunity, will you invite them to hear and experience the rest of the story? It may well be the greatest gift you've ever given. 

Thank you for who you are. And thanks be to God for the privilege of sharing in this journey with you. 

Monsters in Syria

What else can go wrong in Syria?

Since the civil war began in 2011 nearly 500,000 people have been killed in a country less than twice the size of North Carolina. 6.5 million live in refugee camps within the country, while 5 million have fled Syria because of fear and starvation.

And the fear is fully justified. In 2013 alone, the Syrian president launched a chemical attack upon his own people, killing 1500, including nearly 500 children. Pressured by the US, Assad promised not to use chemical weapons in the future. Ever.

Well, here we go again. Last Tuesday Assad launched another chemical attack on innocent civilians, yet another spineless, heartless disregard for life. The guy's a monster.

Remember the image two years ago that changed the world -- of the 3 year old Syrian boy refugee whose lifeless body was found on a beach in Turkey? His family and thousands more like them had risked life and limb to escape the horrors of what must be hell on earth. That image almost single-handily led to the opening of Germany's doors to hundreds of thousands of refugees.

Or last year, the image of a 5 year old boy whose blood-stained body lay covered in dust after another government-sponsored air strike on his hometown of Aleppo?

Oh, and how could we forget last year's video of ISIS militants carrying out a mass execution by beheading Syrian rebels? Can there be two more feared and hated groups fighting each other?

Brutal warfare led by a brutal dictator against a brutal opposition.

What are we to do?

I wouldn't want to be president in times like these. As I write, President Trump is launching a targeted cruise missile attack on Syrian air bases. It's hard to know if that's the right move or not, although I'm sure part of the decision was simply to "do something." We all want to "do something" ... it's just hard to know what to do.

As leaders form their plans, God loving people around the world are called to pray for peace and wise leadership ... earnest prayers that human suffering might end and sanity might prevail.

We pray that pride-based systems might fail and heartless dictators might be displaced. We pray that "justice might roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream" (Amos 5:24) ... that God's kingdom of peace might supplant earthly kingdoms of hate ... that Christians around the world might hold the candle of truth and bear arms of mercy for all ... that refugees might be comforted rather than demonized, and a new generation of peace-loving leaders might rise up rather than be gunned down.

This Sunday in worship we again read the story of Jesus, the ultimate victim of brutality, hatred, and violence. He understands the cry of the oppressed and feels the pain of the persecuted. He has escaped political violence and lived as a refugee. He's been hungry, homeless, falsely accused, imprisoned, beaten, tortured, abandoned by his friends, ridiculed by the authorities, and executed for a crime he didn't commit.

What that means is that Jesus has been in the shoes of the Syrian refugee. He's felt the pierce of a spear to the side. He's been in the arms of a mother holding her lifeless child.

As close as a mother hen is to her brood, we are reminded that God does not abandon the forsaken ... and he begs the same of us. In this time of chaos, may we do as Christ and draw close to the broken-hearted, that we might proclaim with the psalmist, "I have not kept the good news of your justice hidden in my heart" (Psalm 40:10 NLT).

I wish there was an easy answer to this mess. Unfortunately there's not. In the meantime, this prayer of St. Francis:

Make us worthy, Lord, to serve our fellow men throughout the world,who live and die in poverty and hunger.Give them through our hands, this day, their daily breadand by our understanding love, give peace and joy.

 Amen.