Ministry in Motion

God with us. Not God after we have it together, not God once the noise settles or the grief resolves, but God here , in the mess and the hurry, in homes where joy and sorrow share the same table. Advent dares us to believe that Emmanuel does not wait for ideal conditions. He enters real ones. Emmanuel is found in the ordinary and easily overlooked: the quiet flicker of a Christmas candle, lights strung in celebration, ornaments hung on the tree with great care and fond memories. The familiar aroma of a favorite meal, the laughter that rises unexpectedly and reminds us we are still alive. These are not distractions from holiness; they are places where God chooses to dwell. Small moments become thin places when we slow enough to notice. The gift of Christmas is not wrapped in spectacle or certainty, but in vulnerability: swaddling clothes, a borrowed manger, a child who comes needing care. God’s nearness is gentle and unforced, inviting rather than demanding. Christ comes not to rescue...

  Love. 🎵 ... What the world needs now is love sweet love … 🎶 Four candles decorate the outer edges of the Advent wreath, and one white candle sits in the middle, the Christ candle. On this final Sunday of Advent 2025 we bring light to the third purple candle, the candle of love.   For God so loved, He gave.  Love plays a vital role in the Christmas story. Perhaps Love is the greatest of all the virtues on the Advent wreath . It encompasses Jesus’ entire purpose for being on earth, to bring hope, peace and joy in the embodiment of Love. If Advent love arrived not as sentiment but as interruption, would you be willing to risk something costly: Your comfort? Your schedule, or your control, in order to make room for Christ? Pkes

One of the classic themes of Advent is joy . Today on this third Sunday of Advent we light the pink candle of Joy, also called the Shepherd’s Candle. We are called to remember the delight the shepherds felt when they first heard the good news of Christ’s birth. Joy to the world, the Lord is come Let earth receive her King Let every heart prepare Him room And heaven and nature sing. Advent joy isn’t shallow or fleeting. It springs from trusting God and His promises, even in the midst of life’s challenges, and from sharing life with others in meaningful community. When we receive something that brings genuine joy, we can’t help but share it. Joy has a way of bubbling up and spilling out. When was a moment you remember feeling pure, unfiltered joy?  Pkes  

Peace I leave with you; my pease I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.  John 14:27 Peace can often feel like a distant ideal in a world shaped by turmoil, uncertainty, and conflict. Yet Advent reminds us that true peace is anchored in the coming of Christ, a composure, a calmness, that remains steady even when everything around us feels unsteady. One of my favorite moments of the Christmas Eve service arrives at the very end. The overhead lights fade to darkness, leaving only the soft glow of the Advent candles at the front of the sanctuary. Someone steps forward and lights a small hand-held candle from the Christ candle—the center flame of Advent. He turns and shares that light with his neighbor, who then passes it to the next person, and slowly a warm glow spreads across the room. As the candles begin to shine, voices start to sing “Silent Night,” and soon the entire congregation joins in, the harmony growing...

Today we light the candle of Hope.  What if the hope Advent calls us to isn’t about wishing for better circumstances,  but daring to believe that God is already at work in the places that feel most hopeless? Pause. Be still. Reflect: consider Hope as a light that grows in the dark, inviting you to face the shadows with courage and watch for the first flicker of God’s coming... Pkes  

Advent comes from the Latin word adventus —“arrival.” It holds both memory and promise. We look back to the humble birth of Jesus, and we look ahead with quiet longing to His return. Advent is a season of holy anticipation, a stretch of days marked not by hurry, but by hope. It’s a time of watching and waiting, of lighting candles in the dark, of drawing a little nearer to the God who has already drawn near to us. In these Advent days, I feel the invitation to slow down, to breathe, to make space in a heart that so easily fills with noise, and to remember that the Light we ache for is already on the way. He is always coming toward us. Each week, the candles speak: Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. Come, long-expected Jesus. Come into our waiting, our longing, our celebrations, and our shadows. Make room in us again for Your arrival … Pkes  

Lord, In this season of gratitude, we pause to remember  that every good gift comes from You. Thank You for Your faithfulness, Your provision,  and the people who bless our lives. Fill our hearts with humility and  joy as we give thanks. Amen.  

  How open are we to the Spirit not just visiting—but descending and remaining? The Apostle John wrote: Then John (the baptist) gave this testimony: “ I saw the Spirit come down from   heaven as a dove and remain on him.  ‘The man on whom you see the Spirit come down and remain is the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit.’  I have seen and I testify that this is God’s Chosen One.” The Spirit “remaining” reveals a new kind of anointing.  In the Old Testament, the Spirit often came  upon  people temporarily for a task. But here, the Spirit  remains  on Jesus—signifying a constant, abiding presence. This marks Jesus as uniquely and permanently filled with the Spirit, not just empowered for a moment, but dwelling in full communion with the Father. Consider:  Are we seeking a momentary experience, or an abiding relationship with the trinity: Father, Son and Holy Spirit?…pkes

  More Than the Sum Am I more than the sum of what I’ve said or done? Each week, I read a line from our communion liturgy that always stops me in my tracks: “…You (God) forgive time and again; But we hold fast to the sins of others (and ourselves)” There’s something painfully honest about that. We cling to our failures. We memorize the mistakes of others. We carry the weight of every careless word, every regretful decision, every unmet expectation. But what if God doesn’t keep that kind of score? Richard Rohr once wrote: “Perfection is not the elimination of imperfection, as we think. Divine perfection is, in fact, the ability to recognize, forgive, and include imperfection—just as God does with all of us.” That truth is both unsettling and liberating. It tells me I’m not called to pretend perfection, but to live in the wide-open space of grace. The Apostle Paul pleaded repeatedly with God to take away his “thorn”—that weakness or struggle he couldn’t shake. And God said no. Not be...