Matthew, Mark, Luke and Susan
We’re glad you’re here!
Welcome to the weekly blog for Burlington East Presbyterian Church.
First things first: feel free to fill in your name instead of Susan. John might already be taken.
Here, you’ll find a weekly reflection which I hope will give you an opportunity to stop for a few minutes, to see yourself in God’s story of our own lives, of the community, and of creation. We’ll be thinking about what it means to live in God’s love for each of us, to grow as disciples and to follow Christ. If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to email me at [email protected].
Looking forward to journeying with you.
Peace in Christ,
Susan
November 7, 2024
Epilogue
John 21:24-25 This reading takes place at the end of the gospel of John, and it’s kind of wonderful.
The disciple is the one who told all of this. He wrote it, and we know he is telling the truth. Jesus did many other things. If they were all written in books, I don’t suppose there would be room enough in the whole world for all of the adventures.
So admit it–how often have you saved that last handful of popcorn for the scenes after the closing credits in a movie? The scenes that hint at the next sequel, reveal a story only mentioned in the plot? And how often have you been disappointed when there aren’t scenes after the closing credits?
Epilogues, for me, are one of the most fascinating parts of a book or movie. They are the resolution of what happens after–sometimes years down the road, sometimes immediately after. Traditionally, the epilogue doesn’t introduce anything that wasn’t hinted at in the story already, even though we (or some of the characters) may have missed those hints.
True epilogues grow out of the stories that were already there. In the gospel of John, the disciple (probably John) has told a story to his community that is passed on. But in writing the truth, we see that in all of the gospels, we only have a part of the story. Jesus’ life and ministry have so many other parts that we have never heard about. So the gospel writer leaves us with an epilogue: There is so much more to this Jesus. Keep going. Keep discovering. That word is written for all of us as we live out our lives in Jesus Christ. We’re not all perfect–but Jesus is still doing many other things in you and I and in the world today.
You and I are part of a story that spans eternity. As Christians, we are an epilogue whose elements were planted in the life of Christ, and the story never ends.
We’re going to need more popcorn.
As we munch, we can take more time to humbly share and listen to the stories that flow out of our life in Christ. As we are made in God’s image, we are given choice. What parts of the Jesus story are planted in you, and how are we living them out?
Where have we chosen to step out of the story? Here’s the good news: Jesus Christ loves it when people step back in. Have a look at Luke 15:11-32.
This week, as we celebrate Remembrance Day, as we think about elections and what comes next, as we try to figure out what next steps to take in our lives, there are a lot of stories swirling around, and it can be confusing to live in all those narratives at once, important as they are. So as we think about the epilogue in the gospel of John, be blessed by this: Jesus’ story is still being told in you and I as we seek to follow Christ. You are an intrinsic part of the “what happens after” epilogue in God’s story because Jesus loves you and gave his life for you. You are needed in this story, wanted, loved, called to be here–and all of the elements for your hope and life are already in the story God has for you. It will have joy, sadness, hope, lots of grace, a love that can conquer anything, peace, challenge and will change the world.
Peace in Christ,
Susan
Photo and content © Susan Kerr 2024. May not be reproduced or circulated without permission of the author. Artwork “Yield” © Susan Kerr 2012
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October 23, 2024
Blog 8 Masks
I’m watching our neighbourhood transform into mounds of orange blow up pumpkins, spiderwebs and some scary stuff. The conversation on the school busses and in the parent/guardian’s huddle at the bus stop is all about what costumes will be worn, and who will be giving out treats. There doesn’t seem to be as much enthusiasm about the inflatable dinosaur costumes as there was last year.
It’s a season of masks and dressing up.
Sometimes, that’s a lot of fun. There are times when we like having a chance to dress up, do something different.
Then again, there are times when we have to put on a mask just to get through a day or event. When we have to appear brave, bold, and confident when doing a marketing presentation and we’re actually scared that we might have missed something.
When we have to put on a smile and hold back tears because we’ve just heard a comment that hurt so much, but reacting to it will only make the situation worse or put us in danger.
When we have to tell others we’re fine, and we’re not.
There are seasons of masks in our lives. While there is a lot of emphasis on living authentically these days, the reality is that sometimes we are not in a safe space to do that. Many in the world need to wear masks for self-protection, for mental health, for saving something of themselves until they can get to a safe place to express what they need. I get it. I’ve had to do that sometimes too, because we humans can’t always trust that there is a safe space around us in a given moment of vulnerability.
Here’s the thing.
In the way God sees us, masks are off. God in interested in you and loves you. Just you, just as you are. No masks necessary. In Jesus, there is a safe space, there is One who knows you and I deeply and loves us just the way we are, in the moment we are in. There is no need for a mask because Christ knows the real face we have and loves it. After all, it’s one of his best works. As a Friend who knows us well, Christ would rather see our tears, see our awkward smiles or teeth gritted in a moment of frustration than be looking at something we put over our face or heart, thinking we can hide.
In Christ, we are free of our masks, and living authentically can truly begin.
In the church, in this group of disciples trying to follow Christ, we are working hard to make our community a place where masks are not needed because all of us are loved for who we are, in the moment we are in. It doesn’t mean we don’t have boundaries when needed. It does mean that we can live authentically and safely, expressing needs for prayer or health or joy or hope or concerns or identity safely within this community because each person is created in the image of God.
So gently, gently, we can put the masks down because we won’t need them anymore, and we are seen face to face in Christ.
There is a great verse in the Rich Mullin’s song “Peace (a Communion Blessing from St Joseph’s Square)” that captures this, I think. It’s a song about one person inviting another to communion, to celebrate Christ’s life, death and resurrection even though the person inviting might not know what they other person brings to the table.
Though we’re strangers, still I love you
I love you more than your mask
And I know you have to trust this to be true
And I know it’s much to ask.
So lay down your fears, come and join this feast
He has called us here
You and me. (from the album “A Liturgy, A Legacy, and a Ragamuffin Band, 1993)
May you know and be constantly reminded of Christ’s love for you this week, just as you are.
Peace and blessings,
Susan
Photo and content ©Susan Kerr 2024. May not be reproduced or circulated without permission of the author.