Remembering Bob Marsh
A longtime champion of Theological Horizons, Rev. Dr. C. Robert Marsh believed passionately in the ministry’s “unique contribution to the moral and intellectual debates of our time.”
We celebrate his life and legacy with much gratitude.
The Rev. Dr. Charles Robert Marsh, a Southern Baptist minister who served as senior pastor at Atlanta’s Second Ponce de Leon Baptist Church from 1978 to 1993, died on December 23 while in hospice care at Lenbrook in Atlanta, Georgia. Marsh, a passionate teacher of the Bible, and a local religious leader in the desegregation of public schools in the South, was 92-years old.
Marsh began his pastoral career with a chronic stutter and fear of public speaking, but through fierce self-discipline became an eloquent and beloved preacher in an older, gentler evangelical culture. That self-discipline included long jogs through the streets of the southern towns he served with the typed manuscript of the sermon in his hand. Mile after mile, in his mismatched jersey and sweatpants, he read the text aloud until he had memorized each line and was ready to take the pulpit on Sunday mornings, where he would deliver the forty-five-minute message by heart with only his red leather King James Bible in hand.
“You and I are able to gather here in this beautiful sanctuary today only because the early church reckoned with the revolutionary ramifications of God’s amazing grace and tore down the barriers of prejudice,” Marsh said in one influential sermon on the theological necessity of ending an Alabama church’s whites-only, closed-door policy.
That sermon was the culmination of a month-long study series on the Bible and racial reconciliation, focusing on Paul’s theme of Christ the reconciler, that Marsh had convened after some white congregants objected when a Black family asked to join the 3,500-member First Baptist Church of Dothan, Alabama. The weekly studies, attended regularly by 150-200 church members, concluded with the sermon, “Amazing Grace for Every Race,” and, in turn, with the congregation’s acceptance of a Black family from Queens, New York, and a standing ovation.
“As Gentiles,” Marsh told the congregation, “You and I would never have become a member of the New Testament church, unless God, through the Holy Spirit, sent Philip to a Black man, sent Ananias to a Middle Eastern man, sent Peter to the man from Western Europe; and sent amazing grace to every race.”
The sermon marks one of many small acts of individual conscience that brought southern segregation in its extralegal forms to an end.
Charles Robert Marsh was born on July 17, 1932, in New Orleans, Louisiana, the first child of Howard and Elisabeth Marsh. When his father completed his optometry apprenticeship in the Crescent City, the family moved to Jackson, Mississippi, where Howard established a successful practice with locations downtown on Capitol Street and another on North State Street. His mother was a high-spirited woman who loved bridge and crime novels and held various positions in the Optimist Club of Jackson.
Marsh was raised in a nominally religious family that occasionally attended the Capital Street Methodist Church, but that preferred to spend Sundays fishing at the reservoir.
As a senior at Central High School, Marsh made a public profession of his faith in Jesus Christ in one of Billy Graham’s services in his 1952 crusade at the Jackson Fairgrounds. Following his born-again experience, Marsh became active in Youth for Christ ministries. On the encouragement of the group leader, matriculated as a freshman at Bob Jones University in Greenville, South Carolina, the flagship school of southern fundamentalism, where it was joked, “a girl could be expelled for streaking with a hole in the knee of her bathing suit.” After receiving enough demerits to be permanently “campused” for a month – mostly for missing curfew or flunking room inspection – Marsh transferred to Baylor University where he double-majored in Bible and history.
In 1954, Marsh met the love of his life, Myra Brooks Toler, a native Jacksonian and former Miss Central High School. Bob and Myra were married in June 1955 at First Presbyterian Church in Jackson, by which time Bob had been ordained as a Souther Baptist minister.
His first pastorate was at the First Baptist Church of Florence, Mississippi, just south of Jackson, which enabled Myra to continue her studies in theology and English literature at Belhaven College. On the Sunday after their honeymoon to Fort Walton Beach, Florida, the newly minted Reverend Marsh baptized his newlywed in full immersion, according to the requirements of Baptist polity.
While serving full-time as the pastor of the Spring Hill Avenue Baptist Church in Mobile, Alabama, 1958 -1963, and the First Baptist Church of Andalusia, Alabama, 1963-1967, Marsh continued his graduate studies in practical theology and completed his doctoral dissertation at New Orleans Baptist Seminary on “Paul’s Concept of the Person and Its Implications for Christian Education” – traveling by train on the old L&N every Tuesday from Evergreen to New Orleans and back again to Alabama late Thursday night. He graduated with a Doctorate in Education in the spring 1967.
The same year, Marsh returned to Mississippi, accepting the call of pastor of the First Baptist Church of Laurel, which occupied a multi-acre lot between a vibrant downtown and a neighborhood of stately homes. Home to the White Knights of the Ku Klux Klan of Mississippi, Laurel was also a town caught in the whirlwind of the civil rights movement.
With support of several white parishioners, including Charles Pickering, who would later be named by President George H. W. Bush as a federal judge to the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, Marsh supported the integration of public schools, refusing to join a small group of white families that formed a private “Christian” academy. Marsh’s views on Christian responsibility in society were inspired by numerous experiences: observing one of his seminary professors in New Orleans in a segregated streetcar condemn the absurdity of the whole ordeal; and visiting L’Abri, Edith and Francis Schaeffer’s Christian commune in Huemoz, Switzerland. Marsh would say that his greatest inspiration was the example of Billy Graham, who, during his 1952 Jackson Crusade, had removed the red segregation rope that separated black and white worshippers and said: “It touches my heart when I see whites stand shoulder to shoulder with blacks at the foot of the cross.”
These years and experiences would form the narrative arc of his pastoral vision: to show how the power of the Gospel should burn through the barriers of nationality, region, and race, and how people become “ambassadors of reconciliation.”
On July 23, 1978, the search committee of Atlanta’s Second Ponce de Leon Baptist Church, chaired by Lee Burge, then the CEO of Equifax, presented their recommendation to the congregation to call Robert Marsh as the fourth pastor of the esteemed congregation on Peachtree Road. A week later, the committee introduced their new minister as Dr. C. Robert Marsh, a name he had never before used, though church members from earlier days continued to call him “Brother Bob.”
Marsh’s tenure in the influential pulpit assured him of keynote addresses at denominational events and membership on high-level boards and denominational agencies, as well as an honorary doctorate from Mercer University. In May 1980, he and author Madeleine L’Engle shared the stage at commencement ceremonies at Gordon College, in Wenham, Massachusetts. But nothing fulfilled Marsh more deeply than preaching and teaching to his congregation and going about the ordinary tasks of parish life.
Marsh’s fifteen years at “Second Ponce” were marked by success and growth amid the challenges of pastoring a prosperous southern church in a developing global city. Under Marsh’s leadership, “Second Ponce” become the denomination’s most reliable supporter of missionary activity at home and abroad, consistently leading the Georgia Baptist Convention in gifts to the Cooperative Program. “Missions was Marsh’s ‘first love,’ and an increased emphasis on missions was a natural extension of the historic focus of the identity of the church,” the historian Douglas Weaver wrote in his congregational history of the Atlanta church. Such largesse was possible because the church, during the Marsh years, reached historic levels of general budget giving – hitting the two-million-dollar mark in 1982 and three million in 1987, with an additional two million dollars raised for the proposed six and a half million-dollar Family Life Center, which was completed in 1990.
Marsh maintained a low political profile during the cataclysmic years of the Southern Baptist culture wars.
He sought to illumine a third way beyond doctrinaire fundamentalism and “moderate” denominational alternatives. The third way was not always clearly delineated, and some of his non-fundamentalist colleagues wished that he would use his influence to defend the moderate camp. At the same time, he rejected the rigid doctrine of biblical inerrancy and affirmed instead the more generous doctrine of Biblical infallibility. He supported Second Ponce’s successful move to ordain women deacons, with nine women elected in 1992. He poured resources into the church’s languishing “inner city” ministries and helped reboot the church’s Vietnamese Ministry, hiring a full time pastor for the Vietnamese-speaking congregation, sponsoring ESL and job-coaching programs, and creating networks of hospitality and support for the influx of refugees arriving in Atlanta through the U.S. Political Prisoners Relocation Program. He provided office space in Second Ponce’s educational wing for Baptist scholars who had been pushed out of their teaching posts by the new fundamentalist leaders. He remained loyal to the historic Baptist separation between church and state; he did not speak publicly on abortion, school prayer, or sexual orientation. His criticisms of the U. S. preemptive invasion of Iraq were based not on liberal political views but on his sense of loyalty to the missionaries and Christian communities in the Middle East. Indeed, in Marsh’s view, loyalty to the global Body of Christ remained the only antidote against Christian nationalism.
Four decades of ministry in a changing South took their toll. “Pastoral burn-out,” sheer exhaustion, and its attendant emotional upheavals led Marsh to resign from SPDL, to the surprise of many, in March 1993. Without the consolations of the pulpit, Marsh struggled to imagine a future beyond Second Ponce.
Eventually, Marsh’s resignation would lead to the most fulfilling chapter in his seven-decade ministry.
Beginning in Stuttgart, Germany, in 1994, Bob and Myra became true co-pastors, bringing their distinctive gifts of empathy and encouragement to Christian congregations in Copenhagen, Rome, Berlin, and Stavanger, Norway, where they served in different capacities as interim ministers. They spoke at the annual European Baptist convention in Interlaken, Switzerland, in dozens of smaller gatherings in western and eastern Europe – including Macedonia and Ukraine – and visited with believers beyond Europe in Dubai, India, Liberia, South Africa, Columbia, Peru, Ecuador, Brazil, and Argentina. They developed friendships with Wycliffe Translators, Pioneer Missions, World Vision, and the European Baptist Convention. In the final ten years of his overseas ministry, Marsh entered into a generative partnership with Barnabas International that enabled financial support and oversight and opened new doors of Christian fellowship.
Letters and emails to friends and supporters back in the States conveyed the joys and discoveries of international Christian fellowship:
“Yesterday, I spent the entire afternoon at the Vienna Christian Center, speaking to a large group of women from across the city, mostly African immigrants. There was much praise, music, joy, and laughter (3 hours to be exact), as I taught from Psalm 73. Everyday has been filled with building bridges of friendship, being with people, and striving to share the love of Christ with precious people in this strategic city,” wrote Marsh sometime in the mid-90’s.
Marsh’s final chapter in ministry returned him to his first love of teaching the Bible in a local church in the South. Until shortly after his 90th birthday, he served as one of four teachers in an adult Sunday School Class of 100 – 150 members and wrote short theological essays in his “Bob’s Blog” for the Anchor website: https://anchorss.org/bobs-blog/.
Marsh is survived by his wife of 69 years, Myra Brooks, née Toler; brother Richard Scott Marsh of Florence, Mississippi; son Charles Robert Marsh, Jr., and daughter-in-law Karen Wright Marsh of Charlottesville, Virginia; and three grandchildren, Henry Brooks Marsh of Brooklyn, New York; William Toler Marsh of New Orleans, Louisiana; and Nan Elisabeth Marsh of Richmond, Virginia.
His son Charles, who holds the Commonwealth Professor of Religious Studies at the University of Virginia, wrote in a 1999 memoir about his father as a Baptist preacher at the dawn of a new South:
“My father’s way was never to break the bonds of friendship. He remained loyal to his church, to those he was called to serve, whether he liked the person or not. He built trust with people over meat-and-twos, football games, ice cream socials, and youth camps – in the ordinariness of the New Humanity.”
A celebration of Marsh’s life will be held at Peachtree Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, Georgia, on Monday, January 13, at 2:00. In lieu of flowers, the family kindly requests that gifts be made to the C. Robert Marsh Pavilion Fund of Theological Horizons, at http://www.theologicalhorizons.org/giving. Donations may also be given through the University of Virginia, designated to Theological Horizons and made in Dr. Marsh’s memory using this same link.
Charles Marsh
January 6, 2025
Feast of the Epiphany
Before the Rush resources
Sorority rush begins at UVA--a process that sparks many urgent questions: Who are my friends? Where do I find my identity? Am I beautiful? How do I deal with stress and disappointment? with judgement? Where is God in all of this? These are questions that we all ask throughout our lives!
As students return to the university, we want share two precious resources: short audio talks that are just one click away. Listen to these talks from our past "Beat The Rush" events.
These talks for ALL women students--whether you are rushing a sorority, in a sorority already, not in a sorority! Like me, you are seeking love, acceptance, friendship...and struggling with insecurity, fear and doubts. It is so important to be reminded of how very beautiful and loved you are. So do yourself a favor and listen up...
The first talk is by Susan Cunningham on "Finding Your True Identity". Susan was named Best Psychologist in Charlottesville, and her words are so wise and so kind...Don't miss the truth about who YOU really are. Click HERE to listen to Susan's talk.
The second talk is by Miska Collier on "Knowing the Light and Love of God". Miska is a spiritual counselor--30 seconds into her talk you'll be hooked. Click HERE to listen to Miska's talk.
Karen Wright Marsh, Executive Director
Fall 2024 Highlight Reel!
Please enjoy this video celebrating a semester savoring the presence of God, seeking wisdom from the communion of saints, and sharing fellowship in our vibrant community. Hear students’ stories about TH’s enriching role in their lives, peek into the Bonhoeffer House during our beloved Vintage Lunches, and glimpse the fellowship at events with our board and broader community.
As we reflect on the semester, we thank God for His sustaining grace, steady guidance, and abundant blessings this fall at our gatherings in Charlottesville, across the country at Saints of the City and speaking engagements, and through cherished digital connections with friends around the world.
Filled with gratitude, we wish our whole TH family a truly joyous new year relishing the thrill of hope that Jesus infuses into the world year-round through the empowerment of the Holy Spirit in the life of His people. We eagerly await His continued guidance, provision, and inspiration in our life together in 2025, as we celebrate 25 years at the University of Virginia and look to the future with gladness.
Dear White Peacemakers | Grace Jackson ‘25
Last semester the Perkins Fellows read a book together called Dear White Peacemakers by Osheta Moore. One of the best parts of being a Perkins Fellow at UVA for multiple years is getting to read and reread some really wonderful books. In my second time reading Osheta’s book, her posture towards her white counterparts in justice work really stood out to me. My good friend and fellow Perkins Fellow, Megnot Abebe, challenged me to write my own letter to White Peacemakers. This was not a challenge I wanted to receive, but writing it was important work for my soul. As a White person myself, I often struggle to see myself as a Peacemaker or Beloved. Osheta encourages me (and hopefully you too!) to see the belovedness in every individual: my friends, my family, myself, and strangers alike. My words in this letter are honest and raw. I hope I can encourage you to be honest as well. More importantly, I hope to affirm your Belovedness.
Dear White Peacemaker,
I’m sorry for all the ways I judge you and look down on you. For assuming the worst in you. I’m sorry.
To the White lady in the kufiya screaming at the police, blocks away from where Prime Minister Netanyahu was speaking to congress: I’m sorry I turned to my liberal White friend beside me, raising my eyebrows and smirking. You scare me a little because I see myself in you. In 40 years I could be the White liberal spewing words just as hateful as what I am protesting against. I don’t want to be so tone deaf.
To my White friends who refer to any kind of service as “giving back”: I’m sorry I cringe when you say things like this. It’s just that we’re not “giving back” like this is some kind of transaction. And if it were, our ancestors have spent centuries stealing land and brutalizing bodies, minds, and souls, so we’d have to get a lot more serious if we wanted to start “giving back” what we have taken (which I am all for, but that’s a conversation for another time). I don’t want to be scared about how each of my words could be twisted, trying to be politically correct like you. I’m sorry I’m twisting your words right now and not listening to the compassion that you are trying to express.
To my White friends who study cultures, languages, races, and traditions from which you do not come, but spend every waking moment with your White friends, White families, White coworkers, and White boyfriends: I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you say you care about the same things I do, but commit to such a homogenous community. I am sorry for judging you based on who you spend time with; I should not judge a person’s commitment to justice (At all! Full stop.) … by the perceived Whiteness and richness of their circles.
To my White friends who don’t engage at all: I won’t lie, I understand you the least. But I know your apathy doesn’t come from a lack of goodness, mercy, love, and justice. Even if that last word scares you, I know it’s because you’re scared to say the wrong thing or cause more division. I’m sorry that I am angry and impatient with you.
White Peacemaker, I lay before you my honest confessions because, honestly, I have been you and I am still you. I have fit into each of these above categories before, and I’m sure I will continue to land in each one as I stumble along this path we call life. I easily become the raging White liberal, but I am also inclined to letting apathy or fear immobilize me. In each of us, there are strengths to celebrate and weaknesses we can hold each other accountable for.
In my journey to resist White supremacy culture, be in relationship with people across all lines of difference, and reject a lifestyle of homogeneity and complacency, I can so easily reject you, White Peacemaker. And, in a way, reject myself too. I’m sorry. And I want to grow beyond this false binary I put myself in.
White Peacemaker, it is hard for me to write this letter because I see myself in each of you. I see each of my own flaws magnified, so I lash out with sharp words against you and me both. I don’t want to end here, in frustration, as I too often do. In the spirit of Osheta Moore, I want to end by affirming your (our) Belovedness, and thanking you for being you.
To the furious friends: I see you. I’m sorry you are filled with such rage. Thank you for taking your anger to the streets.
To the “giving back” friends: I see you. I’m sorry nobody has taught you that your pursuit of justice is not about what you can accomplish but that our flourishing is collective and deeply intertwined with all of humanity, rooted in our universal Belovedness as children of God. Thank you for your hard work.
To the studious friends: I see you. I’m sorry for judging you. Thank you for allowing your mind and degree and career to be shaped by what is true and right and just.
To the quiet friends: I am trying to see you. I’m sorry for giving up trying to talk to you about the deeper things of life. Thank you for your sensitive heart.
White Peacemaker, I believe there is more in you. I say this because time and time again, Peacemakers of all races have seen my brokenness, affirmed my Belovedness, and have called me to higher. In my own expressions of rage, ignorance, fear, and apathy, I have been seen, fully. I have been forgiven, somehow. I have been thanked for the good despite it all. And I have been invited into this kingdom work. White Peacemaker, will you join me in building? There is room for the loud dismantlers, careful carpenters, and timid painters alike. And I’ll tell you a secret: you don’t have to be perfect to pick up a hammer.
With love,
Grace Jackson
A fellow White Peacemaker
Fionette King ‘26 | Reflections on Hope
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” - Romans 15:13
The Bible reminds us that God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. In this world that we face, through pain and struggle, the most important thing for us to remember is the hope we have in Jesus for a brighter tomorrow. As life throws challenges at us that test our faith and resilience, let us rest in the knowledge that we are more thanconquerors, and that Jesus is our living hope.
Prior to becoming a Perkins Fellow, I did not yet grasp how deeply I would come to care about fostering change and building healthier, more just communities. Over time, my journey has opened my eyes to the incredible work being done, both on grand scales and in small, often unseen ways. Every day, I am struck by the resilience and creativity of people working tirelessly to plant seeds of transformation. Yet, as I reflect on this, I am convinced that such efforts are rooted in something far greater: the hope that God places within us, coupled with our willingness to act on that hope. Without this divine gift, our capacity to envision and work toward a better future would falter.
It is easy to become discouraged when we see all of the pain and strife that takes place around the world. The weight of injustice can lead us to despair, threatening to extinguish our drive to pursue a more compassionate society. In all this, scripture always reassures us. Isaiah 40:31 states, “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” As fallen humans, hope is not something we can retain in our own power. Naturally, we are prone to discouragement and our hope burns out quickly. It is only in God’s power that we remain able to work towards healthier communities in bold faith and divine courage.
Hope is a muscle that we train through fervent prayer and resilient action. It is a contagious spirit that flows from us as we continue to work and learn together. Let us be encouraged by the work being done, but never grow complacent. God has emboldened us to be changemakers and shine His light by loving on the communities around us.
New Years Day | A Blessing
Greetings and gratitude on this New Year’s Day!
As we enter into this new year, we do so with gratitude for so many provisions. But, we also come with uncertainty and losses carried with us. May this Scripture and Blessing offer you strength and courage as you begin again.
A Blessing for a New Year
On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.
And when your eyes
Freeze behind
The grey window
And the ghost of loss
Gets in to you,
May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green,
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak
To mind your life.
-John O’Donohue
With thankful hearts,
From all of us at Theological Horizons
The Benefits of Generosity
As we enter into a season of giving, we at TH loved learning about the benefits of our impulse to be generous.
After decades of research that assumed human nature to be intrinsically selfish and aggressive, recent years have seen the emergence of a more complex and nuanced understanding of the science of generosity. While studies suggest that humans have a propensity for self-interest, research has also revealed that currents of generosity run deep within us.
Learn about some of the important results that researchers have learned about the benefits of generosity in this infographic.*
Christmas Eve | Advent with Bonhoeffer
“...In Jesus you are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy…” (1 Peter 1:8)
Christmas Joy
Joy to the world!
For the sake of humankind, Jesus Christ became a human being in a stable in Bethlehem:
Rejoice, O Christendom!...
For all of us, Jesus Christ was resurrected to life:
Rejoice, O Christendom!...
All over the world today people are asking:
Where is the path to joy?
The church of Christ answers loudly:
Jesus is our joy!
Joy to the world!
– Dietrich Bonhoeffer
May you and yours be filled with the inexpressible and glorious joy of Jesus Christ this Christmas!
4th Sunday in Advent with Bonhoeffer
“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” John 1:14
INCARNATION
On December 21, 1930, the 24 year old pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer preached to a German-speaking church in Havana, Cuba. Nearly 100 years later, his words speak to our hearts:
“Mighty God” is the name of this child, the child in the manger who is none other than God himself. Nothing greater can be said: God became a child. In the Jesus child of Mary lives the almighty God.
Wait a minute! Don’t speak; stop thinking! Stand still before this statement! God became a child! Here Jesus is: poor like us, miserable and helpless like us, a person of flesh and blood like us, our brother. And yet he is God; he is might.
Now it is true that in three days, Christmas will come once again. The great transformation will once again happen. God would have it so. Out of the waiting, hoping, longing world, a world will come in which the promise is given. All crying will be stilled. No tears will flow. No lonely sorrow shall afflict us or threaten us anymore…
Can you heed Bonhoeffer’s command to “wait a minute! Don’t speak; stop thinking”?
Take 3 uninterrupted minutes (or more!) to meditate upon this: God became a child! Here Jesus is: poor like us, miserable and helpless like us, a person of flesh and blood like us, our brother. And yet Jesus is God; he is might.
In three days the “great transformation” will happen again. What images or emotions come up as you read Bonhoeffer’s description of the coming world in which the promise is given?
How might these reflections shift your experience of the days to come?
3rd Sunday in Advent with Bonhoeffer
“Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” Luke 21:28
REDEMPTION
In a 1933 Advent sermon, Dietrich Bonhoeffer vividly describes a mine disaster that was currently in the news. Can you imagine yourself inside this story?
The moment even the most courageous miner has dreaded his whole life is here. It’s no use running into walls; the silence all around him remains…The way out for him is blocked. He knows the people up there are working feverishly to reach the miners who are buried alive….An agonizing period of waiting and dying is all that remains.
But suddenly a noise that sounds like tapping and breaking in the rock can be heard. Unexpectedly, voices cry out, “Where are you? Help is on the way!” Then the disheartened miner picks himself up, his heart leaps, he shouts, “Here I am, come on through and help me! I’ll hold out until you come! Just come soon!” A final desperate hammer blow, now the rescue is near, just one more step and he is free.
We have spoken of Advent itself. That is how it is with the coming of Christ: “Look up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
Where in your own life or in the world around you is there entrapment and fear? Where are you losing hope?
Enter into prayer now, listening and waiting. Can you hear Jesus calling, “Where are you? Help is on the way!” What do you say in response?
How might the coming of Jesus Christ at Christmas bring rescue and release in your situation?
Look up. Raise your head. Hold on. Your redemption is drawing near.
From Perfectionism to Peace this Christmas
a talk given to the Middleburg Bible Study | Karen Wright Marsh | Dec. 5, 2024
A note from Karen: It was a true delight to be with the wonderful women of Middleburg, Virginia, and their Bible study community. I just had to share these words from our time together. May they bring you presence…and peace this Advent!
One week ago today was Thanksgiving….
At this hour last Thursday, we were roasting turkey, mashing potatoes, finishing off the gravy, calling folks to the table -- to give thanks.
Now Christmas is just 20 days away and I’m already getting the question, “Are you ready for Christmas?” Uh, no….There's still a pumpkin on my front step. Students are coming to the Bonhoeffer House tomorrow for our final weekly Theological Horizons lunch and will be arriving to decorate a tree that, if all goes to plan, I will pick up on the way back to Charlottesville today. I hope that I know where to find that box of ornaments.
Here we go – ready or not - headlong into the hap - happiest time of the year.
As I anticipate the 20 Advent days ahead, I’m thinking of four other women – two Marthas and two Marys.
Last weekend I ran into a photo of the first Martha looking flushed and happy – as I sorted through boxes of old books. There she was on the cover of my 1989 edition of Martha Stewart’s Christmas in which she chronicles her own preparations for Christmas, beginning with the mixing of 10 enormous plum puddings the day after Thanksgiving and concluding with a sumptuous Christmas Day dinner. Martha builds wreaths and topiaries, creates cookies, cakes, jellies and jams, paints her own wrapping paper, fills gift baskets with homemade goodies, and makes ornaments to decorate the trees (one in each room of her house, of course). She whips up a croquembouche and then a vat of cassoulet for her annual holiday party, and, after all that, wakes up early on Christmas morning to cook brunch. True to form, Martha has achieved Christmas perfection!
I would never aspire to match the over-the-top-ness of this lifestyle icon Martha Stewart, but part of me does want to try making her gingerbread mansion complete with a gilded roof. Though I know I won’t…Maybe next year I’ll come closer to putting on that perfectly perfect holiday.
In the meantime, sitting on the floor amidst my books, I imagined another woman – a girl, really, and an unexpectedly pregnant one. Mary, just a young teenager.
If you’d asked this Mary, weeks before she was to give birth to Jesus, how she would design her idea of a perfect first ever Christmas - I imagine she would have wished to be safe at home with her mother in Nazareth – or alongside her older cousin Elizabeth, the infant John in her arms: another new mother. Elizabeth, who would comfort her with wise words about the coming labor, and assure Mary that she’d call the midwives when the time came. I am certain that Mary would long to be surrounded by family and friends, people she knew and loved who would welcome Jesus into the family, congratulate Mary on a beautiful son, assure her that Joseph was a good man who would care for them both.
But Mary did not have any kind of perfectly perfect Christmas. No, Mary experienced a very imperfect one.
Forced by the powers of the empire to travel the 90 miles from Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem in Judea – with Joseph, while she was uncomfortably, heavily pregnant, vulnerable to the dangers of the road – she and Joseph would find, when they arrived at last, that there was no space to be found in any of the guest rooms in the crowded town. Mary would deliver her first baby far from home, surrounded by animals. I wonder: did they even find a midwife in time? Yet ready or not, Mary gave birth and the writer of Luke tells us that she wrapped her firstborn son snugly and laid him in a manger.
For this Mary there were none of Martha Stewart’s grand meals, no gleaming ornaments,no carols ringing.
Yet imperfect as this scene was, extraordinary things unfolded for the little trio: Mary, Joseph and their baby.Don’t you know that even there in that strange place, Mary’s love and tenderness flooded her heart? Their first guests were not beloved family – but were Judean shepherds rushing in from the night fields, simple peasants who’d been dazzled by angels praising God, declaring peace, joyful news to all and --- rough strangers who came in haste to see this blessed Christ child announced from the sky.
There would be more miracles to come… wise men, a blazing star, a hurried escape from a murderous king… But on that Christmas first night, according to the words of, Luke 2:19, “Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.”
Other versions say, “Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself.”
“Mary committed these things to memory and considered them carefully.”
A Perfectly perfect Christmas? No. But so much more.
So how have we come so very far – from these quiet moments with Mary, the young mother cradling her baby, deep in quiet reflection, -- to the frenzy of a holiday season that can all feel like too much?
Over Decades upon decades, centuries upon centuries, We have built up a set of expectations – pictures of what Christmas should be – but never is. Idealized, sanitized Nativity scenes of Mary, Joseph and the baby.Happy, harmonious families in matching outfits, extravagant gifts… pure joy for all.Dickens’ Christmas Carol playing yet again - with its happy ending in which Christmases past present and future all resolve in happy generosity and a full table complete with roast goose.
Look: As much as we love Christmas, this is undeniably a difficult time of year. According to the American Psychological Association (APA), almost half of all women and a third of men report increased stress around the holidays. We find ourselves buying gifts for people we don't know that well, traveling to see people we don't like that much, and just generally doing too many things in too little time—feeling like we need to pack in as much as we can. Family conflicts flare up in fresh ways. Many of us experience an intensification of loneliness, busyness, exhaustion, pressure, disappointments. At the end of the day, I don’t blame Martha Stewart for causing this, I really don’t.
Here is My problem with Martha Stewart: She insists that perfection is desirable – and achievable. And don’t we kind of love the idea of perfectly perfect? I think it’s safe to say for us women, our favorite flaw is perfectionism … we’re just a little bit proud when we say to each other, “oh, I can’t help doing all this, I’m just such a perfectionist.” We feel very different about confessing other negative emotions - struggles like jealousy, hypocrisy, a sense of failure. We Perfectionists just want to be too good – and who can find fault with that?
The drive toward Perfectionism is that much more problematic at Christmas, a time when anxiety and sadness is common. Perfectionism sets us up for more acute feelings of letdown when the Christmas we create doesn’t "measure up" to our imagined ideals. Do you know what I mean? I can’t wrangle my kids into matching outfits for a photo for a holiday card to send to all of my gorgeous friends. My relatives are upset because we can’t make the trip to their place on December 25; coming in on the 27th just isn’t good enough. I feel a little lost for reasons I can’t really explain. It’s tough when my bright, shiny ideas don't match reality, even though I’ve given it my all to do more, look better, meet the highest of high expectations.
Who can relieve me of this belief that these shortcomings are all my fault – that there’s something imperfect about me or about those around me – something lacking that needs to be repaired?
The images and promises of Martha Stewart’s Christmas book feed into my own illusions about what life can and should be – and I daresay those false ideas distract me and draw me away from the life God desires for me: a life of contentment and grace and peace.
Jesus speaks directly to me in my struggle - in his kind, compassionate way. Jesus does this by caring for another Martha, that Martha who, from the Bible studies of my youth, was often called out as a perfectionist.
We meet this second Martha – along with her sister, today’s second Mary – in Luke chapter 10. Here is the story: “While Jesus and his disciples were traveling, Jesus entered a village where a woman named Martha welcomed him as a guest. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his message. By contrast, Martha was preoccupied with getting everything ready for their meal. So Martha came to Jesus and said, ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to prepare the table all by myself? Tell her to help me.’”
I’d like to pause right here to say that I feel with Martha. The beloved teacher Jesus has come into town and dropped by with 12 hungry men and suddenly there’s a crowd that needs to be welcomed, refreshed with footwashing, tended to and fed – and soon.
Martha takes her hospitality seriously and I’ll bet she has not had weeks of advance notice to prepare cassoulet or plum puddings. I imagine that she’s just trying desperately to get something presentable onto the table. No wonder she’s irritated to see her sister Mary lounging at Jesus feet, oblivious to her sister’s efforts to meet the needs at hand.
Jesus does not dismiss Martha’s appeal, saying, “Just relax! It’s no big deal!” There’s something more significant in Jesus’ words -something that I’d never really noticed before. Jesus responds to Martha : “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed.” With insight and friendship, Jesus sees Martha’s worry, her distress at many things. I think he intends to ease her mind, to comfort her. “Few things are needed.” He says gently.
In the past I’ve bristled, thinking Jesus was preferring Mary over her sister Martha when he says, “Few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
But can I hear Jesus again, speaking, instead, as a loving invitation to Martha? Few things are needed, Jesus says. I wonder if he went on to say…I’ve travelled far just to be with you, Martha. Let’s not miss this opportunity to truly enjoy one another’s presence. Tonight’s dinner for 15 does not need to meet your highest standards – need not be the best roast lamb, the finest wines, the freshest bread. I know you’re a great cook. If only you will release your idea of a perfectly perfect festive dinner, Martha, I assure you that a simple meal of a few plain dishes will suffice. What could be better than having some time to be together with me – alongside your sister, Mary? I hear Jesus say, I want nothing more than to be present with you, Martha. Jesus loved his friend, Martha; he wisely saw the heart she put into her labors.
I imagine Jesus has compassion for Martha Stewart, too, who, now 83 years old, has suffered a divorce, public envy and criticism, and time in prison, but who has never slowed in her unrelenting drive for success – striving for the perfect perfection of a life that will never be fully achieved.
You and I each embody some of these two Martha, don’t we? Martha Stewart and Martha, the sister of Mary. We are the Marthas who want to see dreams come true, who desire to make the season special for everyone…who want to show how competent we are, how together we are…who are determined to make it all look effortless. Who want to be loved.
Christmas is 20 days away. Are you worried and upset about many things? Are you burdened by unrealistic expectations of yourself and others? Do visions of perfect perfection accentuate the pain of fraught relationships, the griefs of Christmases past, the economic or physical or emotional limits of what you can deliver this December, a month already laden with stress? Let’s be gentle with the Marthas within us, the Marthas of quietly broken hearts. Jesus certainly would be.
How might we live into Jesus’s reassurance that “few things are needed”? How do we take some time each day to sit, as Martha surely longed to do, at the feet of Jesus - to just rest and enjoy him? How can we take on more of the Mary who, when Jesus came for dinner, chose what is better than a finely executed event: who chose presence over perfection?
How do you and I choose, this December, presence with God? With one another? With ourselves?
How can we experience, alongside the other Mary, the mother of Jesus, the awe and wonder of that first Christmas. Might we accompany this young mother Mary and, with her, treasure up all these things, pondering them in our hearts?
To help us experience more of the Mary in each of us I’ve created several imaginative exercises, some gentle invitations– to take with us into the coming days and I will share them with you in a moment.
But first I’d like to say this: I believe that the antidote to perfectionism is found, first of all, in an attitude of awe and wonder. Instead of determinedly chasing after a vision of what we think must be or should be - if only we try hard enough – pause…and take on an attitude of curiosity about what is and what is to come. Let’s lay aside the demands we’ve made and try on a new posture: to begin to see, with fresh, curious eyes, the astounding, miraculous truth of Christmas. Can we meet this birth of Jesus as if for the first time - as if we’ve never experience it before?
Poetry helps me see old things in new ways. The 17th century poet Richard Crashaw returns me to an attitude of awe and wonder. In “the Holy Nativity of our Lord,” Crashaw writes:
…Poor World, said I, what wilt thou do
To entertain this starry stranger?
Is this the best thou canst bestow,
A cold, and not too cleanly, manger?
Contend, ye powers of heav’n and earth,
To fit a bed for this huge birth.
Welcome, all wonders in one sight!
Eternity shut in a span;
Summer in winter; day in night;
Heaven in earth, and God in man.
Great little one,
whose all-embracing birth
Lifts earth to heaven,
stoops heav’n to earth….
To thee, meek Majesty! soft King
Of simple graces and sweet loves,
Each of us his lamb will bring,
Each his pair of silver doves;
Till burnt at last in fire of thy fair eyes,
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice.
We best welcome this soft King Jesus – the great little one – not with what we create, produce, accomplish, or pull off, but with our very selves. Not even the greatest powers of heaven and earth could rightly entertain this starry stranger. Let you and let me offer our humble presence, which is really all we have to give, and all that Jesus desires, in the end.
As we take time to pause to be present with God, maybe we put ourselves into the Nativity story - and imagine bringing something that would bring a smile to the face of a baby of simple graces and sweet loves: like a lamb or a silver dove.
With Mary, let us come to the manger quietly, in deep reverence, holding deep within ourselves the extraordinary wonder of heaven contained in earth, God in an infant, a soft King.
May we, like Jesus’ friend Mary, let go of perfectionism to choose presence - which is the better part. May we commit to remembering the acts of our loving God and consider them carefully.
When we leave this precious time of fellowship today, I have no doubt that our to-do lists will spark up new Martha energies. I, for one, have got to find an adequate Christmas tree by the end of this afternoon. But, in fact, dear Marthas, few things are needed.
The imaginative, spiritual exercises I’ve created are easy, accessible invitations to presence - to God, to yourself, to others… They only take a few minutes. I hope you savor the opportunity to create a beautiful space for prayer and reflection, to take time looking deeply at artistic images of the Nativity, to let Christmas music enter your soul, to go back into the old family Christmas photos, to ponder your own deepest hopes and desires…
It’s my prayer that over the Advent days to come you and I will, like our two Marys, draw near, again and again, to the presence of God who was born a baby to love us, save us, to be with us here, through all of our earthly lives.
Karen Wright Marsh is an author of Wake Up To Wonder and Vintage Saints and Sinners. She is a speaker and the executive director and cofounder of Theological Horizons, a ministry centered at the University of Virginia that supports believers & seekers by providing a welcoming community for engaging faith, thought & life. She is the host of the Vintage Saints and Sinners podcast. Karen lives with Charles Marsh, a UVA professor, at the Bonhoeffer House in Charlottesville, Virginia.
Learn more at www.theologicalhorizons.org and www.karenwrightmarsh.com
2nd Sunday in Advent with Bonhoeffer
“These things God has revealed to us through the Spirit; for the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God.” I Corinthians 2:10
MYSTERY
God reverses our assumptions and confounds our reasonable minds. God, who is utterly free, does wonders where we least expect them; God redeems where we despair. God takes what is little, broken and humble and makes it marvelous. Unashamed of our lowliness, God marches right in, comes close, and chooses us. During Advent, may we stand in awe of the “unrecognized mystery of this world: Jesus Christ.”
What is one prevailing human assumption that God turns upside down in the Christmas story?
Where are you - or someone you love – feeling lost, neglected, weak, broken?
Might you enter into prayer now? What do you long to say to Jesus Christ, God-with-you, the great Mystery?
December Prayers: A Work of Attention
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. -Philippians 4:8
Dear Friends,
Even as holiday festivities pick up, December offers us opportunities to pause and reflect on all that we hold dear and all that we long for. The beautifully-filmed video above was created by Micah Lindstrom of Morgan Horse Studios and invites the viewer into a brief meditation of my practice as an artist, as someone who tries to attend to the beauty around me and tell about it. In that same spirit, and as we enter into Advent, enjoy the poem and music below, remembering the devoted attention that Mary gave to the Incarnate Divine Love in her arms.
grace & peace,
Messenger
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.
By Mary Oliver
Liturgies and Libations | Maddie Mislock ‘25
I never used to consider myself a morning person, especially in high school when waking up meant sore muscles begging me to stay in bed just a little longer and groggy conversations in the kitchen while I cradled my coffee. Mornings were not something I looked forward to. Perhaps they still aren’t. I need my half hour to lie in bed, my hour before I’m able to string sentences together, my morning to myself (whenever possible).
Yet I savor the act of cooking a hearty and nourishing breakfast. I relish sitting on the porch with my Bible open and a small candle flickering beside me. My favorite time to be in my house is when it’s quiet, which is usually in the mornings. The rituals between waking and starting the day’s work that were once a bother are now a buoy.
My routine hasn’t changed all that much over the years—breakfast, Bible, brushing my teeth. There has been one major shift: I no longer consume caffeine (a fact I sometimes wonder at, as someone who used to consume pitchers of coffee daily—yes, pitchers). One might think that removing a source of joy and comfort would be detrimental. However, cutting coffee was a first step on my healing journey.
Not only was my extreme dependence on caffeine replacing my dependence on the Lord, but it was wreaking havoc on my body. What seemed an insignificant “one more serving” was actually an insatiable thirst for pleasure.
Though I don’t constantly think about coffee anymore, there are other things that can try to take its place. I’m definitely a beverage person and looking forward to a kombucha or tea can help get me through a hard day. The times I savor a beverage are the times I take a pause—or close—to my work. It’s not just the drink, it’s the ritual.
It may seem a simple thing, because it is. It’s one glass. It’s one moment to slow down and breathe, to taste and see that the Lord is good. Sipping on a beverage is when calm seems instinctual. But these should not be the only moments in a day that I slow down. A fun drink is surely not meant to be my ultimate source of joy.
My rhythms of work, play, and sleep can quickly become askew. Even though my routines around starting (and closing) the day help ground how I allot my time and bring some disorder into order, structure and consistency are not meant to be perfectly attainable or satisfying.
Peace can permeate my days, if I invite it to. But it is not through what I drink or how much time I spend in bed. How we live shapes what we love, but the opposite is true too. There is a prayer I return to often, a lifeline of sorts, that offers this encouragement: [The Lord’s] rest is not only meant to be lived and loved in leisure, but in the midst of labor too.
Psalm 34:8 (ESV).
Cole Jones, Holy Grounds, CoJo Studio, 2022.
1st Sunday in Advent with Bonhoeffer
For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.
Trust in God at all times, O people. Pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us. Psalm 62:5-8
WAITING
Advent is a season of waiting: an art forgotten by our impatient age. In tender letters to his loved ones, Dietrich Bonhoeffer struggles honestly with life’s deepest questions, forced to wait in a Nazi prison for a release that will never come. Through the eyes of faith, he comes to perceive the cosmic reversal that Christmas brings. God is in the manger. There is wealth in poverty, light in darkness. God, who is Love, rules the world and rules our lives. May we, with Bonhoeffer, declare with hope that in Christ “no evil can befall us.”
What hard questions are you asking right now?
What practice might help you to “wait in silence” for God through these 24 days of Advent?
What is the Christmas message that you most long to hear and believe?
Thanksgiving with Theological Horizons 2024
a collection of Scripture, poetry & prayers
“O Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; Let us shout joyfully to the rock of our salvation.
Let us come into God’s presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to God with songs of praise!
For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods.” Psalm 95:1-3
O Lord, that lends me life, lend me a heart replete with thankfulness.
William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
Do not let the empty cup be your first teacher of the blessings you had when it was full…
Seek, as a plain duty, to cultivate a buoyant, joyous sense of the crowded kindnesses of God
in your daily life. Alexander Maclaren (1826-1910)
So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. Colossians 2:6-7
For the infinite variety of your creative expression, we praise you, O God.
You have made even the necessary act of eating a nurturing comfort and a perpetual delight.
Douglas Kaine McKelvey (contemporary)
"Give thanks to the Lord for he is good, God’s love endures forever." Psalm 118:29
Thou that hast given so much to me,
Give one thing more, a grateful heart….
Not thankful, when it pleaseth me;
As if thy blessings had spare days:
But such a heart, whose pulse may be Thy praise.
George Herbert (1593-1633)
"I will give thanks to you, LORD, with all my heart; I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.” Psalm 9:1
One of the oldest anthems of the church is ‘Alleluia’. It means simply ‘All hail to the One who is.’ It is the arch-hymn of praise, the ultimate expression of thanksgiving, the pinnacle of triumph, the acme of human joy. Alleluia says ‘God is good — and we know it.’ Life itself is an exercise in learning to sing ‘alleluia’ here in order to recognize the face of God hidden in the recesses of time. ‘Alleluia’ in life means dealing with moments that don’t feel like ‘alleluia moments’ at all. Alleluia is not a substitute for reality. It is simply the awareness of another whole kind of reality—beyond the immediate, beyond the delusional, beyond the instant perception of things. In the Hebrew Scriptures, ‘Alleluia’ is an injunction to praise, a call to the people to summon up praise in themselves. It is a challenge to see in life more than is seeable in any single moment…and to trust the One who is. Adapted from Joan Chittister & Rowan Williams (contemporary)
"And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body;
and be thankful." Colossians 3:15
A PRAYER BEFORE FEASTING
Leader:
To gather joyfully is indeed a serious affair,
for feasting & all enjoyments gratefully taken are, at their heart, acts of resistance.
All:
In celebrating this feast we declare that evil & death, suffering & loss, sorrow & tears, will not have the final word.
But the joy of fellowship, and the welcome & comfort of friends new & old,
& the celebration of these blessings of food & drink & conversation & laughter are the true evidence
of things eternal, and are the first fruits of that great glad joy that is to come and that will be unending.
So let our feast this day be joined to those whose sure victories are secured by Christ,
Let it be to us now a delight, and a glad foretaste of his eternal kingdom.
Bless us, O Lord, in this feast.
Bless us, O Lord, as we linger over our cups, and over this table laden with good things,
As we relish the delights of varied texture and flavor, of aromas and savory spices,
of dishes prepared as acts of love and blessing, of sweet delights made sweeter by the communion of saints.
May this shared meal and our pleasures in it stir our imaginations,
focus our vision on the kingdom of heaven that is to come,
on the kingdom that is promised, on the kingdom that is already, indeed among us.
The resurrection of all good things has already joyfully begun.
May this feast be an echo of that great Supper of the Lamb, the great celebration that awaits the children of God.
Where two or more of us are gathered, O Lord, there you have promised to be. And here we are. And so, here are You. Take joy, O King, in this, our feast.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, take seat, take feast, take delight! Amen.
(from Every Moment Holy by Douglas Kaine McKelvey)
As you gather this Thanksgiving, please pray for Theological Horizons – as we support believers and seekers by providing a welcoming community for engaging faith, thought and life.
We are grateful for YOU!
On Joy & Grief | Perkins Fellow, Lanie Moore, ‘25
This semester, I am volunteering once again at the Haven, a low-barrier day shelter for unhoused individuals near the Downtown Mall.
Like most of the buildings around the Mall, the Haven has history. Located in a centuries-old church building, the day shelter sits beneath a soaring sanctuary, with stained glass windows that pour technicolor light onto pews lined with boxes of supplies for the guests downstairs. First Christian Church used to fill that room every Sunday, lifting their voices in worship to El Roi, the God who sees; Jehovah Rafa, the God who heals; Jehovah Jireh, the God who provides. Two hundred years later, that same God is just as present in the shelter below as He was in the sanctuary above.
In my last blog post, I talked about the grief I experience each week when I drive home from the Haven. I am haunted by the raw brokenness of humanity, laid bare in a church basement. I lament, and lament, and I know that my Father grieves alongside me. El Roi sees the suffering of His children, burdened by mental, physical, and economic illnesses far too heavy for them to carry alone. Because God didn’t design our bodies to handle the weight of constant grief, I also embrace joy. I can breathe deeply and be at peace knowing that God gives us strength to hold our grief and our joy together, side-by-side.
Likewise, my joy is not superior to my grief. Joy is not a final destination to be reached after embarking on a journey to overcome grief. These two states of being are equally valuable and equally necessary as we embrace peacemaking in the Now and Not Yet. Joy keeps my heart light, but grief keeps my heart soft. Every time, I will choose a heart softened by grief, lament, and prayer rather than a heart hardened by fear, avoidance, and lack of exposure.
So, I keep showing up. I keep answering calls at the front desk, folding towels in the back, cracking jokes with the shift managers. I embrace the heartbreak and despair when brokenness breaks the skin. I know that God is exercising my heart, keeping it from atrophy, or worse, rigor mortis.
Expose me, O Lord, and soften my heart. Pour into me as light from the stained glass windows upstairs. Amen.
Discover why we’re celebrating…
Be a part of the TH story today and make a gift to our ministry —
so that together we can reach more seekers and believers across the globe!
All are welcome, always.
Reflections on Vocation | Lauren Metters ‘25
My mother likes to tell a story about my first few days of nursery school. As she tells it, early into the year, my teacher called her aside at pick-up and expressed her surprise that I could count to fourteen. After all, most children my age stopped at ten. My mother laughed, explaining that our house had fourteen steps up to the second floor. I had learned to count the steps.
Today, I can count differently. One God, two natures of Christ, Three Persons in the Trinity, four marks of the Catholic Church, five precepts of the Church, six liturgical seasons, and seven Sacraments, eight Beatitudes, nine days in a Novena, ten Mosaic Commandments, eleven canonized Saints from the United States, twelve Apostles, thirteen Pauline epistles, fourteen Stations of the Cross.
As a Catholic, my faith centers around Sacramental life. My life is marked by Sacraments and ritual participation. I think it has led me, though, to narrowly define vocation. There are two vocations which are Sacramentalized: Marriage and Holy Orders. While we may be called to serve God in other aspects of our lives, I’ve experienced considerable challenges as an unmarried lay person, who, on account of my queerness, is likely to remain unmarried and lay. I also know that, as people continue to delay marriage (and, for that matter, ordination) until later in life, the number of unmarried and lay adults in the Church will continue to grow, even if most will eventually phase out of the demographic. I am convinced that empowering discipleship and commitment among those without a Sacramentalized vocation is a foremost challenge of the modern Church.
Whether justified, or on account of my own grief at not being able to receive either of the vocational Catholic Sacraments, it is difficult for me to engage in broader questions of vocation. All others seem subordinate and secondary to me. As such, I would like to offer the phrase “creative purpose.” What are the interactions, decisions, and contributions for which I was created? Perhaps easier to identify as a series of powerful or illuminative moments, discernment of creative purpose is no less lofty an endeavor, even if at times more accessible. As I engage my peers in the Horizon Fellowship, I offer this: perhaps these are some of the moments for which we have been created.
Fellow Arpan Sathiabalan | The Small Things
Community Development. The refrain rang out clearly, unmistakably, worryingly. My mind was awhirl with new perspectives, conscious of the magnitude of the task ahead of us and all-too-aware of how small I am in the face of it.
Attending the Christian Community Development Association Conference in Portland as a Perkins Fellow was a powerful experience. It was incredibly inspiring to see the work Christians around the world were doing, to see that people took their call to serve seriously and were making a real impact in their communities. I felt warmly welcomed into this community, loved by strangers with tender hearts who had so much wisdom to offer. Hearing about stories of injustice and redemption built a raging fire in my heart. “How could I stand by and do nothing?”
Yet, my impetuous passion was tempered by knowledge of my limitations. I lack the knowledge, resources, and know-how to solve many of the problems I see around me. This is something that I expect many of you to have wrestled with, the consciousness of wrongdoing but the difficulty in knowing how to promote justice. In this wrestling, I’ve come to learn that our heart posture is more important than our ability.
A curious moment at the airport as we left Portland cemented this lesson. After passing through security, an elderly gentleman was asking for help in reaching his flight. As I began to try to help, a middle-aged man who had already tried his hand at being helpful warned me that he didn’t know his flight information and was drunk. Taking stock of these facts, I decided I would walk with him to the flight display board. On the way there, he unexpectedly fell against my shoulder and sagged onto the ground unceremoniously! Quite an adventure for 7:30 a.m.! A security guard came over and we practically dragged him over to a nearby bench where he waited for the airport to find a wheelchair and someone to help him.
I didn’t solve all of this man’s problems, but I helped him the best I could. In Matthew 25:40, Jesus says that ‘“whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”’ I am unable to solve every problem I see around me. All I can do is be faithful to my small part and trust that God will use it, so that inch by inch the Kingdom of God advances here on Earth.