Letters to My Congregation
Even So, Come Lord Jesus
Each week (usually Wednesday afternoon), I send out a letter to the congregation at West Franklin. It’s a tiny way I hope to shepherd them during the week. Perhaps it might encourage, help, or challenge you as well.
West Franklin Family,
It never ceases to amaze me how the best of humanity tends to emerge amidst and following crisis. It’s weird but beautiful. Tragedy produces goodness. Chaos yields grace. Death brings forth life.
When there’s flooding or hurricanes or fires or school shootings or tornados or starvation - what always results? Care. Compassion. Help. Aid. Rescue. Prayer. Donations. Hugs. Presence.
It’s funny. No one would ever ask for tragedy. No one desires to endure a crisis. We, rightfully so, do all we can to protect ourselves from such things. But it is precisely in these moments, these seasons, where we witness and participate in what we long for: genuine love for one another.
Moments of amazing grace amidst seasons of excruciating darkness. Light flooding a dark room. A tiny green bud bursting forth from dark soil.
I’ve witnessed it again this week. Tragedy. Pain. Grief. Loss. Horror. . . Care. Compassion. Help. Aid. Rescue. Prayer. Gifts. Hugs. Presence.
One moment we are all doing our own thing, going about our own business. The next minute we are all, uniformly, on our knees and united around a common goal of meeting difficult needs.
The body of Christ is a force to be reckoned with when one of her members hurt. The body of Christ, because of Who resides in us, brings glimpses of resurrection life where death, heartache, pain, and grief reside.
No one wants tragedy. No one seeks after a crisis. We run from disaster and try our best to avoid calamity. And, to be sure, one day we won’t ever have to fear them happening again. But until then, by God’s good design, when they occur - we get a taste of heaven on earth while swallowing the bitterest of pills.
Until then, West Franklin, keep doing what we do.
Even so, Come Lord Jesus,
Pastor Matt