Charles Hawkins

“Be reconciled to God.” That is not advice.  It is not a religious suggestion.  It is a plea—almost a cry.  Paul does not say,  “When you feel ready…  when your life settles down…  when you get your act together.”  He says, “Be reconciled.”  Now. Because this is the strange thing about grace:  it does not wait for us to become safe.  Grace comes looking for us  while we are still complicated. And if you have ever needed reconciliation,  you know it is not a pretty word.  Reconciliation means something was torn.  It means there was distance.  It means someone had to cross the distance. Paul says God has crossed it. “For our sake,  God made him to be sin who knew no sin,  so that in him we might become  the righteousness of God.” That line is not meant to be a puzzle for theologians only.  It is meant to land in the gut. Not: “Jesus became a sinner.” But: Jesus stepped into the full weight of wh...

There are moments in life when the warning sirens sound. A storm is coming. A fire is spreading. A crisis looms. And when the siren wails, everything else stops. You don’t keep going about your day as if nothing has changed. You pay attention. You listen. You prepare. Imagine a fire alarm screaming in the middle of the night. One moment, sleep held us in its quiet grip; the next, we were jolted awake, disoriented, the acrid smell of smoke in the air. In an instant, everything changed. No time to think—just the rush to get out, to make sure everyone was safe. The crackling heat, the frantic search for a way through. And at that moment, nothing else mattered—none of the worries of yesterday, none of the plans for tomorrow. Just the fire, the urgency, and the desperate hope that we had prepared in time. The prophet Joel begins with such a warning. Imagine yourself now in Jerusalem, walking through the city just as dawn is breaking. The early morning air is cool, the streets quiet. Merchan...

 Prayers of the People Let us pray for the Church and for the world. Gracious God, on the holy mountain you spoke your word and revealed your glory. Give your Church ears to hear and hearts to obey, that we may listen to your Son and follow him in the way of the cross and resurrection. In the name of Christ, hear our prayer. Unite your people in the truth of your Scriptures: a lamp in a dark place until the day dawns. Guard us from “private” faith that answers only to itself; form us by your Spirit into a community of humble, patient, and faithful interpretation. In the name of Christ, hear our prayer. We pray for the leaders of the nations and for all who exercise authority. Where rulers rage and plots multiply, teach the powerful wisdom and restraint; establish justice, protect the vulnerable, and turn hearts from violence and pride toward mercy and the common good. In the name of Christ, hear our prayer. We pray for all who are waiting—those in long uncertainty, those who keep v...

  Psalm 84 gives us a vocabulary for faith that is often neglected in theological training: desire . Not duty. Not mastery. Not even conviction. Desire. “My soul has a desire and longing for the courts of the LORD; my heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God.” The psalmist does not separate interior faith from bodily life. Heart and flesh move together. Longing is not an embarrassment to be disciplined away; it is the very engine of pilgrimage. Faith here begins not with certainty but with ache—with a pull toward the presence of God that the psalmist knows is life-giving. That matters for seminarians, who are often trained to inhabit ideas about God more fluently than spaces where God is encountered. Psalm 84 refuses such disembodiment. God is not approached only through thought but through movement, practice, and shared ritual. The psalm imagines faith as a journey taken with others toward a real place, shaped by real rhythms—walking, resting, praying, singing. Even the ...

Service for New Year's Eve   This liturgy, drawn from The Book of Occasional Services, invites us into a sacred pause between the closing of one year and the opening of the next.   This service is structured as a vigil — a watchful, prayerful time to reflect on the past, seek renewal, and consecrate the year to come. Through Scripture, song, silence, and prayer, we seek God’s presence and guidance.   All are welcome. We hope this time deepens your trust in the One who is Alpha and Omega — the beginning and the end.   ***** A Walk Through the Liturgy   Service of Light The service begins in a darkened church with the Service of Light (from An Order for Worship in the Evening, BCP p. 109). We light candles, symbolizing Christ as the Light in the darkness of time and history. We sing the ancient hymn Phos Hilaron (“O Gracious Light”).   Readings and Psalms A series of readings — drawn from Scripture — reflect on the themes of time, seasons, God’s providence, a...

Christmas 2 Year A   Jeremiah 31:7–14   1. Historical Context   This passage belongs to the so-called Book of Consolation (Jeremiah 30–33), widely understood as a collection of hope-filled oracles addressed to Judah and Israel in the aftermath—or anticipated end—of exile. Whether composed during the Babylonian exile or shaped shortly thereafter, the text responds to communal trauma: displacement, loss of land, temple, and political autonomy. Against Jeremiah’s earlier oracles of judgment, these chapters articulate a theological conviction that exile is not the final word. Restoration is imagined not as human achievement but as divine initiative.   2. Literary Form and Structure   The passage is a poetic proclamation combining exhortation (“Sing aloud”), divine promise (“I am going to bring them”), and doxological vision (“They shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion”). It moves from summons to praise, through images of return, to a culminating portrait o...