The Greatest Gift of All

Christ Church Charlotte

The Greatest Gift of All

October 2, 2024

Living in Atlanta, I had the privilege of serving several different congregations. One that made a deeply lasting impact on my life was the Church of the Holy Comforter. Holy Comforter is a stunning parish: small, generous, diverse, compassionate, and deeply mission-focused.

The congregation of Holy Comforter is very unique with many of its members living with cognitive and developmental delays. During my time there, The Reverend Mike Tanner was Rector and was a deep, faithful, and patient man. Mike’s skill and compassionate capacity to hold in tension the sacred tradition of worship in a room full of people who might yell, scream, or be shuffling about taught me much about how broad and how deep the grace of true worship can be when the whole congregation is welcomed and all gifts and distractions are experienced as holy.

One of the most powerful and you-never-know-what might-happen parts of the service was the time of offering. As the piano played and plates were passed, it was not rare for them to return to the altar full of any sort of gifts.

Coins? Yes.

Dollar bills? Yes.

A banana here or there? Yes. Vegetables? Yes.

A stick or branch or flower? Yes.

You see, the custom of the offering at Holy Comforter was that people provided not only monetarily for the community, but practically. The gifts brought forward at the offertory were used in the food pantry or handed out to the community as was needed at any given time. Most gave as they could. Some took what they needed. But God always provided, through and through.

Whenever we enter newly into our Annual Stewardship season at Christ Church, I am always mindful of Holy Comforter. As Laura, Gav, Geneva, and I talk about our family’s pledge to Christ Church, Laura and I explain to our children that our gifts are about far more than simply the money we put in the plate (or give online). They are also about the way in which we choose to give our gifts of time through volunteering or leadership. Or our gifts of talent to the community of Christ Church for the use of God and for the good of the whole. As parents, this conversation is less about the final dollar amount and far more about the practice of faith-filled generosity we hope to inspire in our kids.

As you consider what your annual pledge will be this year, I wonder what other gifts you might choose to “put in the plate“ as you make your monetary gift to God? I wonder what fruit might come from an offering of your unique gifts of time through volunteering and service in worship, or in the community in the aftermath of Helene?

I wonder what blessing might be received by someone in a small group or Bible study, simply by your wisdom being in the room because showing up is priority?

Make no mistake about it, your financial gifts matter. But each person has so much to offer beyond their monetary pledge. Your presence may just matter more.

As you walk your personal or family faith journey with generosity this season, I hope you may discover – like I did all those years ago – that the gifts we can offer to God and to others are diverse and deeply meaningful to both the giver and to those who benefit from their generosity.

I pray that you may find space this year to give the gift of God in you, for that is the greatest gift of all. Amen.

Leave the Leaves

September 25, 2024

One of the places that I almost always experience God is in Creation. Which is why I love to hike or walk, work out in my yard, or just be outside. There is something about the beauty, the harmony, the complexity, the paradoxes, the appeal to all the senses, and the proximity as well as the variety of flora and fauna that fascinates me. It draws out the praise and wonder in me. I have been mowing grass and tending yards since I was about eleven. In addition to babysitting and pet/house/plant sitting, it was how I earned money back in the day. It started one Saturday when a neighbor, Mr. Hill, came looking for my older brother to mow his yard. My dad was mowing and I was trimming the edges with the clippers (in the days before string trimmers) and raking up miscellaneous cuttings. My brother wasn’t around, but my dad looked over at me and told Mr. Hill that he would teach me to mow and send me over. Which is what happened. I soon had a thriving business with many of the neighbors. It paid better than babysitting, but it was also a lot more work. I had been trained to my dad’s standards for what a tidy, well-manicured lawn might be, and that meant everything trimmed, raked, and swept with not a stray leaf in sight. Fast forward several decades. I still find a tidy yard attractive, but I am also learning to appreciate letting nature take its course. Not out of laziness, because I actually still really love mowing. It’s very Zen to me: there is instant gratification. But in the last several years, I have learned about the “Leave the Leaves” campaign. It’s an effort to encourage people not to vacuum up every leaf or twig or whatever that falls into their yard and to just leave the leaves. Why? Because an enormous number of insects, invertebrates, birds, and small mammals use that detritus for foraging, nesting, or drinking the rainwater caught in the leaves. It also keeps all the leaf litter out of landfills in places where there is no composting. I started thinking about this as a metaphor for our spiritual journeys. It would be nice to think that life and our relationship with God was neat, trim, tidy, and always on an upward, straight-ahead linear progression. But, at least for me, that is not the case. Life happens, questions arise, storms come along, there are other beings with whom I inhabit this earth. There are so many things – really almost everything – that are not under my control. (And for that we can probably all be thankful!) Life, like the seasons, is cyclical and I believe that our spiritual journeys are as well. Not like a circle, but like a slinky or a spring. We come back around to things that are familiar, but we are not quite the same as we were when we encountered them before. Life has happened. So, what if some of the depth and beauty and joy of our spiritual journey comes out of the loose ends, the seemingly unconnected detritus of life that accumulates like leaves in the fall? What if God is deep at work, like all the little microorganisms in the stuff on the ground, repurposing it, redeeming it, turning it into rich compost to help us grow and flourish? Let’s leave the leaves. Both in our lawns and in our lives.

Connected, Not Alone

September 18, 2024 • The Reverend Elizabeth Walker

My family has moved several times in the last few years, which has often made the start of the school year a challenge. Each year, my children have had to figure out new friends, new carpools, new hallways, new teachers, and new teams. This is a lot of adjustment, and it hasn’t been easy. In my first months at Christ Church, a kind soul asked after my kids. I shared a few details, and she replied, "You are only as happy as your least happy child." I hadn’t heard this before, and I haven’t forgotten it. That phrase struck a chord, not just because of its truth in parenting, but because of how it speaks to a larger reality of life in community. This conversation came back to me after Sunday’s https://christchurchcharlotte.org/faith-forum/ where the Christ Church clergy shared stories from our spiritual journeys, speaking about the influences on our faith in our early lives and sharing reflections on times when our wells of faith seemed to run dry. As we talked about those dry seasons, it became clear that the connections we had – whether with God, community, or loved ones – were often what sustained us. Just like my children adjusting to a new environment, we’ve all experienced times when we felt lost or disconnected, only to be drawn back by the love and support of others. Our wellbeing connects to those around us. Our wells run dry when we see others around us suffer. We share in each other's pain and joy, just as much as we share in our own. Paul writes in Galatians 6:2, "Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ." Our hearts expand and contract with the joys and sorrows of the people around us. While this might seem like a lot to bear – to be only as happy as your least happiest child, or spouse, or neighbor, or friend – it is also the route to wellness. Writer and activist bell hooks once said, "Rarely, if ever, are any of us healed in isolation." The peace of Christ flows when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, to open up and let others help carry what we can’t carry on our own. That’s where real healing happens – in the messy, imperfect connections we build with others. Wellbeing comes when we allow ourselves to be held in community. Together, we reflect the wholeness of God’s love – a love that heals, comforts, and nurtures. The burdens are lighter, the joy is sweeter, and the love is stronger when we walk with others, participating in God's vision of abundant life for all.

The Sacrament of the Sandwich

The Reverend Chip Edens

I love sandwiches. There’s something about sandwiches that just brings people together. Maybe it’s the simplicity of a meal that can be both humble and extraordinary, or perhaps it’s the way that a good sandwich can feel like a comforting embrace in the middle of a busy day. As a sandwich fan, I’ve come to appreciate the deeper meaning behind this beloved food and how it connects us in ways we might not always recognize. In town, I have my favorite sandwich spot, a place where the staff knows my order before I even walk in the door. There’s a sense of belonging that comes with being a regular, where not only do they remember how I like my sandwich, but they also notice when I haven’t been by in a while. These small gestures of recognition and care are more than just good customer service – they’re a reminder of the power of community. Paul writes in Romans 12:13, “Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.” In the breaking of bread, even in the form of a sandwich, we practice hospitality, we build community, and we experience the love that binds us all together. A sandwich is more than you think. So is whatever you love. When we come together to connect and care for one another it becomes a sacrament – a symbol of grace and connection.