Colonial Church in Prairie Village

What’s in a name? I was eleven when my sister was born. In the months leading up to her birth, I discovered that my parents had chosen to name her “Hannah.” I was appalled. Did they not know the teasing that was about to ensue? Hannah… BANANA?! I was convinced this was a bad move. My parents, on the other hand, knew something else about the name. One meaning of the name is “Grace,” while another means “[she] who God highly favors.” I suppose I couldn’t argue with that. This week, after much thought and care, our church council shared its recommendation of a new name for our community. For some, this is exciting; for others, it doesn’t sit so easily. We have an opportunity now to listen to one another as we consider a potential name change. Like naming a child, we pour our dreams, hopes, and worries into the decision. We don’t have all the answers, but we trust that God is with us along the way. Over the years, my sister has lived into her name. She has a caring heart, which she uses to love her children, my nieces and nephews, all five of them! And of course, I love it, too. Throughout this process, we've been reminded that a name isn’t everything. What matters most is who we are, the love we share, and how we show up for one another. But sometimes, a name can help tell that story. It can point us toward who we are and who we’re becoming. Names grow into us, and we grow into them. Perhaps the question before us isn’t simply, What should we call ourselves? but Who are we becoming, and what name might help us live more fully into that calling? Like hearing my sister called “Hannah” for the first time, we may not fully understand the name at first. But with time, care, and grace, we may just grow into it… together.

I love a good statue. Growing up Catholic, I often found myself praying while looking at statues of Mary, Francis of Assisi, and others. We were taught that the Spirit is not in the statue itself, but that offering reverence in this way can help us connect more deeply to the spiritual life. For Protestants like us, there is wisdom in that. Lately, though, I’ve noticed I’ve been caught up in a different kind of reverence, one centered on my phone! Especially at night, I find myself scrolling and scrolling. I become distracted, sometimes overwhelmed, by what I see. It has a way of pulling me away from myself, from others, and from God. Recently, a member of our church gave me a small ankh, an ancient Egyptian symbol of life. This week, I decided to hold it in my hand during prayer, asking God to be near me and to give me new life. It felt like an important prayer, because truthfully, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed and uncertain these days. There is so much difficult news in the world, and the constant presence of it on my TV, phone, and computer has, at times, felt like it’s “sucking the life” out of me. I’ve felt drained, and at times unable to care for the things that are most important to me. So I sat quietly, holding the ankh, and began repeating a simple prayer: “Give me more life, my God.” As I prayed, something shifted. I began to feel more grounded and more present. I sensed, in a deeper way, the truth of the words we will hear this Sunday from Acts: “In God we live and move and have our being.” I’m not suddenly free from anxiety or uncertainty. But I do feel more rooted. And that has made a difference. Praying with a simple word or phrase like this is actually a long-standing spiritual practice. Some of our members who participate in Centering Prayer experience this regularly. It’s simple, but powerful. You might consider trying it. The truth is, things are heavy right now. I feel it, and I imagine you do, too. In times like these, finding ways to reconnect with God matters. For some, that might be lighting a candle. For others, gazing at a meaningful object, or spending time in nature. These practices help us connect to what we cannot see but can deeply feel: the ever-present Spirit of God among us. This week, I invite you to reconnect with that Spirit in whatever way you can. With everything happening in our world socially, politically, and environmentally, rooting ourselves in something deeper is not a luxury. It is essential to our spiritual and emotional well-being.

This Sunday, I find myself drawn into a powerful and, I admit, unsettling story in Acts: a slave girl exploited for profit. As the story unfolds, we encounter prisoners singing in the dark, earthquakes, door cells opening, and jailers asking big questions about what it all means. As I sit with this text, I can’t help but think about those in our own time who are detained, separated from their families, or living under the shadow of systems that confine and control. The world still knows many kinds of captivity, and I feel that tension as I read this story. At the same time, this story opens a deeper question not only about the prisons around us but also the ones within us. I wonder what holds us captive. Fear, anxiety, numbness, the pressure to perform, or that quiet sense that something isn’t right but we don’t quite know how to name it? And still, in the midst of all this, I hear a simple and surprising word: freedom is not something we achieve, but something God is already bringing to life. Even in the darkest places I trust that the Spirit is still at work, loosening chains, opening doors, and inviting us into a deeper freedom. I hope you’ll join me this Sunday as we listen for God’s liberating movement in our world and in our own lives. I look forward to seeing you.