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Prayerfulness – An Advent Message

I can recall so well the magical feeling of a Christmas morning walk in an overgrown field behind our house when I was back home on break from college. This was wild land as an array of weeds and small trees competed with one another as they took root on the empty lot.

I had outgrown the yearning for presents that characterized Christmases of my childhood. I was enjoying the seven of us together. I don’t remember what gifts I received. I do remember feeling good about the morning of unwrapping gifts in a calmer way than my four siblings and I could have managed when we were younger. The morning felt just right, with nothing else needed. Then, my dad brought out one last, not-particularly large, gift-wrapped box. He seemed so pleased. I had no idea what it could be. Inside, I found the unexpected gift of a Nikon camera. Until then, my forays into photography had been with my dad’s old Yashica. This was a Nikon of my own.

It was still early enough that when I went out after breakfast, the fog that enshrouded that morning had yet to break. I took my gift for a walk to see what I could see. The dew-covered weeds overtaking the lot seemed magical to me. Quiet stillness is what I remember. No noise except the occasional bird sounds. The photos I took that morning would never make it to a nature calendar, but they were the beginnings of me gaining a better sense of capturing my perspective on the world through a lens. Photography encourages me to pay close attention to what I am seeing and then attend to how I frame what interests me so that I can share my perspective with others. 

Over the next few years, I started working for Georgia Southern’s student newspaper, then the yearbook, the Public Relations Department and the Statesboro Herald. I would graduate and take a job as a newspaper photographer first in Warner Robins and later in Rome, Georgia. I honed my craft in newspaper work so that shutter speed and aperture and the rules of composition became second nature. I still enjoy that part of photography, the technical side. Then, when I had an assignment to get a photograph of a given subject, like the office manager whose passion was playing for the local symphony, I could use that craft to get a technically good picture for the paper. But the art of photography, which continues to draw me in, comes in discovering the world in surprising ways through attentiveness. This way of seeing the world is as much about feeling as seeing. How does this feel and how do I convey that feeling?

I now understand how the two ways I practice photography–the first with a set plan of what I need to document or show, the second going out and discovering what captivates me–are an apt metaphor for two ways of being with God–in saying our prayers and being prayerful. 

This summer while on sabbatical, I read Brother David Steindl Rast’s  book Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer: An Approach to Life in Fullness In it, Brother David writes, “It is not prayers that count, but prayerfulness.” In unpacking this for myself, I could see anew something I had already experienced, that we need both of these: the prayers of the church and a prayerful attentiveness to life.

In finding my way into the Episcopal Church, I was drawn by Word and Sacrament in the liturgy where scripture is taken seriously as the Word of God, as are the outward signs of the inward and spiritual grace we find in the sacraments. I found myself pulled into the Anglican way of connecting myself more fully to Christ through threefold practices found in the Book of Common Prayer of weekly Communion, Daily Office, and private devotions. Decades ago, I added daily prayer using the offices of Morning and Evening Prayer to my gathering weekly with others for the Holy Eucharist, and then I added other private devotions, including other forms of prayer, as well as confession. The discipline in this simple way of living offers a life of prayer that shapes one over time. As the water of a creek flowing over stones smooths off the rock’s rough edges, so this ongoing pattern of prayer shapes my soul. But these prayers, as vitally important as they are, do not encapsulate all of my worship of God, the Holy Trinity. These disciplines nourish me even as they open up a prayerful way of living that encompasses my whole life. 

Brother David put it this way in his book Gratefulness, “It happens that people who are in the habit of saying prayers at certain set times have their moments of genuine prayer precisely at times when they are not saying prayers. In fact, they may not even recognize their most prayerful moments as prayer. Others who never say formal prayers are nourished by moments of deep prayerfulness. Yet, they would be surprised to learn that they are praying at all.”

Here, he is getting at something people who identify as spiritual, but not religious, get precisely right: we can experience God as fully in nature as we do in the worship of the church. We get a powerful sense of connection to the divine in the beauty of a sunrise, a star-filled night sky, a waterfall, or through the little world glimpsed inside drops of dew hanging from weeds that died back for winter in a field on a Christmas morning. These moments of wonder point to a deeper reality that binds the world together in ways we could otherwise miss. Those of us who do identify as religious discover that the God we glimpse in creation is known more fully in the specific revelation of scripture, and most fully in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. 

A prayerful way of engaging with creation will reveal that there is infinitely more to life than we might first be able to perceive. This is where the life of prayer comes in. That simple way of being that is at the heart of Anglican spirituality is shaped by weekly Eucharists, where we encounter God in Word and Sacrament in the midst of a given group of people; the daily offices where structured prayers and scripture reading together with intercessions for ourselves and others further hones our spiritual imaginations; and also through other devotions including confession through which we acknowledge the ways we have fallen short. All of these are Means of Grace that the Holy Spirit uses to enlighten the eyes of our hearts. Then we begin to see God in more and more places until we realize that the God who transcends all creation is also working in and through all this fallen world, including you and me.

Our prayers feed our prayerfulness; they give us the eyes to see and know God through scripture, through time of structured prayer, through the sacraments, and all of these point us to God the Holy Trinity, who is beyond all and in all. This allows us not just to see and know the creator of the cosmos in a stunning sunrise, which can be soul-stirring, but to also know the presence of the living God in the emergency room and in Hospice Care, and in the difficult days we face in our lives. 

That Christmas morning with my new Nikon lit a spark of wonder in my soul. Photography continues to encourage me to really see what I am seeing and to pay attention to the world around me. The life of prayer does this work by giving us eyes to see God in ways we would otherwise miss.

As we journey toward Christmas, through this season of Advent, which is a time for preparing not just for a babe being born in Bethlehem, but also for Jesus’ return in glory, may the Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make the light of his face shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Amen.

Holy Purpose – Our patron saint, Deaconess Anna Alexander

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue preached this sermon on September 25, 2025, for the dedication of the chapel at the Episcopal Center in Savannah to the patron saint of the Diocese of Georgia, Deaconess Anna Alexander.

Holy Purpose
I Kings 8

Set aside for holy purpose.

This is what we do when we consecrate a building to serve as a church: we set the church aside solely for the holy purpose of housing our worship of the living God.

This consecration of space is an ancient practice. Our Old Testament lesson describes King Solomon consecrating the Temple in Jerusalem. Before that, Moses had consecrated the Tent of Meeting that served as the focal point of worship for the people of Israel. In each case, they offered sacrifices to God as they prayed for the ground and the tent and temple to be hallowed by the presence of the Spirit of God. This way of setting aside space for holy purpose has continued through the millennia.

The Episcopal Church, and other liturgical churches, has a service to dedicate and consecrate a new church building. We are not using that liturgy this afternoon, as Bishop Middleton Stuart Barnwell dedicated and consecrated this holy space for the congregation of St. Michael and All Angels at the 11:30 am service on November 26, 1944. In the many years since the liturgy that set aside the church, this place has been consecrated by the ongoing prayers or the people of that parish. We can recall today all the many occasions the people of St. Michael and All Angels celebrated in this place, the many joyous Easters and Christmases, the solemn services on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. The many, many baptisms, weddings, and funerals. Those prayers have soaked into these walls, continuing the consecration that began with the church being first dedicated and consecrated.

This afternoon, we undo none of what came before as we dedicate this chapel to the Patron Saint of the Diocese of Georgia, Deaconess Anna Ellison Butler Alexander. We add to all that has come before with prayers to dedicate this chapel to a woman whose steadfast faith in Jesus offers an inspiring example of all that Jesus can and will do through us if we dedicate our lives to God.

Anna Alexander was herself set aside for holy purpose in a liturgy on May 7, 1907. That day at Good Shepherd Episcopal Church in Thomasville, Georgia, Anna knelt as Bishop C.K. Nelson prayed over her asking that “God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost, bless, preserve, and sanctify you” as she was set aside for her work. That liturgy was meant to consecrate Anna, yet in the service the church was acknowledging what was already true as Anna had already dedicated her life to serving God.

The service used that day as Anna knelt surrounded by black Episcopalians who held her in high esteem joined in prayer was the one used for the many women set aside as deaconesses in our church. The Order of Deaconess is mentioned in the Bible, but it died out in the 500s. Beginning in the 1800s, there was a move to recover this ancient order. The first six women were set aside as deaconesses in Baltimore in 1857, so Deaconesses were a part of the Episcopal Church for Anna Alexander’s whole life. Yet though she joined an order that included hundreds and hundreds of other women, Anna’s call was unique.

Yes, she was the only African American in the order of Deaconess, but that is not the distinction I am holding up. In the history of this order that would continue until women were ordained as deacons in the 1970s this was clear, Deaconesses never did anything liturgical. They founded and operated schools, hospitals, orphanages. They had a servant ministry outside of the church. In the church, they participated in worship led by men. This was well-recalled by Deaconess Priscilla, who was the last living woman set aside as a Deaconess until her death in 2022. I met Deaconess Priscilla on a couple of occasions, one in the Dominican Republic and then later at the Community of the Transfiguration in Ohio, where she retired for her last years. She said that to be a Deaconess, “You had to be a pious lady. You had to be a member in good standing in the Episcopal Church. No scandals in your life. You had to have an orderly life.” Deaconess Priscilla also noted that Deaconesses did not have a role in the liturgy of the church.

But this was not true of Deaconess Alexander. While she was already a teacher at the Mann School at St. Cyprian’s Episcopal Church in Darien, before she was the founder of a school, Anna was a church planter. In the fall of 1894, thirteen years before she would consecrate her life to the ministry of a Deaconess, Anna started a church. The school on Pennick Road in west Glynn County would not open until 1902. The church came first. When she was made a Deaconess in 1907, she continued to have a role in the liturgy for many of the services at the Church of the Good Shepherd and all of them in her Parochial School.

Deaconess Alexander described the worship on the school in 1910 writing, “There are many children, large and small, who walk daily for miles to attend the school. They will be in time for devotions in the morning. Just to hear them respond in the Litany on Wednesday and Friday mornings, and to see and hear them find and read the Psalter for the day, will bring tears to the eyes.”

In so many ways, the Deaconess was a singular person whose ministry went well beyond all expectations. On her death in 1947, the Episcopal periodical The Southern Churchman ran a notice of her funeral saying that they had received word of the death of Deaconess Anna E.B. Alexander. They noted, “Deaconess Alexander was a very consecrated woman and the work she did among the people of her race in the little backwoods town of Pennick was very wonderful.”

A very consecrated woman. Consecrated. Devoted to the God that she knew loved the children of her community as she did. Dedicated to serving Jesus and set apart for a holy purpose.

So we gather this afternoon, to dedicate this sacred space, long consecrated by the prayers of those who worshipped here for decades, to a unique leader in our church whose dedication to God assisted her in lifting up her community.

The prayers that hallow these walls have continued since the Parish of St. Michael and All Angels voted to turn the care of this building and grounds over to the Diocese of Georgia. The Church of the Epiphany has found a home in this diocesan chapel and continues the worship. Beyond this, removing the pews has allowed this holy place to house other events. Just last week, Migrant Equity Southeast distributed food to families who have someone in held in detention because of their immigration status. Jesus told us to feed the hungry and in this place where the spiritual hunger of so many people has been fed, we also offered essential food for families in need.

As volunteers and those in need entered and left this chapel, I saw many pausing to look at the interpretive sign in the entrance that in words and photos shares the story of Saint Anna. In this way, many more people will come to be inspired by a woman who dedicated her life to holy purpose, just as we dedicate this chapel to holy purpose in her name.

I trust that some people will enter this chapel and discover a saint who looks more like them so this dedication to her will offer an effective witness to the God who made Anna, gifted her in a unique and powerful way, and used her to holy purpose to raise up generations of children who would have gone by the wayside if not for her loving care.

I hope that this dedication will also inspire us as a Diocese of Georgia to stand against the type of injustice that Deaconess Alexander faced through her entire ministry. Her years as a Deaconess from 1907 to her death in 1947 coincide exactly with the dates that our Diocese held segregated conventions with a separate, but not equal, meeting for black Episcopalians. Anna had to work hard to earn extra money, including through cooking meals for our summer camp that was on St. Simons Island in her day. While Camp Reese had an Anna Alexander Cabin it was described in a 1945 article in The Living Church as “a servants’ house built by the young people and named in honor of Deaconess Alexander.”

Though her work was extolled by the bishops, she was not supported by the diocesan budget, largely raising money from benefactors in the north. We can’t simply hold her up as a paragon, we must also continue to work for justice.

For the work that fell to her to lift-up generations in the years before public education would be offered equally to all is not our work now. Yet, there is much that remains for us to do in order for our churches and communities to reflect the coming Kingdom of God. In that ongoing work, this chapel is an important witness to what God did in our midst through The Deaconess even as this dedication challenges us to dedicate ourselves to holy purpose.

Amen.

Follow this link to learn more about Deaconess Anna Alexander, including a short documentary on her life and ministry as well as information on our work to restore her schoolhouse:

Good Shepherd Schoolhouse

A Matter of Life and Death

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The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue gave this sermon for the clergy renewal of vows and Chrism Mass at Annunciation in Vidalia and Trinity in Cochran on April 14-15, 2025.

A Matter of Life and Death
A Sermon for the Renewal of Vows for Clergy
John 12:1-11 and John 12:20-36

“Lazarus, come out!”

Jesus, the Word made flesh, cries out this command at the grave of his friend with the tracks of the tears still evident in the dust clinging to his face from the long walk to Bethany.

John recalls the incident that marked the beginning of the end for his friend and Rabbi, “The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’”

The Beloved Disciple knew Jesus’ cruciform life shaped the warp and woof of the cosmos. John tells us, “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.”

Just as when the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, the words, “Let there be light!” called all life into being, so the cry “Lazarus, come out!” marked the beginning of the end of the reign of sin and death.

The Fourth Gospel makes this clear in our reading for Monday in Holy Week where we learn that the crowds that flocked to Bethany, “came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead.” Then in our reading for Tuesday in Holy Week, some Greeks seek out “Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’”

Jesus can read the signs. He knows the Chronos of the Passover for this year will align with the Kairos of his sacrificial death. He says, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

Jesus calling Lazarus out from the tomb is the turning point. The Beloved Disciple slows down the steady pace he had maintained. John used ten chapters to propel us from the Word being made flesh through almost all of Jesus’ years of active ministry. The remaining eleven chapters of the Gospel describe the little more than two weeks that passed between Lazarus coming out of the grave and Jesus cooking breakfast on the beach for his disciples.

Four chapters alone are given to Jesus’ last words on the night before he died. Jesus taught us that he is the vine and we are the branches. He prayed for his followers and added, “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”

So that the world may believe.

This is John’s sole purpose in writing his Gospel: to bring people to faith in Jesus. John writes, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.”

John knew the synoptic Gospels but longed to tell the Good News from the cosmic, more mystical dimension he had come to understand, and in the process to emphasize that knowing Jesus is a matter of life and death. Knowing Jesus remains a matter of life and death.

You know this. Ministry offers moments when God shows up in ways that take your breath away. Those moments do not come as often as I wish and there is so much of life in the church from one of these experiences to the next that it is all too easy to despair. We preach from the depths of our being, sharing the Gospel as we know it, only to see parishioners hurting one another, lashing out at us or worse, our families, while others who have faithfully shown up seem to have nothing to draw from when tragedy strikes. There is so much one faces in leading a church. The people of God can be exhausting even on their best days.

Yet, I can’t quit this life of service as I have experienced God showing up in my life and in the lives or others, not always how and when I wish, but with a dependability that has led me to put my trust in God and to encourage others to do the same. This is, of course, not about faith that works solely in the easy times in life. Our faith in Jesus speaks to chaos and darkness so that even at the grave we can sing God’s praises. I know this from sitting at the bedside of those dying in Hospice Care or more painfully standing by parents in the Emergency Room as their child’s life slips away and have also been the father with my daughter’s life hanging in the balance.

I have seen people move from death back to life in ways that fill me with awe. I have prayed with a Mom across years as her son clawed his way back to the light from the deep darkness of a heroin addiction. This was a rocky path, with a series of fits and starts, rehab and relapse, rehab and relapse, desperation, crime, and arrest. Then rehab and relapse, rehab and relapse, until he could find his way back to life. The danger of falling back always remains, but he is now years sober. When this man names the living God brought him back from the dead, I can only agree and give thanks.

The wider view that John offers in his Gospel, beginning with the Word made flesh living among us fits with the Apostle Paul seeing the cosmic battle we face in proclaiming that “Our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12).

The principalities of this present darkness put the Son of God to death on a cross. God brought Jesus from the grave, not resuscitated as Lazarus who would die again, but in a resurrection in which life conquered death. Jesus rose to never die again in order to show us that love defeats hate. The powers of this present age are still trying to convince us that we need to get what we can however we can, while also whispering in our ear that we are not enough, we will never measure up. This is not the path of life, but the way of a world turned from God.

We serve in a time of decline with a rebound from the pandemic that still falls short of our previous heights. It would be easy to simply manage the decline. Yet we serve in communities filled with people who need to know the life-giving Good News. They know churches. They know lots of Christians. They know of Jesus. But many of our neighbors do not know that there is an escape route form the cycle of shame and fear. They need to know they can enjoy the grace of forgiveness and healing. They need to experience the surpassing joy that comes from feeling in their marrow that they matter to the maker of heaven and earth. They need to be unbound and set free from sin and death.

The church needs to be set free as well. For the church isn’t dying, we are killing when we allow our concern to be for preserving an institution rather than being the Body of Christ in the times we are given to serve. Our call is not to save the Church. Our call is to serve as witnesses to the Truth of Jesus. In fractured times, the world needs people who point to the deeper reality that what unites us matters more than what separates us as every human is made in the image and likeness of God.

Without your witness, and the witness of those in your congregation, some of our neighbors would continue to be lost, left out, or marginalized. Your call matters all the more as our communities are so very divided while everyone on each side of the political divide and those caught in the middle all so desperately need the words of love and life rather than hatred and death. Your call as a deacon or priest is of eternal significance.

The same Word of God that said, “Let there be light!” called Lazarus from the grave, and continues to speak life to all on the path that leads to death. This week and every week, our call is not to save the world or even the church. Our call is to faithfully point beyond ourselves to Jesus so that the world may believe. 

Amen.

1Book1Diocese in Easter

Eastertide 2025 – Bishop Frank and Victoria Logue’s Holy Mysteries

In 2025, we will also offer a 1Book1Diocese read for Easter through Pentecost of Holy Mysteries: Encountering the Risen Jesus by Frank and Victoria Logue. As with their Advent through Epiphany devotional Feast of Feasts for 2022-2023, the Eastertide reflections are offered at no cost.

Click here for the Holy Mysteries webpage

These daily devotions weave together the strands of the resurrection appearances found in the Bible with the teachings of some of the notable witnesses to this Easter season throughout church history. Each week, you will read meditations on two of the resurrection appearances. A personal reflection each week on how Frank and Victoria have encountered Jesus are written hoping to prompt readers to consider the ways, both mundane and surprising, they have experienced the risen Jesus.

“We are good at marking the seasons of Advent and Lent,” Bishop Logue said, “but rarely consider the richness of Eastertide. Victoria thought that we should reflect together on the resurrection and the mystagogical teaching of the early Church when, after baptism, new Christians learned more about the sacraments. It has been beneficial to us to spend time reflecting on this season and we trust it will benefit those who take this journey with us.”

They will be posted at the diocesan website and on social media. In addition:

The book is available now for free download

  • PDF file – Holy Mysteries PDF
  • EPub file (for Nook and ebook readers) – Holy Mysteries EPub
  • Kindle file free from April 9-13 – Holy Mysteries Kindle
    Please note that this is listed at 99 cents. We have set up a 5-day free promotion so anyone can download the Kindle version from April 9-13 at no cost (the longest time period Amazon permits distributing a book for free).

Also, available for purchase
No one needs to purchase a copy of the book. For those who choose to do so, we have set it up as print-on-demand at the lowest allowable cost for distribution through online and brick-and-mortar bookstores.

 

A Message for Lent 2025

Lent 2025 – Bishop Frank Logue

The values and practices of good citizenship were a large part of what I learned in my many years as a Boy Scout. Among the merit badges I was required to earn on my path to becoming an Eagle Scout were those for Citizenship in the Community, Citizenship in the Nation, and Citizenship in the World. The badge requirements involved me learning about my responsibilities as well as my rights in each of these realms. 

For the Apostle Paul, his Roman citizenship was critically important to his life and ministry. Yet Paul holds this in relative tension with his faith when in his letter to the Philippians he proclaims that our citizenship is in heaven. I want to use this as a lens for seeing Lent from another angle in asking, “What difference does it make that I am a Citizen of Heaven?” 

To open this up, I want to share how citizenship uniquely mattered to both Paul and the Christians he wrote to in Philippi and then return to our own Lenten journeys. In the Acts of the Apostles, Paul’s preaching in Jerusalem angers a crowd. A riot was near breaking out when the Roman Tribune had Paul bound and brought to the barracks. The book of Acts describes when they had tied him up with thongs, Paul asked the centurion, “Is it legal for you to flog a Roman citizen who is uncondemned?” Paul confirmed his citizenship, then we read, “Immediately those who were about to examine him drew back from him; and the tribune also was afraid, for he realized that Paul was a Roman citizen and that he had bound him.”

Paul had been born a Roman citizen, while most within the bounds of the Roman Empire had no such status. The young Saul, as he was called until his conversion, was issued two pieces of wood connected by a hinge, called a diptych. Inside the pieces wood were wax surfaces that provided both his proof of citizenship and birth certificate. While scripture does not tell of Paul carrying this artifact, we read how he readily proved he was a Roman citizen when challenged. It is not a stretch to assume he had this first-century equivalent of a passport that sometimes worked as a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card.  

Paul knew that citizenship mattered a lot to the Philippians as well. They lived in an important city on a major trade route to the east. After Philippi was destroyed in war, Octavian populated the rebuilt city with military veterans and gave the city a unique status as an ius italicum, meaning Philippians were as much a citizen of Rome as those born in the capitol of the Empire. When Paul told the Philippians, “Our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ” he understands how much Roman citizenship matters to them. 

Paul’s use of the word Savior here is also meaningful as he rarely used the word Savior to describe Jesus. But the Roman Imperial cult described the Emperor as the Savior. The use here is very appropriate for naming the citizenship which matters most is being a citizen of heaven as the one who will save you is Jesus, not the Emperor. 

For Paul, baptized Christians are citizens of heaven. This is not a future promise but a present reality that is to result in a change in worldview marked by changes in behavior. Philippians 1:27 is translated in the NRSV Bible as “Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.” But a closer look at the Greek shows that what we translate as “to live” was a verb that literally means “to citizen.” We have no such verb in English. A rougher translation that gets Paul’s idea across is, “One thing, citizen yourselves in a way worthy of the good news of the Messiah.” 

We too are to conduct our lives in a way that befits the coming reign of God. This means we are to be people of prayer, whose lives witness to the deeper reality that our real hope and trust rest in the God who made us, loves us, and sent Jesus to redeem us. We are to act as Citizens of heaven as we give as Jesus gave, forgive as Jesus forgave, and love as Jesus loved.

If you are looking for a resource that will assist in this journey, our 1Book1Diocese for Lent is Passions of the Soul, a book meant to provoke self-awareness of how our instincts, emotions, and reactions can assist us in breaking chains of thought leading us astray. This practical insight can diagnose what is binding us to unhelpful and potentially destructive patterns. The more we disrupt these unhealthy habits of thought and action, the more our lives will reflect our ultimate citizenship. 

For while many will set their minds on earthly things alone, we know our citizenship is in heaven. It is from there that we are expecting a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ whose triumph over sin and death we will celebrate anew on the other side of our Lenten journey. And as we embark on this season, may the Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make the light of his face shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.

Amen.

1Book1Diocese in Lent and Easter

Lent 2025 – Rowan William’s Passions of the Soul
The 1Book1Diocese read for Lent 2025 will be Rowan Williams’ deeply wise book Passions of the Soul. In this brief text the former Archbishop of Canterbury tells how self-awareness about our instincts and emotions can offer practical assistance in diagnosing what is binding us to unhelpful and potentially destructive patterns of thinking. In the process, Williams shows how these thoughts like pride or anger are not necessarily wrong in themselves if we attend to these thoughts properly. He states, “For the Eastern Christian writers, ‘passion’ is the whole realm of instinct, reaction, coping mechanisms, and this is the level at which complications arise. We cannot live without these things if we are to be human at all; yet unless we understand and in some degree transfigure them, we are trapped in something less than human.”

Williams’ takes an original turn in pairing each of these eight thoughts, that became the seven deadly sins in Western Christianity, with the beatitudes. This accessible introduction to insight from ancient Christian writers offers a pragmatic approach to examining where we can let unhealthy tapes play within our minds. Sewanee’s Professor of Pastoral Theology, Mother Julia Gatta writes, “It is a gem…Passions of the Soul merits multiple readings to savor the superb wordcraft and absorb the wisdom of its pages.”

Group Discussion Guide for Passions of the Soul

Eastertide 2025 – Bishop Frank and Victoria Logue’s Holy Mysteries

In 2025, we will also offer a 1Book1Diocese read for Easter through Pentecost of Holy Mysteries: Encountering the Risen Jesus by Frank and Victoria Logue. As with their Advent through Epiphany devotional Feast of Feasts for 2022-2023, the Eastertide reflections are offered at no cost.

These daily devotions weave together the strands of the resurrection appearances found in the Bible with the teachings of some of the notable witnesses to this Easter season throughout church history. Each week, you will read meditations on two of the resurrection appearances. A personal reflection each week on how Frank and Victoria have encountered Jesus are written hoping to prompt readers to consider the ways, both mundane and surprising, they have experienced the risen Jesus.

“We are good at marking the seasons of Advent and Lent,” Bishop Logue said, “but rarely consider the richness of Eastertide. Victoria thought that we should reflect together on the resurrection and the mystagogical teaching of the early Church when, after baptism, new Christians learned more about the sacraments. It has been beneficial to us to spend time reflecting on this season and we trust it will benefit those who take this journey with us.”

They will be posted at the diocesan website and on social media.

Hurricane Helene Response

We have received a number of inquiries from outside of the Diocese about where to send donations for Disaster relief. The first way to do this is to donate directly to the Bishop’s Fund for Disaster Relief. This money will go directly to helping our parishes and Honey Creek in meeting their deductibles as they repair damages to their properties, which is a needed type of aid that is not covered by other grants. Once those initial costs are covered, any leftover donated funds will be used for additional assistance as needed.

The damaged sanctuary of St. Bartholomew’s in Savannah.

Donations can be sent by check to the diocesan office(18 E 34th Street, Savannah, GA 31401) or by texting “EDOG Relief” to 73256 or by clicking this link for the Realm giving portal: https://onrealm.org/EpiscopalDioces91807/-/form/give/relief

The second way to provide aid across the Diocese is to give to Episcopal Relief and Development. ERD provides grants to dioceses to help them send direct aid to the most vulnerable in their communities impacted by this disaster. Donations can be sent to ERD’s Hurricane Relief fund by clicking this link: https://www.episcopalrelief.org/what-you-can-do/give/donate-now/individual-donation/

Assessing Damage and Assisting Neighbors

Across the many towns heavily impacted by Hurricane Helene, we know of significant damage to four churches and a heavy clean up needed at Honey Creek. Beyond this, many of the communities of the Diocese of Georgia are overwhelmed by the scale of the damage to homes, businesses, and infrastructure. The recovery will be a long one in towns including Valdosta, Douglas, Vidalia, Louisville, Swainsboro, and the Augusta area.

The photo shows a downed tree at Christ Church in Augusta, where the building was spared and the Byllesby Center is continuing to serve the community.

Damaged Church Buildings

The churches at Christ the King in Valdosta, St. Andrew’s in Douglas, St. Bartholomew’s in Savannah, and the parish hall at Good Shepherd in Swainsboro all suffered in the storm. This is in addition to minor damage to many other church buildings as well as so many trees that need to be cut up and removed from church property.

While the insurance will cover much of the cost of the repairs, the deductible in a “named storm” like Helene, is 2% of the value of each of the buildings with a loss. This leaves the congregations with $8-10,000 deductibles or more instead of the usual $1,000. This is a heavy burden the Diocese will lighten. Some of the funds given to our disaster response will assist with this need.

This photo shows one of the two pine trees that crashed through the roof of the parish hall at Good Shepherd in Swainsboro.

Honey Creek Update

Our retreat center was largely spared damage to the buildings. The exceptions are roof damage to the Dock Study building and a pine tree that fell on Jonnard Cottage, leaving minor damage to the roof. But there are a lot of trees down all over the property. Thanks to the Episcopal Camps and Conference Centers network, we will have 20 volunteers from the Diocese of South Carolina’s Camp St. Christopher working on the grounds on Thursday and Friday. If you would like to join their efforts, there is plenty of work to go around. Let our Executive Director, Dade Brantley, know you will be there (dade@honeycreek.org).

The photo shows the pine tree that landed on the corner of the roof at Jonnard Cottage, without breaking through the ceiling.

Assisting Neighbors

There are so many efforts underway, that we can’t report on them all, but across the Diocese, congregations are offering assistance to their communities. This includes the Byllesby Center in Augusta providing daily hot meals. yesterday they fed more than 150 people, while also offering lots of water as the county has a boil water advisory and many are not able to do so without power. Saint Paul’s in downtown Augusta has been opening the church to provide electricity and wifi in a rare Augusta building with air conditioning. They have also offered a meal, with chicken chalupas and ham gumbo served yesterday.

Photo of volunteers stacking up bottled water for distribution at the Byllesby Center.

An Episcopal Relief and Development Grant

Bishop Logue has secured a grant from Episcopal Relief and Development, which will assist in our congregations providing direct assistance to our neighbors in the greatest need. Additional grant funds are available from ERD if we use up this grant and are still responding to individuals and families whose lives are impacted by Hurricane Helene.

If your congregation is prepared to assess the needs and distribute money in the form of gift cards to those with a verified need, please contact Canon Loren Lasch (llasch@gaepiscopal.org). The money may also be used to purchase items like bottled water for distribution.

This crumpled roof covering an aged flat roof is over Christ the King in Valdosta.

Strategic Planning Process

We are receiving surveys now through October 31 for our strategic planning process. Take the survey online here: Episcopal Diocese of Georgia Vision Survey

This survey is a second step, following the 10 in-person and online listening sessions, which with 215 taking part, went very well at identifying some key themes for our work in the coming years. After the survey, our consultants and the committee will offer feedback to our diocesan convention where we will also work further on the themes. This process is designed to offer multiple opportunities to help shape our visions, goals, and strategies. Here is more about what we seek to accomplish with this strategic planning process.

By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope
through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”
-I Peter 1:3

New life in Jesus does not offer a vague, uncertain hope that things might one day improve. Instead, as followers of Jesus, we have the sure and certain knowledge that Jesus is with us now and always. The presence of the living God offers both comfort and challenge. We are called not simply to have hope, but to take actions that reveal the living hope within us. Living hope is embodied in our actions.

The Strategic Planning Process we are entering into this year is not just about creating a sound business plan for the Diocese of Georgia, even though we should expect our vision of how we are to be and what we are to do will make sense from that perspective. This process is primarily intended to help the people of the Diocese discern how the Holy Spirit is leading us into the future. In asking, “What does fidelity to Jesus look like in this moment?” we can confidently look to the Spirit to guide us into new ways of embodying our living hope.

In the visits we make to every congregation of this diocese, Victoria and I see that the resurrection we long for is already happening. We meet people new to the Episcopal Church who have found themselves connecting to their faith in Jesus in Word and Sacrament in the community of their Episcopal Church. We routinely meet people of every age and stage of life who are as grateful as we are to have found a home in this corner of the vineyard.

In addition, I see the new life taking root in places where parishes have begun to work with other Episcopal congregations as well as ecumenical partners. When we move outside our red doors to engage with our neighbors and to work with other churches, the Spirit shows up. When we live in hope, we give hope to others. New life is already among us. The question is not the one that faced Ezekiel, “Can these bones live?” The answer to that is clearly, “yes” based on the evidence around us. Our call is to join with what God is already doing as we practice resurrection. This is the Christian call to die to what has been to let Christ be born in us anew, as individuals and as a Diocese. We strengthen our faith and deepen our trust in Jesus when we move from having hope to living hope.

+Frank

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue, Bishop


Strategic Planning Committee
Bishop Logue has named eleven members of the Diocese with diverse perspectives to work with our consultants on this planning process characterizing them to Diocesan Council in a recent meeting: The two teens on the team have experience in their own congregations, diocesan youth programs, and with the churchwide Episcopal Youth Event. Five additional lay persons bring their views from a variety of sizes of congregations and sizes of communities they serve. The four clergy likewise bring a depth of insight from the different places they serve. Chairing this committee is Carey Wooten, who has gained a broader view of the Diocese and its ministries while heading our Leading with Grace training.

Billy Alford, Dean Emeritus of Augusta
Amy Ariail, St. Thomas in Thomasville
Bob Baranko, St. Patrick’s in Albany
Jody Grant, Our Savior in Martinez
Cam Mathis, St. George’s in Savannah
Dwala Nobles, Good Shepherd in Brunswick
Becky Rowell, Christ Church Frederica
Sandy Sandbach, Christ Church in Valdosta
Kelly Steele, St. Peter’s in Savannah
Charles Todd, Trinity in Statesboro
Carey Wooten, Calvary in Americus (Chair)

Diocesan Offices to Move

A Message from Bishop Frank Logue

Summary: I am writing to let you know that the Standing Committee has concurred with my decision to sell our current Diocesan office on 34th Street in Savannah and to move to a new Episcopal Center in the former St. Michael and All Angels building on Washington Avenue and Waters Avenue in Savannah. This move will eliminate all debt on our balance sheet while adding more than $1 million in investments to support the diocesan budget and will have your bishop and diocesan staff serving from an office in a place offering greater accessibility where other ministry is also happening.

The Former St. Michael and All Angels’ Property
When the Vestry of St. Michael and All Angels in Savannah voted to close the parish and give the keys to me as bishop as of July 1, 2023, we continued the ministries taking place, that were serving more than 350 people each week, while deciding what to do with the facilities. We did not want to lose this prime location in Savannah, but a more serious concern, not immediately evident, was the burials on the grounds and in the courtyard of the church. Working with the Standing Committee, we opted to sell the rectory next door, which had been a plan first put forward by the parish vestry. That sale is funding our catching up on all of the deferred maintenance in the church building including a new roof and addressing several serious issues raised by structural engineers. We were looking for non-profit groups to lease the space on the second floor of the parish hall in order to cover the cost of maintaining the physical plant. We found some interest, but no tenants. During this time, the Rev. David Lemburg provided a priestly presence to the ongoing ministries, and Mrs. Judy Naylor-Johnson continued to assist with the administration of the space, as Canon Katie Willoughby and Mr. Daniel Garrick, our Canon for Administration and Assistant Administrator, went above and beyond to make this work. That’s when the Aha happened.

The Aha Moment
I was walking the space soon after our Presiding Bishop-Elect announced that he was going to forgo the expensive installation liturgy at Washington National Cathedral. I looked at the rooms again wondering why we could not find a tenant and it dawned on me that the space would best serve the Diocese. I wondered why it had not occurred to me before as it seemed obvious in that moment. I am grateful for Presiding Bishop-Elect Sean Rowe’s leadership, which helped me envision a decision that was much better stewardship for the Diocese of Georgia. I immediately engaged with the Standing Committee on this new possible direction. Canon Willoughby worked with our project manager for the site on the costs of making the new location work for our offices as I considered the costs and benefits of making this move. 

The Details
The current Diocesan House is a beautiful building that is costly to maintain, in addition to other shortcomings. The layout of the building has limited accessibility, especially for people with disabilities. The building itself is not accessible, as navigating stairs is required to enter, and the first-floor layout precludes the holding of confidential conversations as there are no doors on that level. While it has been a good site for the bishop and staff since 2018, moving to another, more workable ministry site provides opportunities to be more accessible, welcoming, and outreach-focused.

I have remained concerned about the debt the Diocese has maintained on its balance sheet. When I was elected bishop, the Diocese of Georgia had the much-discussed Honey Creek debt that we paid off in full in December 2022. We also had notes in our audits of internal loans from our investments of $400,000 used to buy our current office, and $115,000 for the Campus Ministry House in Statesboro. Two recent bequests allowed us to pay off the debt on the house near Georgia Southern and to reduce the debt on our offices to $200,000. The sale of our offices on 34th Street will clear that remaining note on debt on our audits while yielding more than $1 million to invest with the Board of the Corporation so that an appropriate annual draw can increase the diocesan budget. This wonderful windfall from investing in this downtown Savannah property in 2018 will assist in realizing the vision that emerges in our strategic planning process now underway.

The benefits of the new location include having more ample parking and better, more accessible meeting spaces for diocesan gatherings while maintaining existing ministry services in the area including operating a food pantry and providing space for community groups to gather. Additionally, the worship space will become a diocesan chapel that can still be used by the Episcopal Church of the Epiphany, while also being available when helpful to the Diocese. Mostly, this move emphasizes ministries happening concurrently in the same space, while offering the potential for much more.

This decision is about focusing on what matters most. Worship is the heart of ministry and so all of our congregations matter. The work of your bishop and diocesan staff is also important ministry as is feeding our neighbors in need and otherwise engaging with the community around us. Having these differing ways of living into our faith in Jesus all present in our new Episcopal Center matters. We are doing this in a way that eliminates debt and increases our investments in the Board of the Corporation as well as our investments in our neighbors. I believe this move is an important witness that will advance the Gospel.

pax et bonum,
+Frank

Eligible Voters for Diocesan Convention

A new policy of the Diocese of Georgia, as announced in January, calls for the Secretary of Convention to publish a list of eligible voters for our 120 days before the Diocesan Convention starts. The Standing Committee approved our beginning this best practice as a part of their setting policies and procedures for a bishop election years before we need to follow the full process:

Policies and Procedures for a Bishop Election PDF

Other dioceses have faced serious conflict over who can vote in a bishop election. To avoid those concerns when we elect a new bishop at some point in the future, the Standing Committee’s policy states that the Secretary of Convention shall annually publish the number of delegates for each congregation and the list of the canonically resident clergy entitled to a vote in keeping with the canons of the Diocese. Acting in her role as the Secretary of Convention, Canon Katie Willoughby is publishing here those lists 121 days prior to the diocese meeting in Tifton.

Delegate Count

The Canons of the Diocese of Georgia approved in 2022 define the delegate count as follows: Every Congregation shall be entitled to send lay delegates to convention with the number of delegates determined by the Average Sunday Attendance (ASA) of the congregation as “reported on the previous three parochial reports extant.”

  • 2 delegates for congregations with 99 or less in ASA
  • 3 delegates for congregations with 100-199 in ASA
  • 4 delegates for congregations with 200 or more in ASA

Click here to see the 2024 delegate count.

Address any concerns with the delegate count to the Secretary of Convention at kwilloughby@gaepiscopal.org.

Canonically Resident Clergy

Clergy serving under the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical authority of a diocese (typically the diocesan bishop) are canonically resident in that diocese. All deacons and priests canonically resident on the list linked below are entitled to seat and voice in every convention of the Diocese. Our canons require that those voting in our conventions, including a bishop election, have a current, active role in ministry within the Diocese

Canon I.1.3 of the Diocese of Georgia’s Constitution and Canons offers three ways a canonically resident member of clergy may have vote in convention. A member of clergy must be:

  1. ecclesiastically employed within the Diocese; or 
  2. continually exercising clerical functions in some Congregation within the Diocese; or 
  3. exercising a ministry specially approved by the Bishop.

In announcing the list to the clergy in a prior email, Bishop Logue clarified point number three above saying, “I am of the firm conviction that someone serving as a supply priest meets that last test as does someone serving as a peer coach in our coaching network as could other service in the Diocese whether compensated or not. On the current attached list, supply priests on whom we absolutely rely for our common life are the prime reason I list someone as exercising a ministry specially approved by me.”

Bishop Logue added, “The main reason for not having a vote is that the person is serving outside the Diocese as often happens in retirement, or they are serving as an associate in another diocese during a first call out of seminary while maintaining their connection here. The second reason is that the member of clergy has needed to fully retire for health or other reasons who is not, with only very rare exception, regularly serving in a church.”

Click here for the voting status of canonically resident clergy.

Address any concerns with the status of canonically resident clergy to the President of the Standing Committee, the Rev. Walter Hobgood. Contact the diocesan office through Canon Willoughby above for an email address for him. 

Presiding Bishop-Elect Sean Rowe

By Bishop Frank Logue

In a first-ballot election among a slate of five well-qualified candidates, the bishops of the Episcopal Church elected the Rt. Rev. Sean Rowe to become the next Presiding Bishop. At 49, he is the youngest person chosen to lead our church. I met Sean in the fall of 1997 when we both arrived at Virginia Theological Seminary. At 22, he was the youngest person in our class of more than forty seminarians. He would go on to be the youngest bishop in the Anglican Communion for many years after being elected on the first ballot at the age of 32 from a slate of four well-qualified candidates seeking to be the Bishop of the Diocese of Northwest Pennsylvania. When you get to know Sean, the pattern is not surprising.

He is the one so many of us in the House of Bishops go to for counsel. By the time of his installation as Presiding Bishop, he will have served for 17 years in this unique call. He has a pastor’s heart and knows the role well. He loves our church and yet sees how we must change to respond to the challenges of decreased membership, giving, and attendance. Yet, he is not interested at all in the institution for its own sake, but for the sake people who need to know Jesus.

In seminary, I immediately came to respect his keen intellect, deep faith in Jesus, and his often surprising sense of humor. In a homiletics class, we each found our very different voices as preachers alongside one another. While there is only one Bishop Michael Curry, Sean will always seriously engage with scripture in a sermon that challenges you or challenges our church. The sermon he preached for the closing Eucharist of the 81st General Convention is a perfect example of his seeking to put faith into practice: Sermon for Closing Eucharist

Sean said, “And finally, what about our idolatry of structures and practices that exclude and diminish our witness? We have to get it together. That’s going to mean laying some things down.” By the end of the day, an announcement went out to the church that our Presiding Bishop-Elect canceled the big, expensive installation at Washington National Cathedral opting for a small service in the chapel of our Episcopal Church Center that will be broadcast to the church online.

The bishops discerned this call and it was a surprising one for outside observers, but the spiritual discernment we did led us to see Bishop Sean Rowe as the right Presiding Bishop for the nine years ahead. He is signaling bold leadership saying “God is calling the Episcopal Church into a new future.” What you can know about our new Presiding Bishop is that he is a good man, a faithful pastor, and a devoted follower of Jesus who appreciates what our church can offer a lost and hurting world too much to let us languish.

Commencement Sermon – School of Theology

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue preached this sermon for the St. Luke School of Theology Commencement at Sewanee: The University of the South in All Saints’ Chapel on May 10, 2024.

Working Together
1 Corinthians 3:5-11 and John 4:31-38


The hours of lectures, reading, and taking tests are so very long.

The days can also pass slowly as you toil into the night studying, researching, and writing. 

Yet, the years of working toward an advanced degree are surprisingly short. 

After what feels like a very long time, that somehow passed quickly, you discover that all the other lemmings have jumped off the cliff and your turn is up. The DMin thesis has been defended or the GOEs are done or, in whatever way applies to you, every box has been checked and you need only pick up your degree to move forward in a new season of ministry enriched by your time on The Mountain.

You, the School of Theology Class of 2024, have been gifted with a very different experience than many fellow alumni. Your decision to pursue ordination or advanced studies was made in the midst of a global pandemic. For those of you who are MDiv students, unlike the classes immediately before you, you were permitted to worship in the Chapel of the Apostles in your junior year. Masking precautions remained and while you were living into the EQB ideal of “how good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity” you did so without sharing the chalice in the Eucharist.

You have not only learned of how the experience of the Babylonian Exile formed the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, you also experienced exile from Hamilton Hall for the past year and a half. Because of, or in spite of, these challenges, you have relied on each other, your professors, and others in your circle of support which has given you a key to ministry: teamwork. You know this well as you have supported one another. 

As we read in the first letter to the Christians in Corinth, “we are God’s servants, working together.” Ministry is inherently teamwork where we work alongside others and build on their work. More importantly, even the team of people does not work alone as “neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth.”

Jesus puts it this way in our reading from John’s Gospel, “‘One sows and another reaps.’ I sent you to reap that for which you did not labour. Others have laboured, and you have entered into their labour.”

The gift nestled in our propers for this commencement is clarity that while we long to see lives changed by the Good News of Jesus, that metanoia does not depend on us alone or even on us primarily. Everything that needs to be done has already been done by Jesus. The grace of someone experiencing a conversion of heart and mind depends neither on dazzling homiletical prowess nor on gorgeous liturgies. The metamorphosis we long for people to experience is Holy Spirit work. You can’t earn it. You can’t deserve it. But you do get the immense joy of sharing this love of God with others.

This overwhelming, audacious Good News is life-giving. Those with whom you minister have been fed a steady diet teaching them that they are not enough. Casual cruelty on the elementary school playground or betrayal by friends in our teen years, and all the experiences of a lifetime when others see us with harsh judgment, can shake anyone. Many people know the feeling of never having measured up. You and I know that as well in our own lives. But we also know the loving care of the Holy Trinity. We know that while there is much we can do to amend our lives, no one needs to be taller, thinner, prettier, funnier, fitter, smarter, younger, more mature, or anything other than the person God made them to be in order to be loved by the creator of the Cosmos. If this awareness feels beside the point in a world on fire, remember that failure to see every other person as a sibling is at the root of all the pain and suffering we do see. 

This is not to do away with our knowledge of sin and our need for redemption. I am not sweeping aside the need for repentance and amendment of life. Instead, I want to remind you that your ministry is in communities where so many people need the grace, mercy, and compassion we have found in Jesus as much as a thirsty person needs water.

Yet, we are not immune to the cult of earning and deserving. If your goal is to be successful in ministry, know that this is a never-ending race set at an unsustainable pace. Someone will always seem to be effortlessly thriving in ministry. Another will get an amazing call to some plum position. Life, especially life in the church, can become yet another place where we feel we never measure up. The antidote to this poison of perfectionism is coming to know deep in your bones that only God can give the growth.

If neither Apollos nor Paul are anything, who are we to seek to be the greatest of lay leaders, deacons, priests, and bishops. The church has suffered much from those who want to be a Great Bishop and no less from those who want to make their mark as a scholar or a pastor, priest, and teacher. This is why the word from scripture about working together matters. We work together with lay leaders, clergy colleagues, and most importantly the Holy Spirit. Your ministry is not now, nor will it ever be, about you. Our common call is not to achieve great things for God. Our common call is to faithfully follow Jesus. In any key decisions in ministry, ask the question of what faithfulness to Jesus looks like in this moment. Respond as well as you can with what you know at that time and trust God with the rest. This is the life of faith and so it is the life of ministry.

To this call to faithfulness, I need to add counter-intuitive wisdom from G.K. Chesterton, “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.”

I say this to describe what fidelity looks like in the real day-to-day work of serving God through the church: “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” There is much in ministry that is worth doing and doing well including prayer, reading scripture, teaching classes, leading Bible studies, planning liturgies, giving sermons, visiting the sick and shuts ins, being with those at the end of their life, then caring for their families after a death, not to mention stewardship campaigns and budget meetings. All of these and so much more need you to do them to the best of your ability. But if they are worth doing well, they are also worth doing poorly.

For example, you must have spiritual disciplines which you maintain in order to nourish you from the deep springs of living water which they offer. But when you have two funerals during the week and Sunday is coming fast while you are trying to finish preparing the confirmands for the Bishop’s visit, it is okay if morning devotions replace Morning Prayer, or you intercede for those on your prayer list as you drive to the funeral home. Be gentle on yourself, not everything can be done equally well every day. Sermons need more time than seems possible, and sometimes you simply won’t be able to give them all they need. As your liturgics professor has taught you, “Done is better than good.” The Holy Spirit will bless what you can do that week. Faithfulness is the goal, not greatness. Don’t let your idea of the perfect prevent the possible.

The church has suffered enough from narcissists with a messianic complex. You and I have been wounded and we have experienced healing, but we are not The Healer. Those of us who want to do this work over the long haul without getting close to that narcissistic terrain need people with whom we can share our real struggles. Get a WhatsApp, GroupMe, or private Facebook group for your sake and the sake of the church. A therapist, a spiritual director, a colleague group, activities and friends not connected with the church—these are essentials rather than options—as are spiritual disciplines that nourish your faith day-by-day.

Being gentle on yourself is not an excuse to drop your private prayers and devotions and leave the reading of scripture to sermon prep alone. That is not what steadfast devotion looks like. Yet the ebb and flow of ministry means doing all things well will always be beyond your grasp.

“If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly,” also, quite surprisingly, applies to love. The most important part of serving God in the Church is to love your people, those in your congregation and those in the community around your church. This is at the heart of any call to follow Jesus who distilled all the Law and the Prophets to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.” 

Loving your neighbor includes everyone made in the image and likeness of God, so it certainly includes the person who is chairing the parking lot conversations that have turned far less than charitable. Loving your people is everything, and it is, therefore, worth doing badly on the days when you can’t love them perfectly. Love is an act of will, so choose to love them even when it is hardest to see the image of God within them. Jesus gave his life for the salvation of the person making your life difficult. You will find a way back to loving him or her if you decide to do so and ask God to give you the grace to love. The person most difficult to love can also be yourself. You are also in need of the grace and mercy you want for others. You too need this loving kindness. This matters because the Gospel is not “get your act together and God could possibly come to love you.” The wonderfully Good News we get the joy to share is that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. 

The fate of the church does not depend on you, or even on all of us together. Yet our faithfulness does matter. The deepest center of our call is to fall in love with the God who made us and loves us again and again and again and in so doing remain steadfast in servant ministry, knowing that God is the one to give the growth. When you can manage this balancing act of ministry well, do so delighting in the knowledge that God is doing more than you could ever accomplish on your own. 

And on all the days when this call seems much too heavy, remember that the church is not yours to save and, “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” Pray. Read the Bible. Reflect with your spiritual director. Share your sorrows with your colleagues. Muddle through as best you can and occasionally pause and take note of the ways the Holy Spirit keeps showing up in your life. The hours and days can be so very long, but the years will pass quickly as God works in, through, and around you, and all those on your team, to build up the Body of Christ. In this there is great joy.

Amen.

The Georgia 200 Fund: Support Strategic Planning

Submitted by the Very Rev. Tom Purdy, Dean of the Southeast Convocation and Rector of Church Church Frederica on St. Simons Island

The Georgia 200 Fund has been created by leaders from the three founding parishes of the Diocese of Georgia – Christ Church, Savannah, Christ Church, Frederica, and Saint Paul’s, Augusta – to raise funds to cover the cost of comprehensive strategic planning for the Diocese of Georgia. 200 years ago leaders from those three parishes had a vision to create the Diocese of Georgia. Now, as we look ahead to the next 200 years, those three parishes see the importance of our Bishop’s call for a comprehensive strategic plan for the Diocese.

All parishes and Episcopalians in the Diocese of Georgia are invited to make a gift to the Georgia 200 Fund in support of this important work. This invitation is not coming from the Bishop or Diocesan leadership bodies; it is not a capital campaign. The three original parishes in Georgia have come up with the idea for this fund and have made the first gifts to the fund in the hope that others will join them by making their own contributions – we are all in this together. Gifts to the Georgia 200 Fund can be sent to the Diocese with the notation “Georgia 200 Fund” or by giving online here. Georgia 200 Fund contributions will only be used for the implementation of a Diocesan strategic plan. If any funds remain at the end of the process, those funds will be put towards initiatives the strategic plan might identify.

While the work to select a firm to do this work is ongoing, the anticipated cost of a comprehensive strategic plan from discovery to listening to completion could be as high as $50,000. This amount is not in our diocesan operating budget, nor is there a likely source of funding from current revenue streams. The three founding parishes have already pledged $35,000, combined, towards this effort and hope that others will help us reach the goal.

We have much to celebrate in our 200-year history as the Diocese of Georgia! The Georgia 200 Fund acknowledges that we have a bright future and that this strategic plan will help set the stage for the next 200 years of a faithful Episcopal presence in Georgia. Thank you for prayerfully considering support for the Georgia 200 Fund.

Strategic Plan Next Steps

Bishop Logue Address ConventionIn his Address to the 2023 Diocesan Convention, Bishop Logue said, “It is time for us to work together on a strategic plan for the Diocese of Georgia.” Since that announcement, he has worked with Canon Katie Easterlin, the Rev. Becky Rowell, and the five-member Executive Council of Diocesan Council to send out a Request for Proposals (RFP) to individuals and entities that assist in facilitating this work. The RFP resulted in hearing from 14 consultants by the March 15 deadline. The Executive Council has been evaluating the proposals and meets this week to further that discernment to name the person or group to facilitate this process by the end of this month.

Every parishioner of the Diocese of Georgia will have the opportunity to assist in the creation of this plan through listening sessions around the Diocese, as well as the option to submit responses online. The listening process will result in an interim report from the facilitator(s) reviewed with the Diocesan Council and Standing Committee and the Bishop and Staff by fall. With feedback from those groups, we will use the diocesan convention this November as a time for further work toward the plan.

Following our convention, the facilitator(s) will deliver their final work naming the overall vision and key goals that will inform the strategic planning process. This will go to a Strategic Planning Committee to be appointed by the bishop with approval of Diocesan Council. That group will be responsible for working with the bishop on an executive summary, followed by comprehensive, detailed plan that identifies: shared vision, goals, objectives, strategies and tactics, while naming responsible partners and their roles, measures and outcomes, as well as identifying resource development strategies.

“This looks and sounds like a business process,” Bishop Logue said, “but we are people of prayer who know that the Holy Spirit shows up when we stop to discern what fidelity to Jesus looks like in this moment. I trust the Spirit will use this process to show us the path toward greater faithfulness as followers of Jesus.”

An Easter Message from Bishop Logue

Easter 2024
The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue
Bishop, Episcopal Diocese of Georgia

One April morning while hiking on the Appalachian Trail in Tennessee, Victoria and I endured hypothermic conditions in an unexpected snowstorm. It had been raining when we ducked into an old barn that served as a trail shelter. During the night, the temperature dropped. Pelting rain turned to heavy snow with the official snowfall count at 13 inches.

We hunkered down in our sleeping bags all day hoping for better weather in the morning. We were not properly geared up for a winter backcountry trip as we had packed to hike the whole AT in a single hike. The next day brought more wind and cold. Victoria and I left the sheltered confines of the barn as the wind drove through our insufficient layers of clothes.

Finding our way was a serious issue. The Appalachian Trail is marked by an unbroken chain of two-inch by six-inch white paint marks which are the common thread that holds together the 2,150-mile path from Georgia to Maine. This system of paint marks is the perfect solution to marking a trail until you are thigh deep in snow and every tree is powder coated with snow blown by wind. The gusts that day were reported to exceed 35 miles per hour.

This was the most difficult time we faced in terms of making sure we were on the path, but it was far from the only time. What you do when you realize you have lost your way is to find the last clear white paint blaze and look for signs of where to go next.  

The Gospels record many of the incidents when Jesus’ first followers came to see that their Rabbi was not just a great teacher, but truly the Messiah, the Son of God. But the whole trajectory of the Jesus Movement as they understood it up until then, came grinding to a halt when one of their own betrayed their teacher. Most everyone scattered into the night. The next day, the unimaginable happened. The one they knew to be God made man was put to death on a cross. And so, in the face of their own pain and fear, they went back to the last white paint blaze. They gathered back in the Upper Room where the previous night’s Passover must have seemed so long ago.

The resurrected Jesus would, of course, reveal himself to them all, even rounding up the lost sheep, like Thomas, who missed his first appearance in the Upper Room. In the years that followed, they followed the way of Jesus in the face of persecution and even death. And when they were uncertain, or afraid, they could always return to the places they had last seen God show up as confirmation that they remained on The Way of Jesus.

That bitter cold April morning on the Appalachian Trail in Tennessee, Victoria and I set out unsure of how the hike would go with the markers covered in snow. The oddest thing happened. A hunting dog that had clearly been waiting out the storm in the shelter below us now proceeded to lead us as if it were our pet out for a hike, running up ahead and then coming back to us. The hunting dog was adept at working its way around and over the drifted snow. The snow was usually calf deep, with occasional drifts that were thigh deep for me and hip deep for Victoria, when it was at its worst.

As we hiked in the bone-numbing cold of a driving wind, we came to see that the dog unerringly knew the path as from time to time we did find another white paint blaze. While crossing over a grass-topped mountain, the dog cut down hard to the left off the mountain while the well-worn trail, though covered in snow, clearly continued straight ahead. We trusted that the dog knew the way, so we descended steeply from the ridge into ever-deepening snow. At the tree line, we saw it. A white paint blaze showed through the mostly snow-blasted bark on a tree. That odd encounter with a dog became not a coincidence, but a God-incident, in which we saw we should remain on the Appalachian Trail to the end.

These God moments are meaningful, but they are not ever present. Each day or even every week will not give you an incontrovertible sign of God’s presence. When I hit a time where I want God to show up but fail to feel the Spirit’s presence, I look back on recent occasions when I have seen the Holy Spirit showing off and I know I remain on the right path. I trust that if I venture in the wrong direction, that God will reveal that as well.

How did God last show up in your life? Look for the signs of God’s presence in the weeks to come. Treasure the times in which God has been real for you as the risen Jesus is with you during this season of Easter, through the times when you don’t feel it and in the moments when you do. God’s presence and power are with you always, even to the end of the age.

May the Lord bless you and keep you; make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you and give you peace. Amen.

+Frank

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue
Bishop, Episcopal Diocese of Georgia
Easter 2024

Waking from the Nightmare

A sermon from the Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue for the reaffirmation of ordination vows
Trinity Episcopal Church in Statesboro, Georgia on March 25, 2024
St. Anne’s Episcopal Church in Tifton, Georgia on March 26, 2024


Waking from the Nightmare
A Homily for the Reaffirmation of Ordination Vows
Philippians 2:3–11

Saul lies in the dust on the road to Damascus. Stopped in his angry tracks by a light from heaven that flashes around him, he hears a voice saying, 

“Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

“Who are you, Lord?”

“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.”

Saul now knows that everything he once knew with certainty was an illusion. He thought he was fighting the heretics on behalf of a vengeful God. His self-righteous quest was designed to both appease an angry God and propel him into the religious elite. His rigid religiosity left him blinded to the grace of God found in Jesus.

Then God speaks to Ananias in a vision to send him to Saul. When Ananias lays hands on him, Saul has something like scales fall from his eyes. Saul awakens from the nightmare to see the world anew.

In a carefully crafted passage in his Letter to the Philippians, the one-time persecutor of those on The Way writes, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”

Paul is writing about metanoia, which literally means to have an “after mind” or your mind after being reconfigured in a metamorphosis like the one he experienced on the road to Damascus. We describe this type of transformation as a change of heart and mind. Translators like to opt for the most economical way of conveying a concept with a single word standing in for another single word. So that the word “repent” stood in for a change in how someone sees the world and their place in it. Jesus began his public ministry with the brief proclamation: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” 

The word repent is metanoia in the Greek, which encompasses repentance, but means so much more. The aftermind or converted or transformed mind refers to seeing everything in a completely new way. This is more like waking from a nightmare to see the world rightly. This change of heart was perhaps best captured in a Neil Diamond song made into a hit by The Monkeys. It became a hit again thanks to the greatest movie credits of all time at the end of Shrek. You know the words:

I thought love was only true in fairy tales
Meant for someone else, but not for me
Love was out to get me
That’s the way it seemed
Disappointment haunted all my dreams

This is a description of the Before Mind. Our thinking pattern before the metamorphosis. Then a moment in time causes the singer to have their perceptions of the world changed forever. This After Mind is described in this unforgettable chorus:

 Then I saw her face, now I’m a believer
Not a trace of doubt in my mind
I’m in love
I’m a believer, I couldn’t leave her if I tried

This same transformation happens to Saul when he encounters Jesus, comes to know him for who he is, and falls in love. This change of heart and mind is what happens to Andrew, Simon Peter, James, and John that has them walk away from their nets. This moment of recognition of the truth of the Good News of Jesus changes the heart of Mary Magdalene, who becomes the apostle to the apostles after Jesus’ resurrection. This change in seeing the world causes the first followers of Jesus to face persecution and even death for the love of God they had found in their savior. Down through the centuries, we see saints in every age in whose lives we find a metanoia, a revolution, that takes over their hearts and minds after which life is never, ever the same.

This right view of the world is not the dominant perspective. We serve communities where people made in the image and likeness of God are trapped in a nightmare. The evidence is there with addictions of every kind, not just to alcohol and drugs both legal and illegal, but in people whose justifying stories are found in work, romance, exercise, parenting, and more. In his book Seculosity, David Zahl details how with organized religion declining, people fill the void in their lives by making other everyday pursuits into a form of worship. As everyone is entranced by the same illusion of self-sufficiency and a need to control, this can be difficult to see, but through our Gospel lenses, we know the truth that we don’t have to earn or deserve the love of God we have found in Jesus. We don’t have to prove ourselves to be enough, as Jesus is enough.

This is where Saul, the promising young man who wanted to be successful as a religious leader, can lend a hand. In the chapter after our reading, Paul would tell the church in Philippi, “Whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”

Compared to knowing Jesus, Paul came to see that everything he had achieved was “rubbish.” That’s the cleanest word the NRSV translators could come up with. The venerable King James Version didn’t mince words as Paul tells it like it is, “I have suffered the loss of all things and count them but dung.” 

This is Paul with the after-mind that followed his conversion seeing that he was addicted to the esteem of others. The reality is that if we decide that what matters is to be successful, then we jump on a never-ending treadmill. Someone always has more and has it better. Life, even life in the church, becomes a contest, and we find ourselves never measuring up. Paul describes that way of life with a poop emoji. Compared to the surpassing grace of God, striving for success is a load of crap.

We know that love is not only true in fairy tales. It is not just for someone else, but for you. The surpassing knowledge of the love of God found in the face of Jesus is yours now. 

The grace is that others coming to experience this same conversion of heart and mind does not depend on dazzling homiletical prowess or stunning liturgies that make the Gospel real. There is, of course, nothing wrong with good preaching and beautiful liturgies as long as we know that everything that needs to be done has already been done by Jesus. The metamorphosis we long for people to experience is Holy Spirit work. You can’t earn it. You can’t deserve it. But you can share this love of God with others. They need to awaken from the nightmare of the endless treadmill of deserving. They need to awaken to experience the reality of God’s love.

Our common call is not to achieve great things for God. Our common call is to faithfully follow Jesus. This call we are gathered today to renew is a call to fall in love over and over and over again. For we have seen the love of God in the face of Jesus and we couldn’t leave that love if we tried.

Amen. 

Testify to the Light – A Mass of the Resurrection sermon for Louise Shipps

Louise Huntington Shipps

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue gave this sermon at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Clemson, South Carolina on March 9, 2024.

Testify to the Light
A Sermon for the Mass of the Resurrection for Louise Huntington Shipps
Revelation 21:1-17 and John 1:1-14

We begin in the dark.

“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.”

Formless. Dark. Then comes the spark of creation and God calls light out of the darkness in these first three verses of sacred scripture.

Our Gospel reading echoes this ancient theme in the luminous prologue of John’s Gospel which retells the story of creation, starting in the same place as Genesis, “In the beginning.” 

The evangelist writes, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

He goes on to tell us, “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

In the moment of creation, light shines in the darkness.

We gather to give thanks to God for the life of Louise Huntington Shipps, who through her art, as through her whole life of selfless service, testified to the light of the glory of God shining in the face of Jesus. The moment of creation is such an apt text for Louise. Trained as a commercial artist, graduating cum laude from Boston University, she knew how to bring life to a blank canvas. Across decades she created drawings, paintings, and collages that gave a window into her perspective on life. She would teach others to nurture that same creative spark at St. Pius X High School in Savannah, the Gertrude Herbert Institute of Art in Augusta, and in hands on workshops at Kaunga, a Episcopal Conference Center in the mountains of western North Carolina. Her reverence of God and love of art were further inspired by her travels around the world bringing Louise to focus solely on the highly structured process of writing icons in the Greek and Russian Orthodox style. 

Beginning in 1987, she took a series of trips to Russia where she learned of theology written in paint in a series of definite steps. She studied for five years with a Russian iconographer who lived in New York, learning to write the images beginning with the darkest tones, working toward the light. 

In 2006, Louise told a reporter from the Savannah Morning News, “When you get involved in Eastern iconography you study church history, art, spirituality and theology. It’s a step-by-step process of enlightenment and inner illumination.”

Enlightenment. This move from darkness to light is wired into creation from its first moments. 

In our reading from Revelation, we move to the new heaven and the new earth. In this text, we find embedded, a different shift from dark to light as the grief we know in our earthly lives is met with the presence and power of the Holy Trinity. We read of the age to come:

God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.

We gather in mourning for the loss of a dear friend, mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. She lived a very long and extraordinarily full life and yet there is the pain of grief.

After her recent fall, when doctors and nurses were working to return her to health and it became clear that might not be the path this time, I was reminded of an email I received from Bishop Harry Shipps in 2016 as he learned his lungs were riddled with cancer cells from asbestos. He had been a steady correspondent with me for 19 years on the day he sent the email telling me that this would likely end his life. I wrote to Louise’s daughter, Rebecca, who had been a steady daily presence at her side with my recollection of this email. I said, “I recall your father saying something to the effect of given what they are telling me, it is time to turn toward the sunset.”

I was right about Harry trusting in the sure and certain hope he held in Jesus Christ, but I had the image reversed. Harry was married to an iconographer, who knew well that we don’t walk toward darkness, but toward the light. I found his email this week. He wrote of the issues that bear on his remaining time as being, “Quality of life for me and also for dear Louise.” He said, 

“If either deteriorates too far, I will end treatment and walk proudly into this glorious sunrise. 90 plus wonderful years have been given me and 63 years of delight with dear Louise.”

Harry knew death not as darkness, but as light.
Not a sunset, but a glorious sunrise.

This is the theology that supported every icon Louise ever wrote. Shadows moving toward light. Chaos moving toward order. Grief moving toward the enlightenment that comes from knowing that nothing can or ever will separate us from the love of God. This is the rock on which Harry and Louise Shipps anchored their hope.

Here I need to confess, that Bishop Shipps did not like the way I preach at funerals. In many years of sharing sermons, he was not unkind even as he was crystal clear. He said I preach funerals with too much said about the person who has died rather than focusing on the purpose of a sermon in a Mass of the Resurrection, which is to point to the light of the glory of God that we find in Jesus. My words to you today are to be a straightforward proclamation of the Gospel with a slight nod to Louise while the emphasis is on the salvation we find in Jesus and the trust we can have that what we now see is not all that there is. The same God who called light out of the darkness, will wipe every tear from our eyes.

But we gather to mourn his dear Louise and I trust he will forgive me this indulgence of seeing the mark of the creator in the soul of an artist. For in our illuminating glimpse of the Good News offered in our Gospel reading, we see how John the Baptist was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. We are to do this as well. And through Louise’ years of faithful service as a wife, mother, and lay minister, we see how she testified to the light. In her steadfast, loving support of Harry as priest and bishop, she testified to the light of Christ as in her loving care for Ruth, Susan, Rebecca, and David, and their children and grandchildren. In tutoring at-risk kids and volunteering at Emmaus House and many thousands of hours of serving others as if serving Jesus, she testified to the light of Christ.

Louise found a wonderful home here in Clemson – and most especially here at Holy Trinity—when she moved here after her husband’s death to be closer to her daughter. Rebecca tells me you opened your arms to her, and she became one of your own. She also grew especially fond of St. Paul’s, your “mother church” in Pendleton, where she often attended Sunday evenings services. 

And even here, she dedicated space in her apartment for a studio as she continued to create as long as she could, icons that begin with finely ground red clay as a basecoat, covered with layer on layer, seven layers deep until heaven touches earth in 23-carat gold, burnished to shine. 

We gather in grief even as we celebrate a life well lived. But we do so knowing that God will wipe every tear from our eyes. For “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

Louise has turned toward the light of the glorious sunrise. In every time of grief and loss and pain, we too can have that inner illumination that comes from faith in Jesus. For we know that the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we too have seen his glory, full of grace and truth. 

We begin in the dark. By the grace of God, we end in the light.

Amen. 

1Book1Diocese for Lent 2024

This Lent, the Diocese of Georgia offers a study using a book The Good Life written by the directors of a more than eight-decade-long study of what makes for a fulfilling life. The Harvard Study of Human Development offers a window into lives of meaning and purpose through the data they have collected. The book also looks at what is gleaned from similar studies around the world. While the book itself does not make connections to our faith in Jesus, the discussion guide does.

As the authors write, “The good life is joyful … and challenging. Full of love, but also pain.” And for those of us who follow Jesus, the good life is one in which loving God and loving your neighbor as yourself is central. We will see how these two greatest commandments connect to the key insights of the study that is the heart of this book. Join Episcopalians around Central and South Georgia for this 1Book1Diocese read this Lent.

The discussion guide is designed for a five-week study beginning in the week after the First Sunday in Lent and ending the week following the Fifth Sunday in Lent.

Click here to download the Discussion Guide

Deaconess Alexander Named Patron Saint of the Diocese

Deaconess Anna E.B. AlexanderThe delegates to the 2023 diocesan convention unanimously voted to name Deaconess Alexander as the Patron Saint of the Diocese. Deaconess Anna Ellison Butler Alexander (1865-1947) has been recognized as a saint by the Diocese of Georgia since 1998 and by the General Convention of The Episcopal Church since 2018, with her feast day celebrated on September 24.

She served the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia despite the persecution and hardships she faced during the Jim Crow era, founding Good Shepherd Episcopal Church in Pennick in 1894 and Good Shepherd Episcopal School in Pennick in 1902. She was set aside by Bishop C. K. Nelson as the first and only Black Deaconess in the history of The Episcopal Church in 1907. She tirelessly and devotedly taught, led services, cared for the poor and elderly, and inspired young people with hope for six decades.

This gives every congregation in the Diocese the express permission to observe the Feast of St. Anna Alexander, with its assigned collect and scripture readings every year on the Sunday closest to September 24 if they choose to do so. The resolution also urged congregations to take up a special offering on that Sunday to benefit the St. Anna Alexander Center for Reconciliation & Healing and the preservation of the historic Good Shepherd Episcopal Schoolhouse.  You can find out more about her life and legacy and the schoolhouse restoration here: GoodShepherdSchoolhouse.org

A Ministering Community

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A Ministering Community

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue gave this sermon at Trinity Episcopal Church in Cochran, Georgia on May 20, 2023.

A Ministering Community
A sermon for the ordination of Shayna Warren Cranford to the Sacred Order of Deacons
2 Corinthians 4:1-6

“It is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” In this verse from our reading from the 2nd Letter to the Christians in Corinth, the moment of creation as God called forth light in the darkness fuses with what the Holy Trinity does in baptism making all things new. If we continued reading the epistle it would make this plain in adding in the next chapter, “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5:17-18).

God is making all things new in Jesus and for those of us who are baptized Christians, we are each called to the ministry of reconciliation until all humanity is reconciled with God and one another. The grace, mercy, and love we have found in Jesus is for everyone. You have never met a single person who was not fearfully and wonderfully made in the image and likeness of God. You have not known anyone who God does not know fully and love completely, even as God wants better for each of us than the mess we can make of our lives. This is great and glorious Good News. And yet, we can still find that our friends and neighbors find this hard to believe as what they have encountered in church is something far less than Amazing Grace.

Given Shayna’s first experiences of church, it is a wonder we have arrived at this day. Growing up in the community of Cary, church is never far away. For Shayna, it was in her backyard at Mount Calvary Church. Shayna wanted to go to church and yet there in Sunday School she met that wonderful and sacred mystery – the Body of Christ, that is the church –embodied in mean little boys jumping off the table and trying to kick her.

The teacher passed out envelopes of all the “Christian” things you had done that week, such as whether you read your Sunday School lesson, brought your Bible to church, and placed money in the envelope. She had nothing to check, but the boys who kicked her had checked every box, and were on the chart showing perfect attendance, and they knew the answers to every question about Bible stories.

I am not bashing the Baptists here. We all know people who show up to church each Sunday with Bible (or Book of Common Prayer) in hand whose lives don’t seem to shine with the light of the glory of God. There is a reason why in a world that so needs to experience the love of God, people around us are sure the one place they won’t find the answers to our broken and hurting world is in a Christian church.

There are more twists and turns to Shayna’s journey to this day but suffice to say they included moments when the church assured her of judgment, without sharing the same assuredness of forgiveness and mercy offered in Jesus. God’s will sounded cruel, heartless…as mean as boys kicking you in Sunday School.

After meeting Dave at college, falling in love and marrying, the two tried to find a church home only to discover that they were miserable sinners as they had their feet metaphorically dangled over the flames of hell. While raising kids, they took a break from church. That is when Shayna’s old softball coach’s pleas to go to church with him broke through. Dale Jones persistent invitation finally reached the point where she could not keep turning him down. Shayna says of coming into this beautiful church, “I remember that first visit so well. Yes, we were a little overwhelmed with keeping up with the prayer book, and the kneeling and standing. But, [she added] we felt the love, the genuine spirit of the people, the closeness of God. I truly felt the spirit of Jesus.”

Within weeks, their kids were acolytes and as I have heard Dave say it on multiple occasions, “We have been Episcopalian our entire life and didn’t know it.”

They had arrived not in any Episcopal Church, but here at Trinity. The recent history of this church offers an important context for today’s ordination. Shayna is being raised up from Trinity to be first a deacon and then a priest in the midst of this same community. That is not the usual path for priests in the Episcopal Church, but it began with a bold experiment by Bishop Henry Louttit, who served as the Bishop of the Diocese of Georgia from 1995-2010. Bishop Louttit was very much involved directly in the process of Liturgical Renewal that gave us the 1979 Book of Common Prayer with its strong emphasis on baptism. His convention addresses and his preaching focused on evangelism and church growth, as he lifted up “the ministry of all the baptized” and “mutual ministry”.

Mutual Ministry was an approach he learned from the Diocese of Northern Michigan. In this way of being church, the congregation is not seen as a community headed by a minister, but a ministering community that encourages all baptized Christians to use their gifts both in the church and in the community. The worship of the church certainly matters, but the main focus of ministry is seen as daily life. Every baptized person is empowered by the Holy Spirit to serve where they are deployed in their family, with their group of friends, and among their co-workers as Christ’s agent in the world.

Bishop Louttit could immediately see how this could benefit Episcopalians in South Georgia. 27 years ago, he asked a delegation to travel to The UP – the Upper Penisula of Michigan, to learn more firsthand. That group of four included two Episcopal priests together with Joy Fisher, then a lay member of the diocesan Standing Committee, and Dr. John Pasto who were both from here at Trinity.

At the next diocesan convention, held in 1997, Bishop Louttit invited Bishop Thomas Ray of Northern Michigan to address the clergy and delegates to share this concept of a community of ministers. In his bishop’s address that year, Bishop Louttit said, “In many, if not all places, we have got to learn that the parish ministry cannot be done by paid staff.

We have to use the gifts of all our members, in both the nurturing and priestly ministry to the members of the congregation, and in the diaconal service of the congregation in Christ’s name to those in desperate need in our counties.”

The next year, he told the convention that Trinity in Cochran was ready to take the next step. In time, Joy Fisher, George Porter, and Vernon Wiggins would discern calls to the priesthood and be formed locally and ordained together. During their time of formation, Bishop Louttit told the 2001 convention, “Trinity Church, Cochran has shown amazing imagination, commitment, and a willingness to risk and try new ways of being the church in order for the church that is so valuable in their own lives to be healthy in their community.”

This church would still later raise up Shayna’s old softball coach, Dale Jones, for ordination during Bishop Scott Benhase’s episcopacy. Shayna arrives here on this day of her ordination to the Sacred Order of Deacons having come to know the Episcopal Church very well, but she has only been a member in a church where every priest she has known was lifted up by Trinity to serve this church. She is called to be a minister in this community of ministers.

What Shayna brings to her ministry is a deep knowledge of Bleckley County and a longing to share the love of God as found in Jesus. In her heart of hearts, she longs to feed the members of this church in word and sacrament so that each one can serve Christ through serving others with the gifts God has given them. She is called to be a priest in this place, rooted in the soil of this corner of the Vineyard that she knows so well. So, why then did I ask you earlier if it is your will that Shayna be ordained as a deacon, and you all said, “It is!” as if you don’t really want her to be ordained a priest, right now?

That is because serving as a deacon is the essential next step in her becoming a priest and we want that next step for her. This time of being a deacon in preparation for the priesthood is no less than six months. My intention, with the endorsement of the Commission on Ministry and the consent of the Standing Committee will be to ordain Shayna a priest in December.

We ordain her a deacon as the Church, in its wisdom, doesn’t trust anyone to be a priest who has not spent time living into serving others, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely. That is why centuries of practice among the many millions of Christians in not just our Anglican Communion, but also the Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Lutheran and other churches ordain a priest in training as a deacon first. We don’t intend this to diminish the Sacred Order of Deacons, but to show how vitally important servant ministry is to every follower of Jesus in any Christian community.

The work of real deacons is the work of a lifetime. Shayna will serve as a deacon during this time of further preparation for the priesthood. This is not just in line with church tradition, but also with the example of our Lord. Our Gospel reading for this day recounts a dispute arising among Jesus’ disciples as to which of them was to be regarded as the greatest. Jesus reminded them that they are not to look to the example of the world. He said, “Rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves.” Then he brought this home in saying, “I am among you as one who serves.”

Yet here at Trinity with its history of Mutual Ministry, we all know in our bones that Shayna is not to serve others on behalf of or instead of us. Trinity is a ministering community encouraging all baptized Christians to use their gifts both here in the church and as importantly in the community. Every one of us is to care for all in need and that need is vast. Shayna has a particular role, but everyone shares the call to the ministry of reconciliation.

There are still kids growing up right here on the buckle of the Bible Belt hearing plenty of judgment who need to know that God knows them fully and loves them completely. There are plenty of adults beat up by the fear of God who need to rediscover the grace of God. For God is still bringing forth light in the darkness and calling us to speak love to hate. “All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation.” When the baptized each make this ministry their own, nothing can stop God’s love.

Amen.

From the Cradle to the Grave and Beyond

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The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue gave this sermon at Calvary Episcopal Church in Americus, Georgia on January 9, 2023.

From the cradle to the grave and beyond

A sermon for the funeral of the Rev. John Lane
Revelation 21:2-7 and John 14:1-6

We gather as a people who mourn, in the confidence that our friend and brother, Deacon Johnny Lane, is with Jesus.

Our reading from the Book of Revelation tells of a coming time when God “will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.”

We are not to that time of the Kingdom of God. Now we still mourn. It hurts so bad to get news of a cancer diagnosis and then so quickly, John is taken from us. But Deacon John was not taken from Jesus. He has passed through death to the life eternal, where he is with his savior. In his dying days, his faith did not dim. We can be strengthened by John’s faith.

This was faith he learned in the cradle. Born at home, in the little Central Florida settlement of Clay Sink, the entire population were his family by blood and marriage. He was at birth added to the cradle roll of Clay Sink Baptist Church. While his family would move around the Lakeland area, church was a constant for his parents, for Johnny, and his four brothers and three sisters. He was a steady presence in Sunday School, sang in the youth choir, and took part in all the activities for youth. He made his public confession of faith at the church in Kathleen, Florida, where four generations of his family are buried.

His family was oriented to their community and their country as well. During the Second World, his parents placed three blue stars in the front window, giving thanks when all returned home with the blue star being replaced with a gold one.

This idea of service to a great good was significant for John, who saw in the parable where Jesus took a coin in the Temple and told those questioning him about whether they had to pay taxes something I had not seen before. Jesus said render to Caesar what is Caesar’s and what unto God what is God’s. John saw in this, his savior teaching citizenship. We are to be good citizen of the Kingdom of God and a good citizen of this world in which we live.

Life changed when his father died in 1948. John was the only one still at home. His mother went to work and, on graduating from high school, John joined the Navy. He chased the American Dream and after four years in the Navy, he married, earned an Electrical Engineering degree from the University of Florida and landed a job with Western Electric. To know and love John Lane is to appreciate his engineering brain. Very loving and caring, he could seem stoic when his brain that was so adept at problem-solving would have him working to solve a problem in logical steps. But then there is also his quick wit and his big smile.

Work went well. He moved around a bit, serving the Navy again, now as a contractor. During this time, he and his wife adopted Ricky and a few years later, Tricia. They joined a Baptist Church, but travel for work prevented him from connecting there. In time, his first marriage came apart at the seams and ended in divorce. God does not create the tragedies in our lives, but God does use what happens in our life to enter in. God works all things together for the good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose. God used the divorce to bring John closer.

In time, he met Beth. As they decided to marry, John said they more importantly committed to each other that Christ and the Church were going to become permanent members of their life together. They have not missed many services in the 45 years since that decision. With five children in their blended family and grandchildren on their way, life was good.

John had been a faithful Baptist. He became an Episcopalian the old fashioned way, just like I did. He married one. John said that he told Beth, “It doesn’t matter to me where we go to church as long as we go.” Beth told him, “It does matter to me. I’m a cradle Episcopalian. We will go to the Episcopal Church.” We are all most appreciative Beth!

They found their church home right here at Calvary where Bishop Paul Reeves confirmed John in 1980. Beth sang in the choir, served on the Altar Guild, and was active in the Episcopal Church Women. John became a lay reader and a lay eucharistic minister. Never having lost his community-oriented upbringing, John also worked in the food pantry and with the soup kitchen. He said he worked with the children from the barely potty trained to preschool. The next thing you know, his heart for servant ministry had John taking the Eucharist to shut-ins and helping to organize a chaplaincy program at Sumter Regional Hospital. Feeling called to the ministry of a deacon, he entered discernment and then formation and was ordained here on November 11, 1990.

Across the next decades of servant ministry, John continued to faithfully take the church out into the world and to bring the needs he saw in the communities he served to the attention of the church. He served here at Calvary and then for a year at St.  Stephens in Leesburg. Next, he went to St. John and St. Mark in Albany, where worked in the food pantry, taught Sunday School, and worked with the acolytes.

He went back to St. Stephens to assist Father Bill Stewart as he worked on the steps to faithfully close that church, before going to Christ Church in Cordele. There he served as the Deacon in Charge of Worship on the Water, their summer outreach ministry. I loved serving with John on the resort dock on Lake Blackshear. He was always so passionate about that ministry and so grateful for assistance. To speak of John’s ministry is to also speak of how John and Beth have been a team. He was living his best life when he and Beth were helping other to get set up for Worship on the Water. In a Hawaiian shirt clergy shirt greeting the congregation arriving by boat.

John reflected in 2010 on what was then more than 30 years of ministry, writing that his ministry reminded him of the scene with Jesus on the beach with Peter. This was after Peter’s denied he even knew Jesus. On the other side of the cross and the resurrection, Jesus asks him three times, “Do you love me.” Three times, Peter says “Yes Lord, I love you.” Each time, Jesus told Peter, “Then feed my sheep.” John looking back on years of serving the need through organizing and managing food pantries and soup kitchens. Years of working on providing low-cost housing. Years of being a servant to those who would otherwise, be lost and left out. In all these ways, Deacon John faithfully fed the sheep that the Holy Spirit sent his way.

In our Gospel reading we hear Jesus telling his first followers, “Do not let your hearts be trouble.” He goes on to say, “I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.”

John has been with Jesus from the cradle to the grave and now is with Jesus beyond this life, into the life eternal. We mourn, because we have lost him, but we mourn as those with the same sure and certain hope that he held on to even in his last days. We pray for Beth, his beloved wife and partner in life and ministry; and we pray for his children, Steve, Rebecca, David, and Tricia; and we pray for all of us who mourn.

As we mourn John, we can honor him in a way befitting a deacon. When you miss him, pick up some food to drop by a food pantry or volunteer to serve in a soup kitchen. Not only will these actions honor Deacon John Lane, these steps to assist those in need will continue his servant ministry as you feed the sheep as Jesus taught us to do.

Amen.

Elegant. Exquisite. Refined. Rare. – A sermon for Virginia Maxwell’s funeral

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue preached this sermon at Christ Church in Savannah, Georgia on December 16, 2022.

Elegant. Exquisite. Refined. Rare.
A sermon for Virginia Maxwell’s Funeral
Wisdom 3:1-5,9; Psalm 139:1-11; Romans 8:14-39; and John 10:11-16

Elegant. Exquisite. Refined. Rare.

If you did not know Virginia Maxwell and you heard those of us who knew her and love her talking, it would be easy to see the surface of the words and miss the fullness of their meaning. Of course, no one could describe Virginia without saying elegant or gracious. If someone tried, we would know they had never met her. After all, George, her husband of 62 years loved to say, “Ginny has more grace in her little finger than I have in my whole body.” And we knew he didn’t have that much grace either.

Yet this fails to capture the liveliness of a woman of great depth. With a playful spirit and a great sense of humor, you just never knew what she was going to say. Of George’s call to ministry coming after he had settled well into the family’s furniture business, she said, “We were convinced it was a call from God, because we would have never thought of it.”

She and George were a dynamic duo. The Reverend Cynthia Taylor recalled the lasting impact the Maxwells made on her parents and her family when they arrived at Holy Comforter in Sumter, South Carolina, in the mid-1960s. The low church parish did not know what to do with a Father Maxwell, much less a priest who would show up for a New Year’s Eve Party in a black clergy suit acting as if he did not have a party hat perched on his head. Beside him, Ginny dazzled in the perfect cocktail dress for the occasion. During that time, the Maxwells made a principled, Gospel-based stand, for integration as they took the implications of their faith seriously. Reflecting on the difference they made in her parent’s lives, Cynthia said of the Maxwells, that they paid attention to their lives and the lives of others. They gave you permission to look at your life, which tended to lead to people changing for the better.

Ordination gives one an entrée into someone’s life in important moments. I sat with Virginia after Father Maxwell’s fall, and we talked a long while as it seemed he was leaving the hospital for his heavenly home rather than returning to their house on Calhoun Square. Being with her then revealed to me what y’all know so well, Virginia had a living faith in a risen Lord.

Our reading from Wisdom tells us that, “the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God…In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died…but they are at peace.” Ginny knew that her beloved husband belonged to God and whether he lived or he died, he would be with Jesus.

As Paul wrote to the church in Rome, “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?”

Paul knew both God’s love and persecution. We know of five occasions when Paul was given 39 lashes with a whip, which was the harshest sentence minus one. Three times Paul was beaten with rods. He was stoned once and shipwrecked three times in his travels. And out of experiencing God’s love in the midst of this, the Apostle wrote that none of these things could separate us from the love of Christ.

“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Virginia could sit by the beside of her husband of 62 years, not with vague wishful thinking, but with a sure and certain hope founded on a lifetime of prayer, reading scripture, and putting her faith into action. Experience taught her that the Gospel is true—death is real and so is resurrection. For followers of Jesus live not as people without hope, but as those who have in this life glimpsed God’s faithfulness so many times, we know we can trust no matter the circumstances.

Virginia enjoyed the support of a small prayer group that met faithfully for more than 40 years, usually in the home of Bill and Liz Sprague. Neither Ginny nor Liz were from Savannah and so they shared that perspective. The group would sit in four chairs facing one another, drink coffee, talk about what was going on in their lives, often with their children. And Mrs. Sprague told me something I will share just with you, as long as you promise not to tell anyone. They would also share a little gossip cloaked in concern and prayer.

Perhaps no small prayer group has faced division like this one as they found themselves on opposite sides of a fault line that would divide this church. Even as Ginny and Liz’ husbands held to positions that would be adjudicated by the Georgia Supreme Court, the women gathered still. What held them together, their love for each other and faith in Jesus, was stronger than what might have separated them.

And what did Liz see in a friend with whom she shared everything in difficult times? She said Virginia was unselfish. She would do anything she could for you to a greater degree than most of us. And importantly, Virginia made everything more fun.

But her life was not without trials. Virginia’s last years were difficult as they are for any of us whose memories fade. Even when you can meet your beloved daughter as if for the first time, not one of us can be lost as our whole loves are held in the heart of the God who made us and knows us so well. As the Psalmist writes,

LORD, you have searched me out and known me;
you know my sitting down and my rising up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.

You trace my journeys and my resting-places
and are acquainted with all my ways.

Indeed, there is not a word on my lips,
but you, O LORD, know it altogether (Psalm 139:1-3)

Not all is lost. It can’t be as our whole lives live in the memories of God. I join the Apostle Paul in the conviction “that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

This faith in the resurrection is not just about some glad morning when this life is o’er when we fly away to heaven. Not being separated from the love of God will be evident then. The bedrock trust that Jesus is with us always matters most in the here and now when we face adversity. Christians do not have a Get-out-of-trouble-free card. We are as likely to end up facing tragedy as much as anyone else. What we have is a living faith in a risen Lord. We have the knowledge of who we are because we have come to know whose we are. And knowing that, we know we can never be lost.

George said his Mom became more fully herself in some ways in recent years as with the loss of a filter, she was much funnier more often, as the humor she always saw, but sometimes held back, came flooding out. As so much was lost, Virginia remained.

Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep.”

“I know my own.” Jesus knew Ginny well. She who could see the good in everybody was seeing Jesus in those around her, just as we all saw Jesus in her.

“And my own know me.” Ginny knew Jesus. Her active faith had her pursuing her savior her whole life not just intellectually, but also with her heart in serving him through caring for others. She was, of course, not perfect, but she was willing to be perfected by Christ as she did her best to put her beliefs into practice, usually behind the scenes, not taking a lead role, but making every group she was a part of more effective.

In all this, she had a mature understanding of God through reflecting on how the Holy Spirit had been present with her and those around her. And even as her memories faded, her daughter Anne said, of course she still knew the Good Shepherd who was ever with her.

Virginia Maxwell was and remains Christ’s own, a sheep of his own fold, a lamb of his own flock, a sinner of his own redeeming. And Jesus has received her into the arms of his mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light. We know this as we saw in her life, a trust in Jesus that in its simplicity and depth was and ever shall be a faith that is:

Elegant. Exquisite. Refined. Rare.

Amen.

Closing Presentation – Convention 2022

The following was given as a closing presentation to the 201st Convention of the Diocese of Georgia by Bishop Frank Logue.

Let Your Light Shine
Matthew 5:14-16

The longest serving Secretary of Convention for the Diocese of Georgia, was the Reverend Doctor James Bolan Lawrence, who served several decades in leading these meetings. When he arrived at Calvary Church in Americus in 1905, they didn’t know what to do with him. He was a 27-year old priest and he was different, having earned a Masters in Classics at the University of Georgia before going to seminary, he fluent in Greek, Hebrew, and Latin. He was known for his love of “good food, good drink, good tobacco, good music, good clothes.” He once created a scandal by preaching a sermon about how good it was to play golf on Sunday. 

In the history of Calvary Church in Americus, they talked about how his sermons were not that inspiring, they were too erudite, technical. But he served there for 47 years as a pastor to that community. When he died, his funeral was at Calvary and he was to be buried 13 miles away beside the log cabin church he had built in Andersonville. Many people walked the route with the procession itself stretching out for a mile. He was such a pastor that they saw the light of Christ shining through him. 

The people in southwest Georgia loved Brother Jimmy enough to forget his sermons while recalling his example of “kindness, selflessness and utter goodness.”

The previous year, when he retired, Bishop Barnwell told the diocesan convention, “During these years Dr. Lawrence has shed the light of his life not only in Americus, but also in a half dozen or more mission stations scattered over a vast area in western and south-western Georgia.” He founded churches in Blakely, Cordele, Dawson, Moultrie, Benevolence, and Pennington, wherever he could ride a train to during the week and gather a congregation and preach and pray. When there were enough of them, he founded a church.

He shed the light of his life, the Bishop said, which caused me to look at the Gospel anew. Jesus put it this way, “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

I am struck by Jesus saying, “Let your light shine.” This is about the gifts God has given you, that make you unique in what you have to offer to the Body of Christ. 

While I have held up the very unique priest who his neighbors called, Brother Jimmy, he was not alone. Anson Greene Phelps Dodge Jr. accomplished much on the Georgia coast, dying before he turned 40. The Rev. Paul Hoornstra more recently planted churches on the islands at St. Francis of the Islands and St. Peter’s on Skidaway.

Then there is our beloved Saint of Georgia, Deaconess Anna Alexander, who accomplished so much with so little, especially little help from her diocese. And we see others who also served their African American communities with similar devotion, like her sisters Mary and Dora who started the school at St. Cyprian’s in Darien. Then there was Father Perry who led the school at Good Shepherd in Thomasville for 32 years. And from 1884 to 1928, St. Athanasius’ in Brunswick ran a very impressive secondary school with an Industrial Arts curriculum. I could go on to tell of generations of black Episcopalians who have been and are today leaders in this Diocese.

Rita Griffeth, a Glynn County native who led summer camps in this Diocese for 25 years at Camp Reese on St. Simons Island. Every year of 1925 to 1950, she drove the backroads of central and south Georgia to personally find counselors and campers and then tirelessly run the program. It is impossible for those of us who know camp in more recent decades to fail to compare her to Pam Guice, who also provided such dedicated service.

When I said yesterday that we find evidence of the Diocese of Georgia having creativity and resourcefulness deep in its DNA, these are the people I am talking about who decade after decade served the towns we now serve. My list could go on and on and would include names of people in this room. I find followers of Jesus meeting the challenge of their times led by the Holy Spirit. That same spirit abides in this Diocese.

My parting offering to you is a list of ideas and tools that are just a starter to get you thinking. We will email out the PDF files and the web page version is linked at the diocesan website now. There are ways to deepen faith, and ideas for engaging with your community, alongside new ways and time-tested old ways to engage with stewardship.

As I said yesterday, these ideas are not an invitation to work harder and do more. Some of the resources will assist you in what you are already doing, like having free studies to choose from as an offering on a Wednesday evening. For any new initiative, you will have to find something else you have been doing that it is time to stop. Some really good ideas from the past need a plaque and a sheet cake. Celebrate what was accomplished as you discontinue an effort that bore good fruit for a season.

Assess what you are doing now as a congregation. Any area that takes more energy than it seems to offer parishioners or the community in return, is probably ready to give thanks for and end. Anything that lacks leadership and volunteers, that could be a sign to let up for a season. There could also be great ideas from your past, that are time for a return. What we need now as a church can very well be what worked well before. None of this is about the institution of the church per se. I know I have a job that would make it seem otherwise, but the institution of the church is not worth getting up for in the morning unless it is serving the Gospel of Jesus Christ and making a difference in the lives of the people in the community. If the church is doing that then it is worthwhile. To the degree the institution of the church gets in the way of that mission, we have to acknowledge that it is getting in the way of our reason for being. Because there is a lost and hurting world that does not know that they were fearfully and wonderfully by the creator of the cosmos. There are people made in the image and likeness of God who have seen themselves in the eyes of others. Showing the love of God, however we do it, is something that matters so much. 

My deepest conviction as we embark on a time of holy experimentation, is that the Holy Spirit will use our faithfulness. We don’t have to let the potential for the perfect prevent us from doing something good. I learned in working with Kairos Prison Ministry that being merely flexible is still far too rigid. Flexible is, here I stand. I can bend a little. They said that in the prison, that is not enough. We can be working as the whole prison goes into lock down and we are in the room longer, or it can go into lockdown overnight and we can’t get back in the next morning. We want to be fluid like water going down a mountain toward a river and the sea. The water knows its purpose and never loses track of the ultimate goal. The water may have to take a different path to get to the river and the sea, but it will accomplish its purpose. 

In this way, we need to be fluid about methods, but we know that we are about is people coming into a relationship with Jesus Christ that transforms their lives as they see that God loves them, wants better for them than where they are now. This is the offering of healing, repentance, and new life. That is the goal, which is why we can be fluid in how we go about it.

The first Anglicans arrived as the colony of Georgia’s founders in 1733. While so much has changed, that core purpose has remained the same as they wanted to offer a haven for those in need of a fresh start. Sharing the Good News of Jesus is worth getting up for in the morning and is worth spending your days, and giving your life to accomplish. As we commit together to looking for new ways to share our ancient faith, we do not do so alone, the true missionary is God, the real work is being done by Jesus. This is the work of the Spirit. We are given the grace to be on the team.

Amen.

God meets us in reality – Convention sermon 2022

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue gave this sermon for the Convention Eucharist for the 201st Convention of the Diocese of Georgia at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Savannah, Georgia, on November 11, 2022.

 

God meets us in reality
Isaiah 58: 6-12 and Matthew 25: 31-40

God meets us in reality.
God is not in my idealized past.
God is not in my hoped for future.

The God who made us, loves us, and wants better for us is with us now and in every moment of our very real, sometimes glorious, sometimes messy, lives.

God becoming human in Jesus was all about the Second Person of the Holy Trinity entering into creation, weaving back the tattered tapestry of our world from the inside.

My Mom helped me to see this insight–God is real and deals with our actual lives, not our fantasies. 

She has often repeated that phrase: God meets us in reality.
This year, I have heard my mother’s sage counsel differently.

I had a poignant epiphany in September, when I was speaking with Diocesan Council at Trinity Church in Statesboro. Having a light bulb going off over my head as I am in the midst of talking to a group happens to me with some regularity. As an extrovert, I benefit from processing my thoughts externally. I sometimes don’t know what I think, what my deepest and best thoughts are, until I talk a matter through. 

I was taking our Council through the process by which Canon Loren Lasch and I separately had arrived at the same conclusion about this convention. We realized that it would be most important to share a clear-eyed view of where the congregations of the Diocese of Georgia are now, after having experienced great shifts during a global pandemic. 

In Canon Lasch’s opening presentation and in my Bishop’s Address we have done just that in a way that I trust is hopeful. We have seen the data on our attendance and finances as well as the signs of how God is present with us in the midst of what we face today in our corner of the vineyard, which is the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia. That morning in Statesboro as I told the members of Council about my Mom’s favored phrase, God meets us in reality, the word reality was a hard one to say. 

Sixteen months ago, my mother called me to share a frightening incident. She had been sitting at a red light, waiting for the traffic on the state route to go by and the light to turn green. She knew that she was driving to her daughter’s house. That much she remembered. But Mom told me that she realized that she had not the slightest idea which direction to go to get there. My sister, Leigh, has been living in the same home near Arnoldsville, Georgia for 25 years. My Mom, Julia, had been, at that time, living in the same house in Winterville for nearly 20 years. Mom had made that 11.4-mile drive countless times, always making the left hand turn onto US 78. That day, she was stuck. She knew where she wanted to go and yet had no idea what to do next. Soon after, her doctor diagnosed my mother with dementia.

I can’t say strongly enough that she was brave in facing that new reality. My Mom was one of eight children. She had cared for one of her sisters, Laura Frances, as the relentless progression of Alzheimer’s had her sundowning each afternoon. My aunt would be looking for her deceased husband, Joe, and their children, who were by then living in three different states. Mom lovingly looked after her sister until care at home was no longer an option. She had witnessed how far from reality dementia can take someone. 

All of this came to me at once as I told the Council that God meets us in reality. What does it mean, I wondered, when our view of what is real suffers distortion. And, as sometimes happens, the next step opened for me. Just as clearly as I could see my mother learning of her dementia diagnosis, I recalled the book that the Lasches gave to me. The Rev. Ian Lasch had been reading the work of John Swinton, a Practical Theologian in Aberdeen, Scotland. He and Loren gave me Swinton’s book Dementia: Living in the Memories of God. So as I spoke, I took that next step, following where I felt the Holy Spirit leading me and I told the members of Diocesan Council of it being difficult to talk of my Mom saying God is with us in reality now that she is less connected to what is real. I let them know of the book in which Swinton explores: 

Who am I when I’ve forgotten who I am? 

What does it mean to love God and be loved by God when I have forgotten who God is?

His exploration goes far from where my mother is now or may ever be with dementia. Swinton takes the reader to the farthest borders of where the various forms of what we call dementia can take a person. This work of practical theology is so important as it works from what we know of God to puzzle through the implications of our beliefs. If we are each made in the image and likeness of God, what does the loss of memory do to the imago dei, that image of God, imprinted on each person? We are not confined by what we can remember for we are always remembered by God. Even if someone’s cognition is such that they forget God, God never forgets that person. This is the deepest reality even in the furthest reaches of varied conditions we call dementia.

Since that phone call when she could not remember which way to turn, a lot has happened with my Mom. We worked through a variety of possibilities with her and after she visited for a few weeks last December, she decided to move into the apartments with her sister Emily. She pared down her possessions, we sold her house and moved her to Chattanooga. With her sister nearby and the care of the staff at her new home, she has remained as independent as possible. Between medication and a stable routine, my Mom is in a great environment. But it isn’t home. Even though I have been with her there as often as possible and my siblings have visited, the apartment may never feel like home to her. We all do what we can. Her two great grandchildren stayed with her for some days. We will be with her for her birthday later this month. The loss of home remains. Then there is the more difficult reality. Sometimes, when we talk, she does not remember any of us ever being with her in Tennessee. 

Swinton’s book, I told the Council, helped me to see the value in spending time with my Mom even, or especially, when she might not recall it later. A visit that makes the hours spent with her better matters so much, whether she remembers it or not. And that time spent with her is good for me, even if she forgets the visit.

It’s not about trying to get my mom to the reality she used to be in, or the exact way our relationship used to be. Going back to the past like that simply cannot happen. What we’re living into now is finding new ways of expressing the love and care we’ve always had for each other, that’s still fully present even though it’s different than it’s been before. I can’t let the loss of abilities prevent me from appreciating my mother as she is now.

The insight that we need to appreciate what we have is, of course, relevant to any situation we face. For people who feel like they have everything under control and life is perfect, the day will come when chaos breaks into that careful order. For followers of Jesus, when our carefully maintained façade of perfection crumbles, we know that our savior remains with us, even in the midst of the chaos. When anxiety overwhelms us, when we face problems with no clear answer, Jesus will never leave us or forsake us.

In our reading from Isaiah, the Children of Israel were living in exile in Babylon trying to hold the faith passed down in families through generations. The prophets had warned that Israelites would not be exempt from the judgment of God if they failed to be faithful. The people did not heed the prophets. Exile came in a traumatic way to Ancient Israel twice, first when the Assyrian Empire took over the northern kingdom of Israel, the land of ten of the twelve tribes of Israel, and again when the Babylonians captured the two tribes of Judah, the southern kingdom of Israel. When our reading takes place, the people were remembering God’s teaching while exiled in an enemy land. The people in exile would have been tempted to think “we can’t find God until we get back to where we were, and how we were.” But they needed to find God anew in exile. 

The exile is a central story of the Hebrew Bible. The Children of Israel looked back to the Exodus, when their ancestors were brought out of captivity in Egypt to be returned to the Promised Land. Now in Babylon, they mourned the loss of Zion and longed to be restored once more as God’s people living in the land of Israel. 

Our reading from Isaiah was a word from God to remind them that they were always God’s people, no matter where they lived. Then they could trust that God would be faithful, without yet knowing whether they would ever return to their homeland. 

God instructed Israel to put their faith into practice if they wanted to find light anew in the darkness all around them. In the words of our reading:

If you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.

The exiles learned once more to faithfully follow the God who made them, loved them, and wanted better for them. They studied scripture and found their faith was born anew as they learned not to long for the past, but to serve God in the here and now. 

The lesson to the exiles holds just as true for us. For the light of Christ to shine brightly in our lives and in the midst of our congregations, we know the way–study the scripture together, say our prayers, gather regularly for worship, and serve our communities as if we are serving Jesus himself. As we worship and serve, we are more likely to be attuned to how God is already present among us.

When we put our faith into practice, we remember who we are, which is to know whose we are. For those with dementia, as long as someone remembers them, they are not lost. The Gospel tells us that even if everyone we know were to forget us, each of us lives in the memory of God. Even in exile, we can still serve God in the knowledge that we are never God-forsaken. 

The God who will never forget us is with us now. This is true with my Mom’s journey. And as I saw during the Council meeting in Statesboro, it is true for where we are as a diocese. We don’t have to go back to our churches as they were in 2019 to find Jesus present with us, or to 2010 or to 2000 or any other magic date. When we get real with ourselves, we will see how the Holy Spirit is already in our midst, leading and guiding us, not back to a longed for past or even ahead of us in a hoped for future. 

The overwhelmingly Good News is that the God who made us, loves us, and wants better for us is with us now and in every moment of our very real, sometimes glorious, sometimes messy, lives.

God meets us in reality. 

Amen.



Bishop’s Address – Convention 2022

November 11, 2022 – Georgia Southern University’s Armstrong Center, Savannah

Beloved in Christ,

This is my third Convention Address as your bishop. A Bishop’s Address, by the canons of our church, is to share the work undertaken since our last convention, give the state of the diocese, and name plans for the coming year. While this year was quite unusual with Episcopal Church and Anglican Communion gatherings, a familiar pattern to my work is in place here at home. 

Victoria and I have found a rhythm to our lives with each week focused around a journey. This past Saturday, we traveled the 229 miles to Good Shepherd in Thomasville. The drive is a favorite, hitting Georgia 122 just west of Waycross with more than 100 miles of two-lane blacktop cutting through a beautiful section of south Georgia all the way into Thomasville. I met with the vestry for a conversation about their future and then we celebrated the Holy Eucharist together in that beautiful church and enjoyed hanging out with folks at the reception. On Sunday morning, Victoria and I were at St. Margaret of Scotland in Moultrie for the Holy Eucharist and a fun time of fellowship over food. 

Since we last met in convention, I have made visitations to 52 congregations and also made my visitation to Episcopal Day School for a total of 53 of the 71 visitations that make up a full cycle of visits for the Diocese of Georgia. In order to minimize multiple visits to a church over the course of one year, we have been counting celebrations of new ministry and ordinations as a visit. In this way, I am currently getting everywhere at least once every 18 months. I often hear that congregations would like to see me and Victoria more often, and we share that desire. Victoria and I love worshiping with you and spending time together. We are open to more non-Sunday visits if congregations would like to find a way to see us a bit sooner, but we are grateful that our current pattern allowed us to get to 53 visits in a year when the General Convention and the Lambeth Conference had us outside of the Diocese more than usual. 

Canon Loren Lasch already told the stark reality of the drop in attendance and the shortage of priests in the Episcopal Church. Canon Katie Easterlin and our Treasurer Beth Robinson will offer more of the current financial picture of the diocese. In this address, I want to turn to the plans for the coming year, because a reasonable question after the reality check in the opening presentation is to look at me and ask, “Well bishop, what are we going to do about this?” 

I will lay out some steps we are taking, but to understand why these steps now, I have to look backward. Canon Lasch rightly directed us to the present in her opening presentation. We also know that we need to learn lessons from the past. In this year as we lead up to the Bicentennial of the founding of the Diocese of Georgia, we are sharing stories from our history in From the Field. In our past we see mirrored some common struggles which remain today, as we seek to let the light of Christ shine through us.

In 1892, Bishop Cleland Nelson, elected well into a long economic depression, charted a bold course saying,  “The proper attitude of the Church in Georgia is best described by the word aggressive.” He named areas which needed “to be attacked.” From 1893–1906, the diocese, which then encompassed the entire state of Georgia, funded missionaries as we expanded from 88 missions to 108 in 13 years, going from 6,292 communicants to 9,229 and building sixty-two new church buildings.

In 1920, as we were still reeling from the First World War and the Spanish Flu pandemic, the Rt. Rev. Frederick Reese, was pushing forward mission work within the Diocese saying, “Brethren, we have pulled up a peg or two; we have got a new conception of our duty and our ability, we have made a good start. Let us not drop back, go to sleep again or stop to congratulate ourselves. There is much to do yet. It would be fatal to feel that we had completed the job. Everybody’s mind must be set with a forward look. We cannot afford to grow weary and rest.”

I could share other times with different struggles met by new strategies. However, we are not serving in the same context as our predecessors. In addition to the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic, which comes on the heels of more than a decade of churchwide decline, we face the increasing secularization and polarization endemic in our world today. 

In our Diocese, we have cities that have more Episcopal Churches than they can seem to support alongside county seat towns that are doing well to continue their witness to the Gospel in the midst of a dwindling population. This is why it is helpful to see how each generation has responded to the challenges of their times, letting their light shine in their communities. 

Throughout our history, we find evidence of the Diocese of Georgia having creativity and resourcefulness deep in its DNA. More importantly when I study writings from my predecessors, I see how our primary response has been to be prayerful as we seek to remain faithful to where God is leading us. This is still our call.

Moving forward in the present reality there will be new ways of being church and connecting with our communities that will be fruitful, and there are certainly some old ways we would benefit from turning back toward. While there is no silver bullet, one-size fits all way to be the faithful church in this moment, we can respond to challenges knowing that whatever we face, we do so guided by the Holy Spirit. Rather than being led by the latest business practice the church wants to baptize, we can see the benefit of energy and leadership coming from the ground up to support creative endeavors that are life giving to each unique community.

The Rev. Melanie Lemburg recommended a book that has been helpful to me, How to Lead When You Don’t Know Where You’re Going. The challenge for me is that the author, Susan Beaumont, convinced me of what I already suspected: as bishop, I have a different role in faithful experiments. As much as I love being creative, I am not the Chief Entrepreneurial Officer for the Diocese or any other kind of CEO. I am the Chief Pastor. My day-to-day life and ministry are diocesan, which is often a helpful perspective. Yet, removed from serving a particular parish in a certain city, I don’t need to be the one making every local decision. We all know that what is perfect for Augusta, may not be right for Albany, and is less likely to be what is needed in Cochran, and what is faithful for a congregation with 200 people attending each Sunday is not possible for most of our congregations. Beyond this, if the bishop initiates an idea, that is different in kind in an Episcopal Church as it could be seen as holding more weight than I intend. 

I am working to further foster our existing diocesan culture of sharing ideas among congregations. The lay leaders and clergy can decide what is right for their congregation to consider. One important means of learning from others in this Diocese is Leading with Grace. This is the retooled version of Bishop Scott Benhase’s signature program, the Church Development Institute. This training has not been simply renamed but reconfigured based on the experiences of leaders and past participants. Our Director of Leadership Ministries, Carey Wooten, will share more about this later today.

Canon Joshua Varner will talk tomorrow about the lay ministers’ conference, which is another way we have been sharing best practices we are discovering. We brought this conference back this fall after not holding one for 12 years and plan for it to be held annually.

In meeting with our peers, Canon Lasch and I were drawn to two new initiatives paid for largely by grants from Trinity Episcopal Church on Wall Street. They have focused their funding with grants targeted at congregations with 70 or fewer people in worship on Sunday.

The first, LeadersCARE, is a program that has us learning alongside the Dioceses of Atlanta, West Tennessee, and East Tennessee. This is a training for lay people in just the sort of faithful experimentation I am pointing toward, as it offers not a single solution, but a prayerful approach to discern what might be right for your congregation. Canon Lasch, Carey Wooten, and Shayna Cranford, a postulant for the priesthood from Trinity, Cochran, joined leaders from the three other dioceses for a multi-day meeting in Atlanta recently. Based on what they learned, the three began working on a new vestry retreat for this February. Vestries of congregations not regularly served by a priest will be invited to take part in this retreat, shaped by the principles of LeadersCARE. No vestry has to take part, of course, but this will offer a time to be at Honey Creek to worship together, to learn alongside other vestries, and to have time for each vestry to work on its own, in planning the coming year and beyond. We are also working on a way to share what we’ve learned from LeadersCARE with the wider Diocese during Lent even as we plan to bring the formation opportunity to a larger group at Honey Creek later next year so more lay leaders can get training first hand. 

We are also working with our friends in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America’s Southeastern Synod on a ten-month long expert-led, peer-enhanced learning cohort called the Strategic Imagination Sandbox. This will have a group of our priests learning alongside peers who are Lutheran pastors. The details of this have just been solidified. Canon Lasch and I will be contacting priests for the pilot cohort in the coming weeks.

And yes, I get it. Saying there is no one-size-fits-all solution and then talking about LeadersCARE and a Strategic Imagination Sandbox sounds exactly like chasing the shiny new thing. The goal of this approach is to benefit from learning alongside other Episcopal dioceses and our Lutherans colleagues. These are gifted leaders who are working in very similar circumstances. A process for learning together is much more adaptable than any plan created for another congregation in a different setting. We selected these initiatives precisely because of this: they do not offer a set plan, but a process of discovery that will lead to varied faithful responses in differing contexts. This path is about opening ourselves up to where the Holy Spirit is leading us. 

Beyond these initiatives, we are testing new ways of forming licensed lay leaders. We currently have two people in the lay preacher training offered online by Bexley-Seabury Seminary. At the same time, we are keeping in touch with the Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast as they work with the Episcopal Preaching Foundation on another way of forming lay preachers. We will see if that experience could bear fruit in our diocese as well, while they learn from what we are trying out here. We will similarly test ways to form licensed lay worship leaders, building up the capacity of those who lead Morning Prayer when a priest is not available on a Sunday. 

I am also working with bishops from other dioceses around the country and the world on sharing what we are trying as we learn together, rather than going it alone. The relationships I continue to form among colleagues in the House of Bishops and others that began at the Lambeth Conference are also bearing fruit in our corner of the vineyard.

In a very different way, I see how the work of RacialJusticeGA is also part of our faithful response to our times. After lunch, we will hear how their interracial fellowship pilot program is already having an impact on those who have taken part. In addition to this, the pilgrimage they have put together for the weekend of the Feast Day of Saint Anna Alexander has been successfully tested for two years. They will open the pilgrimage up to others next fall. I have added this important new event to my calendar to take part as a pilgrim. There is much in their work that offers us critical ways we need to learn and grow.

Tomorrow, I will share ideas and resources from around the Diocese of Georgia as I see this season as one of possibility, rather than decline. I will say more about this then, but know that the answer is not simply to work harder and do more. Looking at new possibilities will also mean discerning what we need to stop doing, in order to let new possibilities flourish. The perfect idea that was just right for a congregation in the 1970s, 1990s or even 2019, may have seen its season. We do not need to do more and more. God has already done everything that needs to be done in Jesus. We are not looking for a program to save us. Jesus already did that on a Friday more than 2,000 years ago. 

What I am hoping for in this season is to cross-pollinate simple ideas that bring Christ’s light into our midst and I want you to bring your creativity to the party. The Diocese will benefit as others come to know what is bringing your congregation life and giving your parishioners and community hope.

This is an intentionally messier strategy than a single plan for everyone. It needs to be so. As we seek to honor the unique needs and gifts of each of our churches, I trust that we will see what Jesus is up to in our communities. Because God is already active. 

As your bishop, I have come to see how dispersed experimentation, learning, and decision making fits us so well, as the Episcopal Church is less hierarchical and more democratic than it first appears. For the oversight that a bishop in the Episcopal Church is charged with is shared oversight. I don’t serve alone. I am blessed to work with a dedicated staff, the deans and archdeacon, the Standing Committee, Diocesan Council, and the other commissions and committees of the diocese, as well as the wardens and vestries of each congregation, and all of the deacons and priests of the diocese. Shared oversight is also the work of this body. Each one of you is participating in our shared responsibility for this Diocese that we steward for future generations.

I am so very grateful for the Diocese of Georgia, where I see how your varied gifts come together to let your lights shine as you serve your communities. I look forward to seeing how the Holy Spirit will bless our faithfulness as we keep Jesus at the center of our common life for the year to come. As your chief priest and pastor, I find myself, as always, extremely grateful to be with you on this team. 

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue
Bishop of Georgia

Opening Presentation – Convention 2022

Reality
Canon Loren Lasch
201st Convention of the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia

Thank you, Bishop Logue, and good morning, everyone. As Bishop Logue said, I am the Canon to the Ordinary for the Diocese. I began in this role in July of 2020, and so I may still be a relatively new face to many of you. However, before this time, I spent 16 years of my life as a part of this diocese, first as a high school student, and continuing on through college, seminary, and the first five years of my priesthood. This is the Diocese that shaped me and encouraged my vocation…I see many faces in this room who have played an integral part in shining the light of Jesus Christ into my life. I have been so grateful to be back in my diocesan home these last two and a half years!

Before I share with you what I’d like to talk about today, though, I should be honest…when I first arrived here, a month after beginning my freshman year of high school in 1995 I was…not grateful. And maybe just a teensy bit bratty about it. My mother and I had moved from Gordonsville, VA, a town of just over 1500 people where I’d lived all my life, to the sprawling, grand metropolis of Savannah (remember…1500 people). I went from being in a class with several dozen people I’d known since kindergarten, to a class of several hundred people I’d never met. And I’d left behind my church family at Christ Church in Gordonsville, people who had helped raise me from birth, who knew me and loved me, just as I was. I was not happy about this move. 

In time my mother and I joined St. Paul’s in Savannah, and were graciously welcomed by the community there. In the spring of my sophomore year of high school, still unhappy with the move and feeling lonely and adrift, I attended Happening #52 at Honey Creek. Happening is a Christian weekend retreat for youth, led by youth, that encourages faith renewal, community, and discipleship. I’d been signed up for the weekend by Father William Willoughby, the Rector of St. Paul’s (a risky move on his part!) and I knew very little about what I was in for. We had a family funeral that week, and so I was several hours late arriving to Honey Creek. Happening doesn’t begin until everyone has arrived, so I walked into a room full of people who all turned to stare at the person who’d delayed their retreat. Not at all awkward. As my mother spoke with the organizers to get me signed in, a kind young man ran over to welcome me. At that moment the entertainment team began to play the song Lord of the Dance. If you were active in diocesan youth programs in those days, you know that whenever that song was played, the crowd went wild and began dancing and running around the room. The kind greeter grabbed me by the hand, yelled “hey, I’m Cletus, c’mon, let’s dance!” and took off running. I immediately fell to the floor, and proceeded to be dragged across the room while he sang with glee and joined the group. 

If my life had been a movie, that would be the point when everyone else would suddenly freeze, and I’d look directly into the camera and say something like “how in the world did I get here???” At that moment I did not feel hopeful, or ready for renewal. I felt even more deeply in my bones that I did not belong here and I wanted my life to go back to exactly the way it was before. 

During a Happening weekend there are a series of talks given by the teenage staff members, about challenges and opportunities that youth face on a regular basis, and how God is present in those moments. One of the first talks at each Happening is the Reality talk. It invites the participants to think about the different realities of our lives – physical, material, social, and spiritual. 

Basically, it asks the listeners to ask where they are in the present, and how God is a part of that reality. Listening to that talk, on that first night, I did not have a sense of God’s presence in my reality. I so longed for what had been that I couldn’t see past my disappointments and envision a future of new possibilities, with Jesus walking alongside me.

As you might have guessed, much changed for me during that weekend. It was my road to Emmaus experience. I saw, possibly for the first time, how God was present in my reality, even when that reality wasn’t what I expected or even what I hoped for. When I was able to begin to let go of the way things were, I saw that God was calling me forward, into the community of this diocese and the joy could come with sharing in ministry here. 

This is a long introduction to the core of what I’d like to share with you all today: the reality of our present moment as the people of the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia. The reason I share this story of my own recognition of God in the midst of reality is not to say “look at how faithful I was!” It’s to share that, even though I had that powerful experience, many times since then I’ve fallen back into the default of missing the presence of God in the now, because the then was better. I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet that many of you have, too. Episcopalians aren’t really known for liking change!

The way in which I’ve embraced this tendency the most has been, of course, in the months and years since the COVID-19 pandemic began. In March of 2020, I’d already begun the interview process for this role, and had spent a good bit of time thinking toward the things I’d love to focus on if I were to return back to the Diocese of Georgia. COVID guidance and risk mitigation strategies were not among those things. The arrival of the pandemic put a halt to so much, in our lives and in our churches. We spent so much time yearning to return back to normal, to pick up where we left off and not lose all the momentum we’d built. 

But normal never came. Church life has been different in so many ways. Some of them brought unexpected joy, like livestreaming services so we could join in community. But many of them have brought stress and worry and disillusionment into our parishes. Rather than directly facing that reality, I’ve held tightly to what was, convinced that normal must be just around the corner. 

Early this Fall I was putting together the annual full time priests’ salary survey. For a decade this has been an incredibly helpful tool, helping parishes to determine fair compensation relative to churches with similar attendance and finances, and toward parity among the clergy of the diocese. As I was working on this document, I was struck by seeing the average Sunday attendance of our parishes, knowing what they’d been in recent years. And so I went to the parochial reports, to compare the average Sunday attendance for in-person services across the diocese for 2019 and 2021. (In 2020 the report only used data from January to March, so those numbers aren’t as accurate a picture of the state of the diocese). I decided to look at 2019 because that’s the year that we’ve been looking back at in the Diocesan Office. Knowing our parishes have been in such flux, we’ve continued to focus on 2019 data, until things settle down (read: until things return to normal). We even used the 2019 ASA to determine the number of voting delegates for this convention. I knew we’d been doing a lot of looking back, and I wanted to see how different that really was from our current reality. 

For the 2019 parochial report, the 68 worshiping communities of the Diocese of Georgia reported a combined total in-person average Sunday attendance of 5,176. For the 2021 report, it was 2,816. A 46% decrease across the diocese. 

I’d like to note here that plate and pledge has gone up around $228,000 from 2019 to 2021…while this is heartening, it means that fewer people are giving more money to reach a modest increase, and that may not remain sustainable. 

When I looked at those numbers, there in black and white on my screen, my first impulse was to simply close the computer, forget what I’d seen, and just keep looking back. But after the initial shock, I realized that much of the stress we’d been feeling as a diocesan staff, and much of the stress I’d seen in the parishes I’d been working with, could be attributed to the chasm between these numbers, and the struggle to move backward, thinking God was waiting for us in the before. And instead of feeling anxious, I felt relieved. (Ok, yes, I was still a little anxious!) Truly facing the reality of where we are with this data was a weight off my shoulders. Of course things have felt drastically different in our parishes. Because, on the whole, they simply are. And in a way that’s not likely to change over the course of just a couple of years. I shared these findings with two attendees of the Diocesan Lay Ministers’ Conference the following weekend, and recognized my own reactions on their faces: shock, anxiety, and then a bit of a sigh of relief, knowing that the things they’d been seeing were not just present in their own congregations, but across the diocese.  

Around the same time as I was looking into these numbers, diocesan transition ministers from across the country were coming together for annual gatherings. At these meetings open positions and clergy searching for calls were being presented, in case a good match between priest and parish could be made. I met with colleagues from Province IV, which encompasses the Southeastern part of the United States. Together, from eleven dioceses, we presented 41 full time openings, 51 part time openings, and just 11 priests looking for positions. The next week another group of transition ministers, from 32 different dioceses across the church, presented 104 full time openings, 177 part time openings, and just 26 priests. We saw very clearly that the days when we had more priests than openings are far behind us. The reality is simply that there is a shortage of priests, and especially those looking for part time calls.

That reality has felt especially stark here within the Diocese of Georgia. Of our 68 congregations, we currently have 19 in transition, from rectors who have just announced retirement, to congregations with interims in place, and those actively searching for candidates (and we have another four congregations not actively in transition, who will likely rely solely on lay leadership and supply priests for the foreseeable future). Of the 19 parishes in transition, 12 are searching for part time priests.

This is all the reality of our present moment: we’re at 46% of our previous average Sunday attendance, fewer people are giving more to reach a modest financial increase, and 27% of our congregations are searching for priests, in a wildly different transition ministry landscape. It is not at all surprising to find ourselves wishing to get back to normal. To the way things were. This new reality is complicated. Scary. And, yes, like so much else since March of 2020, unprecedented. 

I do not share all of this with you to leave you with a sense of depression or dread. Believe me, when the Holy Spirit led me to make this presentation to convention, I replied with a firm (but polite!) no thank you. Because who wants to get up in front of the dedicated leaders of the diocese and say here’s where things are, and on paper, they seem somewhat bleak. I share all of this with you because I hope that you too can find some encouragement, as I have, 

in the fact that we are not alone in any of what we’ve been experiencing. Churches across all denominations are facing similar situations of lower numbers and clergy shortages and none of it is because we didn’t work hard enough or believe deeply enough. We simply are where we are, and we’re facing it together.  I believe there is hope in that sense of community in the midst of our new reality.

But, here’s the most important thing I want to say to you all here today. The Triune God is present with us in this new reality. We don’t need to go back to the way things were to see the Holy Spirit’s movement. Even with fewer people and more churches in transition, the light of Christ is shining so brightly across the Diocese of Georgia. One of the gifts of coming back to the Diocese in July of 2020 is that I can say, without a doubt, that God was not only present here before the pandemic. Since I began in this role I have had the privilege of worshiping with 26 parishes. I’ve worked, in many cases multiple times, with 9 search committees and 30 vestries. I’ve spent time talking with most of the deacons and priests of the diocese. In all of this I have seen God at work more times and in more ways than I can count. 

In the form of congregations who have spent their time providing lunches for children who didn’t have enough to eat when school wasn’t taking place in-person. In the form of parishioners banding together to build a home for a family in need. In the form of vestries and search committees prayerfully and deliberately leading and discerning throughout the pandemic. In the form of laypeople and deacons and priests across the diocese providing compassionate care for others in a time of immense worry and grief. 

Though we find ourselves in a new reality, the mission and ministry of the 68 worshiping communities of this diocese has not changed, and the fruit of that work, God’s work, is all around us, here and now. 

Throughout convention we will share a series of stories and resources, including some to take home with you after the closing prayers. These will hopefully provide some ways we can, even in the midst of uncertainty, move forward together and hold fast to the knowledge that God is here, and God is faithful.

I’d like to close today with the first of these, a video from Grace Episcopal Church in Waycross, which reveals God’s presence and work among us in this reality more beautifully than I could ever put into words.

A Spouse’s Perspective on the Lambeth Conference

The Lambeth Conference—as an introvert, I both looked forward to and dreaded attending. From meeting with other spouses of Bishops (via Zoom instead of in-person because of Covid), I learned that we would be broken into small groups of 8-10 with other spouses from around the globe. Which meant, I was sure, that I would have to hear the simple phrase that accelerates the hearts of introverts: Let’s go around and introduce ourselves.

Because I am on the board for the Spouses Planning Group as their new tech person, I was asked to set up a WhatsApp group for spouses attending Lambeth, which turned out to be really helpful for a number of things from setting up a luncheon for what we termed the “mauve spouses”, the partners of gay and lesbian bishops who were uninvited to Lambeth (although four spouses did show up and were invited to tea by Caroline Welby, wife of the Archbishop of Canterbury) to tracking down a Bishop who had unintentionally left her vaccine card in an airport lounge at Heathrow.

Working with the app also helped me to acquaint myself with some of the spouses attending Lambeth. So, the first time I was asked to introduce myself, I was already familiar with a number of spouses. (photo of Caroline Welby)

The second time was when we began our spouses retreat and we were separated into small groups. “Table 26,” my badge read so I found my table and sat. At that point, there was only one other person at the table. By the time the retreat began, we’d been joined by two more spouses. We were the smallest small group at the Conference, which turned out to be a blessing for both me and Apollo, the husband of the first female Kenyan Bishop, who is also an introvert. Also in my group were Flora, the wife of a Bishop from Zimbabwe, and Steve, the husband of a Bishop in England. Interestingly, and we couldn’t discover another group that had a similar situation, Flora’s and Apollo’s spouses were in Frank’s small group.

Once the retreat was over, we fell into a more regular pattern for our remaining time at the Lambeth Conference. I found that what we did fit in well with the Five Marks of Mission, something talked about regularly around the Anglican Communion, though rarely in America.

Tell: To proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom
Each day, a Plenary session or two would be held in the largest venue (Venue 1) in which both bishops and spouses were invited to attend. There, speakers would talk about the subject for the Lambeth Call that day. This varied from Mission and Evangelism to Christian Unity.

Teach: To teach, baptize and nurture new believers.
Every morning, we would start the day with a Bible Exposition on the verses from I Peter that we were reading that day. This was for both bishops and spouses in Venue 1 and was usually led by Archbishop Justin Welby.

Tend: To respond to human need by loving service.
We would then break up into our small group Bible studies with the Bishops crossing the street to gather at the Parkwood Apartments in small groups and the spouses hurrying over to Venue 2 to gather at our round tables. Here we would look at the verses we had just heard about and speak to them in what became the favorite phrase at the Lambeth Conference: in my context. Because the gathered bishops and spouses were from more than 160 countries from around the world, the context for a spouse in South Sudan was different than the context for a spouse in Pakistan, which was different for a spouse in Malaysia, which was different from a spouse in America . . .

We were able to share within our small groups just how the verses from I Peter spoke to where we were from. We also heard testimonies from spouses around the Communion on everything from their personal relationships with God to the persecution they suffered for being Christian in a Muslim country. Each Bible Study ended with a different Diocese or Country entertaining us with Christian songs from their area in their language. Among those who sang were spouses from South Sudan, the DRC, and Ghana.

Transform: To seek to transform unjust structures of society, to challenge violence of every kind and to pursue peace and reconciliation.
While the bishops worked on these subjects in their Lambeth Calls sessions, spouses were offered a chance to attend what were called “Strengthening Sessions”. These were courses broken up into four sessions of three subjects: Personal Wholeness, Leadership, and Community Action.

As an introvert, I took that time to be alone and recharge my battery for the following day’s program. I did this with the knowledge that all sessions would be available to me online to “attend” once I returned home. In addition, on some days, bishops and spouses were given the time to attend panel discussions on everything from safe church to menstruation.

Treasure: To strive to safeguard the integrity of creation and sustain and renew the life of the earth.
This was the subject we learned about on the day that we were invited to Lambeth Palace in London. After walking an outdoor prayer path and enjoying the gardens and lunch, we gathered to attend a short service as a tree was planted as part of what is known as The Communion Forest. This is a global initiative that will include local activities of forest protection, tree growing, and eco-system restoration that is to be undertaken by provinces, dioceses, and individual churches across the Anglican Communion in order to safeguard creation. Our Creation Care Commission will be working with this initiative in the Diocese of Georgia.

This is just a taste of the many things we were able to do together as bishops and spouses of the Anglican Communion. It was an eye-opening experience as the more than 1,100 of us ate together in the dining halls of the University of Kent and worshipped together at Canterbury Cathedral, taking away memories that will last a lifetime.

Victoria
Victoria Steele Logue

Going Home from Lambeth

In every congregation of the Diocese of Georgia, I know people who disagree with each other profoundly on politics (and sports which is even more difficult) who are grateful to worship together and miss one another if someone is not in church. I value this so much. We differ in many ways, but we all know that we need Jesus and we need each other. I have seen this writ large in gathering with more than 650 bishops from 165 countries at the Lambeth Conference.

One reminder that kept popping up throughout the Conference is the Five Marks of Mission, which are a common framework for Anglicans from the Melanesian Islands to Angola to Brazil but virtually never referenced in the Episcopal Church. The content will not surprise you:

The mission of the Church is the mission of Christ

  • Tell: To proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom
  • Teach: To teach, baptise and nurture new believers.
  • Tend: To respond to human need by loving service.
  • Transform: To seek to transform unjust structures of society, to challenge violence of every kind and to pursue peace and reconciliation.
  • Treasure: To strive to safeguard the integrity of creation and sustain and renew the life of the earth .

And this is what binds us when unanimity fails: one Lord, one faith, one baptism. We are all reformed and catholic, we love the scriptures and the sacraments and at our best we love one another.

When we gathered here, Archbishop Welby said, “You are the shepherds of your flock as I am the shepherd of the flock that I serve. Let us not act in a way that disgraces our witness. Speak frankly, but in love.”

I know we have been candid with one another. I know deep division remains. Yet, we spoke in love and honored our witness to that first proclamation, “Jesus is Lord.” While on retreat in Canterbury Cathedral, I saw graves and monuments all around, the site where an Archbishop of Canterbury was martyred and a king repented. I found myself contemplating the differences that must have existed between all the people those monuments honor. What came to mind was the praise song, “Jesus, Jesus, there is something about that name. Kings and kingdoms shall all pass away, but there is something about that name.”

Last evening, in a bit of serendipity, I came back to the dorm from the Eucharist walking, holding hands, and talking with the Archbishop of South Sudan, on a lovely late evening in Kent with Canterbury Cathedral at our backs and a return home in front of us. Two bishops from very different contexts with different views of a Jesus shaped life, but with the most important thing in common: we are both beloved children of God, united by one Lord, one faith, one baptism.

The Anglican Communion and the Lambeth Conference are contingent, temporary. As is our Diocese of Georgia. The degree to which we keep Jesus at the center determines the eternal significance of what we do. This time away has me longing to be with y’all as we continue following Jesus in this Anglican way that connects us to siblings around the globe.

pax et bonum,
+Frank

A Report from the Lambeth Conference

“Like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house” —1 Peter 2:5a

I am at the Lambeth Conference of Bishops of the Anglican Communion with more than 650 bishops and more than 460 spouses from 165 countries. Our time together includes a deep dive into the First Letter of Peter led by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby. This week Bishop Hosam Rafa Naoum, the Bishop of Jerusalem and the Middle East, who I met at his church in 2018 before either of us were elected as bishops, told me then and repeated again to a gathering this week that people go to the Holy Land to see the stones, but need to meet the living stones, the Christians of the Holy Land. Now here at Canterbury Cathedral, an ancient site of pilgrimage, I have enjoyed this historic place, but am being transformed by the living stones, the bishops and spouses from around the world.

I am in a small group Bible Study like no other as the Archbishop of Canterbury, who as an evangelical places a very high priority for scripture, opens up a passage for us. Then I gather with a group facilitated by a bishop from Kenya and meet with bishops from Northern India, South Sudan, Zimbabwe, and England. You get a passage to consider and soon you are hearing about a group of people faced with: how can we forgive the people who killed our families as we think God is calling us to do? Or how do I navigate my role as President of the Council of Churches with a Dictator who does not want to hear the truth, but my role is to speak it? There are so many more transformative conversations I have enjoyed in my time here. Like Sunday evening when I had a long talk with a 21-year old man from Sri Lanka who is a cradle member of our Church of South India, and learned of the ways his faith has been tested and yet he hears the Holy Spirit calling him to reach those hurt by the church who struggle with the same questions he encountered.

I am finding this time so humbling. The problems we face in Central and South Georgia are put into perspective by dedicated followers of Jesus who love Word and Sacrament as we do and face daily challenges we can not imagine. This is the 15th Lambeth Conference since the first in 1867. While the provinces of the Anglican Communion, such as our Episcopal Church, are independent, we are also deeply interdependent and while this conference has no authority over us, the moral authority over time makes a difference.

I have so enjoyed seeing people around our church, like Bishop Lloyd Allen of Honduras who is part of the Episcopal Church. I enjoyed serving with him on Executive Council and we both have daughters in Vet School. And then there is Bishop Mark Strange the Primus of Scotland who was in my Zoom small group in the lead up to this conference and who took part some in our pilgrimage to Scotland before Lambeth. I have also been amazed by the providence of finding myself in line for the procession on Sunday alongside a bishop to whom I introduced myself. I learned he is an assisting bishop in Kibondo, Tanzania, where I served as an intern while in seminary in 1998. We have never met and yet we know so many of the same people! What a delight.

I am here because you elected me as your bishop and I represent you here in a worldwide gathering. I remember Bishop Harry Shipps talking glowingly of meeting colleagues from around the world and coming home to share his joy in being a member of the Anglican Communion. I remember Bishop Henry and Jan Louttit being here in 2008 for the last Lambeth Conference on our behalf. (The Lambeth Conference was not held during Bishop Scott Benhase’s episcopacy).

Know that you are connected to millions of followers of Jesus around the globe who get what it is to be Prayer Book people. They face hardships we don’t have to endure and are supported by the same Jesus we know and love. This is such a comfort, a gift, and a sign of grace.

pax et bonum,
+Frank

The Logues represent Georgia at the Lambeth Conference

As the Bishops of the Anglican Communion meet together for the first time since 2008, Bishop Frank and Victoria Logue are representing the Diocese of Georgia at the historic meeting. First convened by the Archbishop of Canterbury in 1867, these conferences are an essential part of establishing and maintaining connections with Anglicans around the world. With the theme of ‘God’s Church for God’s World – walking, listening and witnessing together,’ the conference will explore what it means for the Anglican Communion to be responsive to the needs of a 21st Century world.

The conference takes place across venues at the University of Kent, Canterbury Cathedral, and Lambeth Palace from July 26 through August 8. The more than 650 bishops and 460 spouses represent dioceses from around 165 countries of the Anglican Communion – one of the largest Christian communities in the world.

Victoria is on the leadership team for the “House of Spouse” as the spouses of the House of Bishops are known. She will take part in a variety of events at Lambeth that will include any of the spouses of the Episcopal Church who will be present for the conference as well as spouses from around the Communion. The spouse gatherings are an important part of the meeting.

Bishops of Georgia have made the trip since our second bishop, the Rt. Rev. John W. Beckwith (1831-1890) attended two Lambeth Conferences. Bishop Logue began his preparation last August when he started meeting online monthly with a group of 15 bishops from northern India to the Yukon, including the primates of the churches of Scotland and Canada. This week, that group will meet in person for a Bible Study and then a retreat within Canterbury Cathedral to begin the meeting.

The announced goal of the conference is to resource, inspire, and encourage Bishops in their local ministries; supporting their pastoral and leadership roles in church life and mission as we all follow Jesus. In an unexpected move, the Archbishop of Canterbury sent out a 58-page document to affirm as a body. The text is problematic as it asks for clear stands together where there are deeply held differences. Most notably, it initially asked those in attendance to reaffirm Lambeth resolution I.10, from 1998, which is against extending all of the sacraments to all baptized Christians. The concerns many bishops raised, including Bishop Logue, led to a revision, which itself may be the subject of further debate. This late change is shifting the character of the meeting even as bishops are checking in on site for the conference. Please hold the Logues in prayer as they worship and discern alongside their colleagues from around the world a faithful way to continue to walk together given these differences, while honoring the dignity of all God’s children.

+Frank
The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue, Bishop of Georgia

The Logues renew an historic connection to Aberdeen

This week, Bishop Frank and Victoria Logue travel to the Diocese of Aberdeen and Orkney in Scotland as part of a journey to further renew an historic connection. This trip is thanks to his ordination and consecration as bishop being significantly downsized to prevent spreading COVID-19.

In the spring of 2020, Presiding Bishop Michael Curry saw how the pandemic led to history was repeating itself when planning was underway to consecrate a handful of bishops with only the minimal people present as required by canons. He was reminded of the Scottish Episcopal Church’s cathedral in Aberdeen where a small gathering consecrated Samuel Seabury as the first American Bishop in November 1784. Bishop Curry referred to the liturgies in pandemic as “Aberdeen Consecrations.” When Bishop Logue became the first person made a bishop with a congregation largely online, the image was even clearer as Communications Manager Liz Williams’ photo of the moment with just three bishops laying on hands looked more like a stained glass window in Aberdeen than any consecration in memory.

Today, Seabury is better know as being a rival to Alexander Hamilton thanks to a Broadway Musical, but his consecration in Scotland became a catalyst for the interconnectedness we see Anglicanism developing in the centuries. Seabury had been duly elected Bishop of Connecticut, but when he went to England seeking consecration, he was told he would have to pledge allegiance to the King of the consecration to go forward. This was a non-starter for a bishop of the new nation. The independent streak that runs deep in Scotland, made it natural for the bishops there who had refused to swear and oath to William and Mary to consecrate a bishop with no such requirement. The Scottish Episcopal Church and the Episcopal Church in American forged close ties in the 18th century that have remained.

To honor this history and further renew the connection, Bishop Logue, together with Bishop Deon Johnson of Missouri, Bishop Glenda Curry of Alabama, and Bishop Craig Loya of Minnesota will travel this week to Scotland for a series of visits in the Diocese of Aberdeen and Orkney. Bishop Logue will preach at St. Andrew’s in Alford this coming Sunday as a part of this visit.

From Scotland, the Logues will travel south to England to represent the Diocese of Georgia at the Lambeth Conference, a gathering more than 650 Anglican bishops from around the world. Bishop Henry and Jan Louttit attended the most recent Lambeth meeting in 2008. We will share more on the Lambeth Conference in next week.

We are not alone

The Seventh Sunday of Easter 
St. Thomas Isle of Hope, Savannah
May 29, 2022 

The Rev. Canon Loren Lasch 

  This past Thursday was Ascension Day, a very important day in the Church year. This principal feast, which is on par with Christmas and Easter, commemorates the day when Jesus completed his earthly ministry and ascended into heaven. It is a day of great joy, a day to celebrate the fact that our God, who lived among us, who died and rose again, has returned to a place of great glory and honor.  

Two readings on Ascension Day tell the story of Jesus’ ascension. In the account from Luke’s Gospel, we are told that Jesus led the disciples “out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.”  

In the account from the Acts of the Apostles, we are told “While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, ‘Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.’” 

Personally, I feel like the account from Acts is a bit more realistic, with the disciples gazing toward heaven, probably open mouthed with confused faces, watching their Lord and teacher and friend grow smaller and smaller until they could no longer see him. Obviously we know that they didn’t just stand in the place, forever, but I imagine it took them some time before they could unroot themselves from the spot and head out into the world, not quite knowing the way without THE Way to guide them. 

Jesus, of course, had told them this was going to happen. We just heard it in last week’s Gospel reading, which ended with him saying “And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.”  But, I wonder if they still didn’t see the Ascension coming. Maybe they just weren’t listening, or thought Jesus was speaking in metaphor when he said he was going to return to the Father. I think it’s more likely they were willfully trying to pretend it wasn’t going to happen. After all, they had already experienced a world without Jesus, and it had left them broken. 

I think that’s why the account of the Ascension from Acts feels more likely to me, because I can easily imagine them standing there that day, unable to move, feeling the weight of Holy Saturday enshrouding them once more as they watched Jesus leave them forever. Leaving them utterly bereft. 

That image of the disciples especially resonates with me this week, because that is how I have been feeling, as though I’ve been watching goodness and mercy and love slip away, ever since I first heard the news about the unbearably tragic killing of 19 children and 2 teachers at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas. Utterly bereft.  

I’ve felt other things, too, of course. Overwhelming grief. Paralyzing fear. Pounding anger. Over and over again, in turn, as more details come to light. And I’ve found myself searching for Jesus, desperately, as I’ve prayed for these families and this community. As I’ve hugged my two elementary aged children as tightly as I can. As I’ve searched for the right words, or even any words, to say after such a horrifying moment in our shared lives.  

But, I will freely admit, I’ve felt like the disciples after the Ascension, like I’ve been gazing up into heaven in vain. Not because Christ isn’t there. Because of course he is. But at times it’s been almost impossible to glimpse him through the tears.  

As a preacher, I’ll often go back to previous sermons about certain readings or topics, to see which ideas still speak to me. And it’s always a delight to find words previously preached which could work again, reworked to fit a different context, at a different time. But it’s almost unbearable to know that I could have looked back and found a sermon for something so horrifying, preached after the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School almost a decade ago.  

I imagine I’ve not been alone this week. I imagine I’m not the only one who has wondered how, HOW to get through something like this…again, in the midst of all of the rest of the pain and sorrow in the world. I imagine I haven’t been the only one who has been, like the disciples, desperately trying to see Jesus.  

Here’s the thing about the disciples, though. Bereft though they likely were, they knew, on some level, that they weren’t really alone. For starters, they were in community. They were connected by their shared experiences as followers of Jesus, shared moments of sorrow and joy, shared yearning for continued communion with Christ. The bonds they had formed didn’t cease to exist in the face of uncertainty. They could lean on each other, look to each other for comfort and guidance as they together worked out what they would do next.  

But they also knew that they weren’t alone because Jesus promised that they would soon receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.  

“And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you for ever.” 

“But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” 

“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes to you”  

This may have seemed like a nebulous promise at the time, but it was a promise, and Jesus has shown them time and again that he was trustworthy and true. So they knew that the Spirit would be coming, help would be coming, power would be coming, to move alongside them and through them as they continued to spread the Good News of God in Christ throughout a pain and sorrow-filled world. To remind them that they were not alone, would never be alone, even in the midst of the darkest of times. 

And that gift of the Holy Spirit, the power of God, the promise of Christ, is with us. Always. Next Sunday is the Feast of Pentecost, when we celebrate that gift with great joy. But the Spirit is already here, will always be here, reminding us that we are not alone. In today’s Gospel reading we’ve gone back in time, and Jesus is praying to the Father, seated with his disciples at the Last Supper. He says: “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” 

The Holy Spirit is among us to remind us that God’s love, Incarnate in Christ, remains with us. And not only that, but we are conduits of that love. The Holy Spirit is known as many things: the Advocate, the Helper, the Sustainer, the Comforter. The Spirit is present with us in all of those ways, and many more, and enables and empowers us to be present in those same ways in the world.   

That looks different at different times and for different people of course. The ways in which we advocate for and help others, the ways in which we sustain and comfort others, are unique to each of us, and our ability to do them may wax and wane. Some days we may be ready to take on all of the injustice in the world head-on. Some days we may be able to provide words of comfort and solace to someone who is utterly bereft. And some days we may only be able to offer a hand to someone as we search for Jesus together. But the power of the Holy Spirit, moving alongside us and through us, is ever-present. Even in the darkest of times, we are not alone.  

No matter what, we are never alone.  

Hope for those in deep water

Bishop Frank Logue preached this sermon at Christ Church Episcopal in Savannah, Georgia, on February 6, 2022.

Hope for those in deep water
Luke 5:1-11

For those who are stretched thin, stressed out, over-committed, and really struggling, there is some very Good News in our scripture readings. These texts offer a lifeline for those who are in too deep from the perspective of people who don’t wonder if they measure up, they each know they are not enough for what they face.

Here is the quick recap: The Prophet Isaiah starts us off by saying, “Woe is me! I am lost.” He finds himself in God’s presence and knows he is unworthy. Then Paul describes himself at “Unfit” for the work before him.

Simon Peter hasn’t had the best of nights either. He tells Jesus, “We have worked all night long but have caught nothing,” only to have the Rabbi Messiah-splain fishing to a guy who has done nothing else for a living. Then after a miraculous catch, he falls at Jesus’ feet saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

Nothing sounded like Good News to me until I looked at the Gospel passage from below, well below the waters of the Sea of Galilee, seeing a net descending. Okay, I know, a story of nets bursting with fish may not sound like Good News for the fish, but there is something deeper going on here. I stumbled into grace and love when I realized what Jesus did not say.

I thought Jesus was going to tell the fisher folk, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” That is not what Jesus said. Instead, as Deacon Patti read, Jesus says, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” I looked it up in the original Greek and found that there is even more nuance in the ancient text which says, “you will be catching people alive.”

For those of us who have often heard the phrase “Fishers of men,” fear not. That is in the Bible. In telling this story, Matthew and Mark both use that same play on words, of fishing for humans. It is in the Bible. But the Gospel writer in the physician Luke and he diagnoses what is going on here differently. At the start of his Gospel he told us that others have written the story of Jesus, but he interviewed people who were there in the beginning and is writing an orderly account of Jesus’ whole life and ministry. Luke knew Jesus to be the Good Shepherd who would leave the safe and sound 99 sheep to rescue the one left out in the night alone.

Luke saw how Jesus treated the many people who had gotten themselves in too deep—from Matthew and Zaccheus who found the tax racket unfulfilling, to a woman about to be put to death for adultery, and the thief dying next to him on a Roman cross. Luke knew that Jesus went to the lepers shunned by others and prayed for them. Jesus stopped by a well in Samaria and encountered a woman seeing herself through the eyes of a judgmental community so that she would not get water when others would be there.

Luke looked ahead to the time when these followers of Jesus would be preaching and teaching long after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. He didn’t see a boat full of dying fish, but a church full of people scooped up to safety after having found themselves lost in the chaos of the deep. Luke emphasized the good news by saying the followers of Jesus would bring people up from the depths alive.

There is no us and them here—Us, the people who are okay, and them, the people who don’t have their lives in order. I used to think that there were two times in life—the times when I had my act together and the times when life was suddenly spinning out of control. But we all come to see that control is an illusion. For people who feel like they have everything under control and life is just perfect will come to the day when they can’t hold it together and that is not the end. For followers of Jesus, when our carefully maintained façade crumbles, God is there, loving the person behind the persona.

Christians, dare I say, even Episcopalians, don’t have inherently easier lives with no rough spots. Following Jesus, won’t keep us out of a car wreck or health crisis. We end up in the emergency room or ICU like anyone else. And we too can put our hope in good grades, the perfect school, the right spouse or house or car or career—not bad in themselves, actually quite good, these are still no safety net. So we can end up like Simon Peter in the Gospel who he has been working hard with nothing that lasts to show for it.

Yet, what we do have as followers of Jesus is a relationship with the God who is working to redeem our world one wild and precious life at a time. What we have is the knowledge that everything we now see and experience is not all there is. The creator of the cosmos knows you by name, has always loved you, will never give up on you, and wants better for you. We have the hope in the God who goes to the depths of human existence to love, truly love, those who see themselves as lost, unfit, and sinful. God is always offering a chance for a clean slate, a fresh start, and will never leave you to the chaos that threatens to consume you. God will send a net.

This passage of a call to follow Jesus also serves as a reminder that the love of God is not supposed to be like a pocket warmer, that keeps you warm while leaving others out in the cold. Jesus did not teach us to just love God and love ourselves, though that is two thirds of what he said. Jesus also taught us to love out neighbors as ourselves. Each one of us comes into contact with people every day who don’t know how they are going to make it through the next 24 hours, much less the week ahead. We are surrounded by people are masking deep pain with prescription drugs, alcohol, workaholism, people pleasing to the point of destroying their lives, and a host of other self-defeating behaviors.

This is why I find youth ministry to be the front lines of ministry. It is a miracle people get out of middle school and high school with any shred of self asteem and that was true before the pandemic. Most people sometime between the age of 10 and 25 pick up emotional wounds that will remain festering and seeping poison into their psyches unless they can find healing.

At 40, they remember the name of the bully in sixth grade and at 50, they recall the friend who gossiped and betrayed them. Any of us can fall into replaying tapes in our heads of the harsh and cruel things others have said and see ourselves through their eyes. If you take those messages to heart, you are not seeing yourself as God sees you. God sees you as beloved.

For hurting people, the good news of Jesus is not about getting into heaven, though it is about that. The Gospel is as much about getting people out of the hell they are in now. And we can be a part of how God accomplishes this. You and I can offer listening ear, a kind word, or even (dare I say it in pandemic), a hug. We get to be a part of stopping the cycle of pain and abuse as we share love and compassion with our friends, co-workers, and family, those we are connected with closely who find life spinning out of control.

When the Holy Spirit reaches out to those who feel lost and abandoned, God uses people like you and me to make the love of God real.

We will reaffirm in just a moment, that as baptized Christians, we all share a common call to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ as we seek and serve Christ in all persons and respect the dignity of every human being. For none of us can be truly free until we are all free. We cannot be truly at liberty while another beloved child of God is lost in the depths. Far from being a chore, showing love and compassion to someone who is hurting is how God blesses us with that same love.

Amen.

 

Eulogy for Bishop Henry I. Louttit, Jr.

The video above is set to start 38 minutes in when the liturgy begins. The sermon starts at 59:20.

A Eulogy for the funeral of the Rt. Rev. Henry I. Louttit, Jr. offered by the Rev. Lonnie Lacy at Christ Church, Savannah, on December 29, 2021.

Isaiah 11:1-9, Psalm 148, Revelation 21:2-7, and John 14:1-6

In the Episcopal Church,
our funerals force us to find Easter—
to celebrate it,
yearn for it,
hope for it—
to declare boldly the resurrection
no matter the season or the circumstance.

Even if today were Good Friday,
still, we would pull out the gold vestments,
light up the Paschal candle,
and make our song
“Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!”
because what we know, dear friends,
is that nothing can ever or will ever
overshadow the glory of Easter
and the promise of the resurrection.

But today is not Good Friday.
Instead, we find ourselves
holding an Easter liturgy
in the middle of Christmastide.

Christmas and Easter.
Incarnation and Resurrection.
Poinsettias, the Paschal Candle,
and the Real Presence of Christ
all in one place.

This, y’all, is the liturgical jackpot . . .
and Henry Louttit would be so pleased.

Here today
between the crèche and the cross
we see the whole story of the One
who was born for us,
who died for us,
who rose for us,
and who has promised to come again
to gather us, judge us, and love us
for all eternity.

Days like today—
in all their unintended intersection
and accidental beauty—
give us a vision
of the whole of God’s plan
and of the Bridge he has built for us
between this life
and the life of the world to come.

What better day could there be
to celebrate and remember our
bishop,
priest,
husband,
father,
grandfather,
brother,
uncle,
and friend
Henry Irving Louttit, Jr.?

Of course, we are not the first
to have a mystic vision
of the fulness of God’s plan
or if that Bridge that stands
between this world and the next.

As we just heard,
Isaiah had that vision, too.
So did David.
So did John.

For Isaiah it was that old stump of Jesse
springing back to life,
pointing to a day when
the wolf will lie with the lamb,
the lion will graze with the ox,
and a little child will lead them all
in a kingdom filled with peace.

For David, it was the vision
of all creation belting out God’s glory:
from the angels of the highest heaven
to the sea-monsters of the deep,
everything pouring forth
God’s eternal praise.

And for John?
For John it was that city
sparkling in the sky:
a new Jerusalem for you and me,
adorned like a bride
coming down the aisle
to meet her beloved groom.

If this collection of readings
tells us anything,
it tells us that
to see the Kingdom of God
requires imagination,
a certain kind of whimsy,
a spiritual make-believe
or mysticism.

To see the Bridge God has made
between the world as it is
and the world as it will one day be
requires a unique kind of vision.

This was the vision
our friend Henry
carried in his heart.

* * *

I imagine if I asked today,
“When was a moment in your life
when Henry Louttit showed you
the Kingdom of God
or the Bridge between
this world and the next?”
the thought-bubbles over our heads
would astonish and delight us,
make us laugh and make us cry,
and number in the thousands.

Henry Louttit saw the Kingdom of God,
and in his unique, gentle, creative way,
he pointed us to it as often as he could.

Henry saw the Kingdom of God,
and he believed it to be a place
of gentleness and peace.

Someone recently told me
of a moment at Christ Church Valdosta
when an angry neighbor of the church
came barging into Henry’s office,
yelling about something
they believed was wrong
“because God said so!”

Henry never lost his cool,
never raised his voice,
never flinched.

He just said—quietly but firmly—
“Well, I’m glad you heard
God say that so clearly.
God has not said that to me yet, though,
so for now we’re going to keep going.”

Some have said
Henry did not like confrontation,
which may be true,
but the greater truth is that he
willingly, purposely, and repeatedly
aligned himself with
the Prince of Peace.

He also had that disarming way
of speaking in the third person.

As a young priest I would get angry
and complain about this person or that,
hoping he—as my bishop—
would take my side.

Inevitably he would sit patiently,
grin, and say, “Now now.
Henry and Lonnie have known
many wonderful human beings,
and Lonnie must remember
that God loves all his children,
even when Lonnie
is frustrated with them.”

Every time!
With gentleness and peace
the voice of God would come through,
and gentleness and peace
would win every time.

Henry saw the Kingdom of God,
and he also believed it to be a place 
where everyone matters,
everyone needs each other,
and everyone has gifts to bring.

As a shy, studious introvert,
he hated church camp as a child
where everything was centered on sports,
so as an adult he helped to create
a whole new way of doing camp where
the scholars, artists, and poets among us
could also find a place,
and know themselves to be loved
and valued by the Lord Jesus
in community.

The crown jewel of his camp vision
was Camp St. Gregory,
a music camp where
kids could learn to sing
and explore their gifts for music.
The lucky ones got to take recorder lessons
with Father Louttit, and that continued
even after he became bishop.

In the 80’s and 90’s at Christ Church
he raised up women for leadership—
lay and ordained—
when others had not yet
had the courage to do so.

He cultivated teens and college students
to exercise their spiritual gifts.

As the rector of the only
Episcopal church in Valdosta,
he could have been territorial,
but instead he wholeheartedly supported
starting St. Barnabas across town,
and he welcomed with open arms
a young Stan White
and his pentecostal church
into the Episcopal fold.
And the Episcopal Church in Valdosta grew.

As our current bishop
is fond of mentioning,
when Henry became bishop
he did the unthinkable:
he put us at round tables at Convention!
With people we did not know!
And forced us to talk, and pray,
and come to know one another!

He taught us to value each other’s gifts.
He taught us to love one another.
He took what once was
a competitive ecclesiastical meeting
and turned it into our annual
diocesan family reunion.

Henry saw the Kingdom of God,
and he believed it to be a place
where worship brings
heaven and earth together
and where every altar
becomes the throne of God.

As a priest he was a phenomenal liturgist.
This is something those of you
who only ever knew him as bishop
never really got to see in full force,
but as a priest he celebrated
the fullness of the prayer book
with that characteristic whimsy of his,
putting cacti in the windows during Lent
to immerse us in the wilderness,
and baptizing people by full immersion.
(In the Episcopal Church!
Who’d’ve thought?)

He made Jesus come to life for us,
and the way he grafted the life of Jesus
onto the lives of his parishioners
permanently transformed
generations of us in Valdosta.

He taught children to hold the prayer book
and how to officiate the evening offices.

He filled dark places with candlelight
and helped us to know and believe
the mystery and majesty of God.

He gathered people together.
He truly said his prayers.
He taught us to pray, too.

And finally,
Henry saw the Kingdom of God,
and he believed it to be a place of joy.

Probably no one knew this better
than those four women
lucky enough to live with him.

We all knew Henry in one way or another,
but I suspect the most wonderful version
was the silly, joyful husband and father:

who would pretend to dance ballet
with his girls in the living room;

who once brought a bunny home
because its fur had a white band
around its neck like a clergy collar,
and taught it to use a litter box
and walk on a leash;

who played Old Maid
and wore a doily on his head
any time he lost;

who took his family on nature walks
in the mountains
and marshes
and beaches
and taught them to marvel
at God’s creation;

who instilled in Amy the librarian
his love of
literature,
learning,
and words;

in Katie the teacher
his love of
people,
empowerment,
and instruction;

and in Susan the priest
his love for the Christ’s Body the Church;

and who loved Jan:
beautiful, wonderful Jan,
who loved him back fiercely;

Jan, whom he’d encountered
plenty of times as a child
on his father’s visitations to her church
but had always been too quiet,
too shy to say hello;

Jan, whom he promised his
college friend he would “look after”
because his college friend
was dating her at the time
but had to go overseas;
(apparently Henry did an excellent job);

Jan, whom Henry adored
with a love, a gentleness, and a joy
that taught others of us
how to love our spouses, too,
and that rivaled John’s vision
of that bride and that groom
at that heavenly banquet
in the new Jerusalem.

Henry saw the Kingdom,
and he knew it to be a place
of peace and gentleness,
of unity, worship, and joy.

* * *

Somehow, ever since I was a child
I always associated Henry with C.S. Lewis.

Maybe it’s because he loved Lewis
and taught me to love him, too.

Maybe it’s because Henry’s brand
of whimsy and mysticism
often had a lot in common with Lewis’.

Or maybe it’s just because
the guy’s license plate
said “Aslan” for all those years.

But I close with a quote from the end
of Voyage of the Dawn Treader,
in which the great lion Aslan
tells Lucy and Edmund
they are now too old to return to Narnia
and must remain in our own world.

“Oh Aslan!” Lucy says.
“How can we live
never meeting you again?”

“But you shall meet me, dear one,”
said Aslan.

“Are-are you [in our world] too, Sir?”
said Edmund.

“I am,” said Aslan.
“But there I have another name.
You must learn to know me by that name.”

“Oh, Aslan,” said Lucy.
“Will you tell us how
to get into your country
from our world?”

“I shall be telling you all the time,”
said Aslan.
“But I will not tell you
how long or short the way will be;
only that it lies across a river.
But do not fear that,
for I am the great Bridge Builder.”

Brothers and sisters,
we have seen and know
the great Bridge Builder.

In our world,
he is the One
between the crèche and the cross,
who was born for us,
lived for us,
died for us,
rose for us,
and will come again for us.

He is the One
who goes before us
to prepare a place for us.

We know him by his name.

He is Jesus:
the alpha and the omega,
the way,
the truth,
and the life. 

He is both
the Bridge Builder 
AND the Bridge.

He is the One to whom
the mystics have all been pointing
all this whole time:

Isaiah with his peaceable kingdom;
David with his joyful creation;
John with his new Jerusalem;

and Henry—our beloved Henry—
with his candles and music,
with his liturgies and prayers,
with his vision of unity and
fellowship despite our divisions,
with gentleness and joy,
with whimsy and make believe,
with faith, and hope, and love.

We know Jesus better—
we see the Bridge better
and the Kingdom more clearly—
because Henry helped
to point the way.

So on this day
as Christmas and Easter collide
and we celebrate with joy
the fullness of our redemption,
rejoice . . .

Rejoice, my friends,
for today our
bishop,
priest,
husband,
father,
grandfather,
brother,
uncle,
and friend
has crossed that Bridge
and entered into Aslan’s true country.

And looking now from that distant shore,
with saints and angels
and all the company of heaven,
he forever makes his song,
“Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.”

Amen.

Grace for all the feral cats

Bishop Frank Logue preached this sermon at St. Thomas Episcopal Church in Thomasville, Georgia on June 26, 2021.

Grace for all the feral cats
A sermon for the ordination of Susan Gage to the Sacred Order of Deacons
Acts 6:2-7

“In the name of Jesus Christ, you are to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely.”

I will say these words to Susan during The Examination in just a few minutes. The words I want to stay instead are, “In the name of Jesus Christ, you are to serve all people, particularly the feral cats that need to find their true home.”

I use this term advisedly and knowingly as I am one who has been tamed by an actual feral cat who found her way into my home. That was real. No metaphor yet. And then I spoke to Susan about how she found her way to this day. Susan affectionately told me of how the Rev. Lee Shafer referred to her as the feral cat that came into the church.

This is not to say that Susan was a stranger to church. Not by a long shot. She was baptized at Christ Episcopal Church in Exeter, New Hampshire about two months after her birth. She stood up for her place in the church at an early age too when the Rector did not understand her wanting to be a shepherd instead of an angel as boys were shepherds and girls were angels. But she was a budding thespian and Susan knew Shepherds get to play fear, which is a way better role. She did prevail and soon after began to acolyte and in a few years was confirmed.

Yet the 18 months that followed Susan’s confirmation were a very difficult time with the tragic deaths of two friends and an aunt and her discovering her sexuality in a time and place where it was not okay. Susan continued to attend church in college and afterward moved to Tallahassee, where she was attracted to St. John’s Episcopal Church and loved a lot about it, but no one spoke to her, invited her to coffee hour, or tried to find out who she was. She did not keep attending. During those years, her work for Florida Public Radio took a turn when she served as a media witness to an execution and she covered capital punishment for years after. And in those years that followed St. John’s Church rejected the LGBTQ community in a quite public way with the clergy walking out of the church during a major principal service. The church of her childhood had come to offer her judgment, not love.

By the time years later, Susan made her way back to St. John’s, much had changed in the church and in Susan. The Rev. Lee Shafer, who served at St. John’s at that time, tells the story this way saying that she,

“was asked to visit the husband of a parishioner who was in a nursing facility with a debilitating and terminal illness. He could barely speak and his body was contorted in an awkward position but he was cognizant and able to communicate, mostly through his family members. The parishioner had told [Lee] of her daughter who had left the church angrily several years before.”

Then one day she walked into the parishioner’s room and found the angry daughter, Susan, and her partner, Isabelle, with him. Lee said,

“I drew in a deep breath expecting to be met with challenge and hostility, but was determined to be open and to not allow myself to become flustered no matter what. The daughter was pleasant but cool and I did my best to be open and welcoming, hoping to be a good representative of the church she so mistrusted.”

That meeting was good. What followed was a surprise to Mama Lee as things progressed more quickly than one might expect. This so often happens as w do not see how the Holy Spirit is already working in someone’s life. Lee told me,

“Several weeks later I saw the daughter in Church. I tried to remain cool, not to have too many expectations.” Lee likened this to building trust with a feral cat, which she had done successfully two times in the past- slowly, quietly, “let her take the lead, let her make the first move, then encourage, affirm, assure.”

She did not know that in the meantime, Susan felt herself not gently nudged to go to St. John’s Episcopal, but all but shoved by what felt like a booming voice in her head saying, “Show up!”

Susan listened to God telling her to go to church. She showed up only to find as she would later say, “I hard every single prayer, reading, and hymn, and the entire package was an unmistakable message: “You are loved. You always have been loved. And I will always love you.”

Here was the clarion call of the God who made her and who loved her just as she was and wanted better for her. “You are loved. You always have been loved. And I will always love you.” A call she has since extended to many others letting persons who not known this before in on the not so secret that God has always loved them.

This fits so well with the prayer for the consecration of a deacon which says in part, “Make her, O Lord, modest and humble, strong and constant, to observe the discipline of Christ. Let her life and teaching so reflect your commandments, that through her many may come to know you and love you. As your Son came not to be served but to serve, may this deacon share in Christ’s service…”

There are so many others who have been wounded by the church and yet wonder about Jesus. They have heard that God loves them, that God is love, and even that as our Presiding Bishop has put it, “If it is not about love, then it’s not about God.” And yet all they have experienced from the Body of Christ that is the church is judgment and shame.

Mother Lee remembers what follows as Susan sending her daily emails (or so it seems in her memory) and these were filled with questions that were running through Susan’s head rapid-fire. She added, “I know she thinks that was burdensome but it was actually one of the most pleasant times in my ministry. It was so nice to spend time talking with someone who was seriously thinking about their faith and questioning aspects of the Church that had not really taken up a lot of space in her life for a while… Susan moved from being a feral cat that I wanted to coax back to the church to a becoming much trusted friend. I know she will be a gift to the Church and will sometimes challenge us to stretch ourselves to become the folks Jesus wants us to be.”

The truth is it would not all be so smooth. Susan’s renewed and unwavering faith in Jesus has puzzled some of her friends as Susan now goes into places that are very wary of Christians.

As Susan told me as we talked about today, she sees the needs of those who are lost and left out as so large, so immense, which is why she selected our reading from Acts today. This passage comes in the midst of a fight in the early days of the Jesus Movement. Some of the Greek speaking members of the church were upset at those who had grown up Jewish. The Acts of the Apostles puts it like this:

“Now during those days, when the disciples were increasing in number, the Hellenists complained against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution of food.”

Everyone agreed that the church needed to tend to this thorny problem, which was choking the growth of the early Christian community. The Sacred Order of Deacons, then, was created to tend to an issue in the church so that the apostles could focus on their particular ministry of sharing the Good News of God’s love in preaching and teaching. This bore tremendous fruit for the Gospel.

The apostles found a solution in which seven members of that early Christian community were put forward for the laying on of hands to become the first deacons. The Acts of the Apostles records, “The word of God continued to spread, the number of disciples increased greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many priests became obedient to the faith.” The apostles tended to the problems in the church prayerfully and appropriately. Growth followed. The early Christians discovered the need for people whose focus is taking care of those in need.

Deacons are not to do all the work of servant ministry. Deacons are to serve as icons of servant ministry, examples to others. Where deacons thrive, we find the fruit of that ministry is that many parishioners in that congregation are called to more fully living into their own baptismal vows in caring for others as deacons both tend to the lost and the left out and call others into that ministry as well.

Susan is what we sometimes call a transitional deacon as she will likely serve barely more than six months in this order of ministry. This ordination is a challenge to Susan to find ways during this transitional period to fully live into being a deacon in word and deed and not in title only. This fits well with Susan’s own call as she has experienced the Holy Spirit not nudging her, but all but shoving her to “just go and be with the people who are in pain and in need.”

As we come to know Jesus in the Gospels, he is much more interested in those wounded by religious leaders than in those who are all holier than thou. Jesus clearly wanted to connect with those who were hurt and yet still longed to know God and to be known by God. The man living among the tombs plagued by a legion of demons, the Samaritan woman who went to the well in the middle of the day and so many others who knew too well the judgment of religion, but had yet to experience love and grace, these were the ones Jesus ministered to the most. Like feral cats who want to find a home, but fear what they have seen of humans, those injured by the church long for Jesus, but fear what they may face from his followers and those who lead them.

And this is where we should be delighted to discover the joy of sharing God’s love is not something reserved for deacons, priests, and bishops. No, the Body of Christ as a whole, all of us, are supposed to share that same love with others, loving everyone and letting God sort out the rest.

We are not ordaining Susan to share the love of God so we don’t have to do so. We are ordaining her for a role in the church that will have her serving those most in need and calling the rest of us to join her in the effort.

We all know the love of Jesus, the Good Shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep to go after the one that is lost. In our own families, in our workplaces, and among our friends, you and I are already deployed where God needs us to be there for people we already know to play the role that Mother Lee Shafer played in Susan’s life of being the sounding board for that feral cat stage of trying to trust God and God’s church. And in this effort, the real work is that of the Holy Spirit. I see this in how the Spirit was acting in Susan’s life to draw her back in to the Body of Christ. I have experienced this in my own life. And I have seen it in others who God has put in my path, where the Holy Spirit is already with them. We just have to be a part of affirming that message is real: You are loved. You always have been loved. And God will always love you.

It is the Good News that so many people need to hear. So let us not delay any longer, but affirm our faith together and then pray for God to make Susan a deacon, knowing that the Spirit will use her and us to reach those who need that grace, mercy, and love.

Amen.

Moving to Phase 2

May 19, 2021

Dear Clergy and Senior Wardens of the Diocese of Georgia,

As promised in my letter to you all last Friday, I am following up further on the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) stating last week that, “fully vaccinated people no longer need to wear a mask or physically distance in any setting” and then adding some caveats. After months of following CDC recommendations, I know it looked as if I was suddenly ignoring them. The difference was that, unlike when they announced previous changes, the CDC failed to update their page with considerations for Communities of Faith last week and have yet to do so. That particular web page, together with significant input from top level experts made available to us through the Episcopal Church’s House of Bishops, had been guiding our actions. I am now offering an option for Clergy and Vestries who discern that conditions in their area and in their congregation allow them to move to Phase Two Guidance. You may remain in Phase 1 indefinitely given the discernment of your vestry.

As you will see, the Phase Two option takes into account the varying contexts of our congregations. A parish with 18 people on a Sunday who all know each other well can take their congregation into account and find a way forward that may differ from that of a larger parish. Rectors or Priests-in-Charge, their wardens, and vestries will make their decision together based on the diocesan guidance, their own congregation, and its context. Once these decisions have been made, the Diocese must be informed of the congregation’s plans, using the attached Phase 2 Certification Form. Vestry votes may be collected in person or via electronic means. All of this is in keeping with the way we moved back to in-person worship last summer.

Please note that some communities in the diocese may still have mask mandates in effect and congregations in those areas must follow the law in those instances. As the context changes, more congregations can decide to move to the new guidance. The changes can be made as soon as is best for your congregation.

With these changes, we are moving toward those who are vaccinated being encouraged, but not required, to practice masking and distancing. I remain concerned that by requiring only the unvaccinated to wear masks, we single them out for decisions over which they may not have control, or we inadvertently encourage them to ‘fit in’ by not wearing a mask even though they remain unvaccinated, thereby increasing risk for everyone. I am also concerned about teens and children who are not yet fully vaccinated or can’t be, as well as for newcomers who visit our churches.

Pax et bonum,

+Frank

The Rt. Rev. Frank Logue | Bishop of Georgia
Episcopal Diocese of Georgia

Phase 2 documents: 
May 19, 2021 Guidance for Phase 2
Vestry Certification for Phase 2

An Advent Message

Lighting a candle in the darkness is a powerful symbol of hope. The strength of even a single candle to dispel darkness is something I learned memorably as a Boy Scout. I went caving with my troop on a handful of trips. Gathered in a room in a cave with our headlamps combining to bounce lights off the stalactites hanging from the ceiling and stalagmites slowly rising up from the cave floor, we would turn off all our lights at once and sit in silence in the darkness that seemed denser in a cavern under the earth. Not the tiniest glimmer could leak in.

The first time we did this when I twelve, I found the feeling of an abyss frightening. Surrounded by friends, I felt so completely alone. Then a leader struck a match to light a candle. That was enough. Our eyes could adjust to see so much by that one point of light.

This week, more than a billion Christians will mark the First Sunday of Advent. From the Latin word Adventus, meaning “coming,” advent is marked in the four weeks leading to Christmas. It is a time to remember that Jesus promised to come again. We look toward that Second Coming even as we prepare to celebrate his first advent in Bethlehem. Lighting a candle in an advent wreath is a way some churches mark this season, with an additional candle lit each week. A brief advent wreath service in the home is a way individuals and families can also keep this season. The hope held out by even a single flame is so needed in this year of pandemic.

Some years ago, my wife, Victoria, and I experienced worshipping in the midst of a storm in a way that revealed something important to me about the hope of this season. A storm blackened the sky as we drove to church for Sunday evening worship. As the service progressed, rain loudly pelted the metal roof of the old church. At one point, thunder boomed and the power went out. Candles already lit, worship continued without pause.

As we approached the breaking of the bread in Communion, the bulletin noted “Worshippers are invited to hold hands during the Lord’s Prayer.” To my left, I reached for Victoria’s hand as I have done for more than three decades. At the altar and in the emergency room, and in a great variety of situations, we have held one another’s hands. Then I reached back and a woman I could not see readily took my hand as I reached back. Jesus’ words recited in prayer, the woman behind me squeezed my hand and then let it go. It was the smallest of touches, but her squeeze felt meaningful, important. The touch we shared as the storm beat against the church made communion all the more real.

Quite coincidentally, the next day we watched the movie Toy Story 3. In the animated film there is a scene where the toys we have come to love in the previous two films face what appears to be certain destruction. They are traveling down a conveyor belt toward a furnace. Despite bold attempts at saving themselves, no further options remain.

Facing this moment of certain annihilation with no hope of rescue no words are exchanged, however, a look a “what now” passes across the faces of the toys. Then one reaches to hold another’s hand. One by one they reach out to hold another’s hand. In that moment of holding one another’s hands in the face of uncertainty, relief comes in. Not that rescue seems more likely, but the toys know that whatever they face, they will face it together. Hope is restored like a light shining in the darkness.

When the toys reached out to hold hands, showing their love for one another in a time of great uncertainty, I remembered powerfully the feeling of holding hands in church the evening before. I knew then what the creators of Toy Story 3 showed so clearly in animating the facial expressions of the toys, when the moment of “now what” comes, the hope is in not having to face the unknown alone. Togetherness changes nothing in the problem before us and yet in bearing one another’s burdens everything is different.

We all share a longing, a need for hope. We need the word we find in John’s Gospel, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). As we journey toward Christmas, lighting candles to mark the season, the hope we see in that light dispelling darkness is that whatever we face, we do not face it alone. This is true as the God who made us and loves us is with us. And as we light candles to mark the season, we can also make calls to check in on those who are cut off because of the pandemic, to offer a hand and to share that hope. Even as we light candles, we can be that glimmer of hope for others.

Simply Following Jesus

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue, Bishop of Georgia, gave this sermon for an online worship service from St. Francis of the Islands Episcopal Church on Wilmington Island, Georgia, on October 4, 2020.

Simply following Jesus
Matthew 11:25–30

Simply following Jesus. This is what transformed the life of Francis of Assisi. Simply following Jesus. And once the Holy Spirit got a hold of Francis, he went out and changed the world.

I want to share how you and I can find a more peace in the week and months ahead and in this, we have the able guide of Francis. Today is the church’s Feast Day of St. Francis of Assisi and through his life, we find the way to the peace Jesus offers in today’s Gospel reading, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” First, I want to share something of the life of Francis who rose to Kardashian-level fame in his own lifetime. Okay, maybe Mother Teresa levels of respect.

Francis had been born to a life of privilege in a new Italian middle class that was coming into its own. This was a new upward mobility unknown to previous generations. Italy in the 1200s, like much of the world at that time, was divided into the nobility and the rest. The nobles were the majors, mayores, in Italian and everyone else was minores, minor. Francis’ father, Pietro de Bernadone, was a wealthy textile merchant who had moved his family from the minors to the majors. He wanted his son to take his place among the best and brightest of Assisi.

As a boy Francis had dreamed of earning glory in battle. He enlisted, along with the other young men of Assisi to fight in a feud against Perugia, a neighboring town in the Umbrian hills. In his first battle, Francis was captured and made prisoner of war. He became gravely ill while he waited for his eventual release. Defeat in battle and illness in prison caused Francis to turn away from his visions of glory.

Francis would go through a series of experiences that led to a deeper and deeper conversion of life. Rejecting the paths before him in battle and in commerce, Francis was led to simply follow Jesus. The way he set the course for the movement he would start is kind of funny from today’s perspective. Francis went into Church of Saint Nicholas in Assisi with his friend Bernard and the two opened a Gospel book three times, trusting that when the opened the pages and Francis put his finger on a random text, that the text under his finger would be a sign from God of how they should live.

This trust in God is why we read in our Gospel for today, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants.”

Francis and Bernard had a child-like faith as they entered St. Nicholas Church. The Holy Spirit guided them to Matthew 19:21, which told them to “sell all that you have and give to the poor”; then to Luke 9:3, which said to “take nothing on the journey”; and then finally to Matthew 16:24, which said, “Follow me.”

Those three passages led to a life of simplicity focused on the poor. And the example of first Francis and Bernard and then others dropping out of the up and coming set to simply follow Jesus was compelling. More and more young men joined the movement. In time, Francis founded a religious order and he gave it the name the Order of Friars Minor. Intentionally rejecting the mayores, the majors, Francis identified with the commoner, the lost and the left out, and he wanted for himself and those around him, a minor life, grounded in humility and trusting God.

With all this in mind, I want to turn back to Jesus words in our Gospel reading, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

2020 is a weary year. Every load is heavier. Everything is more difficult.

Past those comforting words, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” we read, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart.”

In preaching on this passage, the great Christian bishop and writer Augustine of Hippo said, “You are not learning from me how to refashion the fabric of the world, nor to create all things visible and invisible, nor to work miracles and raise the dead. Rather, you are simply learning of me: ‘that I am meek and lowly in heart.’”

Augustine would go on to give the example of building a great building begins with the foundation. He said, “The taller the building is to be, the deeper you will dig the foundation.” Augustine was pointing to those words, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart.”

A yoke is how one puts two animals together to pull a wagon or plow. Wise animal husbandry has long shown that yoking the experienced ox with a younger one will teach the young ox how to plow while the older one bears most of the weight. Jesus offers to be right beside you, shouldering your burdens so you don’t bear them alone. The way this happens is humility. Humility is not a lack of self-esteem or beating yourself up. Humility is a right view of yourself.

Being humble means acknowledging that God is God and you are not. As Augustine put it, “I am not in charged with refashioning the fabric of the world.” This connection between humility and finding peace is not a connection made just in this one verse of scripture.

For example, in the First Letter of Peter we read, “All of you must clothe yourselves with humility in your dealings with one another, for ‘God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.’ Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, for he cares for you.”

First clothe yourselves in humility and then cast your anxiety on Jesus, for he cares for you. This is how you let Jesus shoulder your burdens. Here is what it looks like in the week ahead for all who are weary:

Humble yourself enough to admit that you don’t have all the answers. You are not a beauty pageant contestant longing for world peace. You can’t control world events or make any of the biggest concerns go away by stewing over them. Why spend the night tossing, turning, and worrying? God is going to be awake anyway. Offer your weariness, your burdens, your anxieties, your fears to God in prayer. Pray for God’s will rather than your will. And then go to sleep. If you can do this an amazing thing will happen.

At a practical level, neuroscience reveals what God knew all along, that when you get weary and anxious, you move from thinking clearly to working out of the lowest level of your brain where fight or flight are the only options. There is nothing wrong with that response in the right circumstances. After we finished building the church building at King of Peace, when I was starting that congregation, I was pulling up the erosion control fence alongside the building. In reaching around the back side of the fencing to grab a stake, I exposed a cottonmouth moccasin who coiled back when its own primitive brain kicked in. This is one of those occasions when my body decided for flight rather than fight. It didn’t take me long to look at that snake. I jumped back, practically levitating, with my heart racing. The snake slithered away. The adrenaline that flooded my system kept me anxious after the threat had long passed. But that was just my God-given alert system keeping me ready in case of a renewed threat.

That anxious response is a gift in the right circumstances. But as a day to day way of living, being on high alert is not healthy. And when all of us go around bumping into one another as we navigate the pandemic, that sort of anxious way of dealing with life is bringing more hurt than healing. The deep wisdom already in scripture is what happens when you opt for humility. God is God and you and I are not. Thanks be to God!

Francis dug a deep foundation of humility and God did something marvelous with it.

Jesus said, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” If you need that rest this week, just know that Jesus is already yoked with you, ready to pull the load, but you have got to let go of solving the world’s problems and even the difficulties you face at home and school and work. Turn off the TV. Stop doom scrolling the news on your computer. Stay away from Social Media. Let God be God. You get that at this point, I am preaching to myself, right? But I suspect we all need to hear this.

The point is simply that a right view of yourself helps you put our trust in God rather than in your own power or intellect. Like Francis of Assisi and all those who have simply followed Jesus, you need to know that the maker of heaven and earth knows you, loves you, and wants you to stop feeding your anxiety. If you can do this, you will find that God is faithful and will lighten your burdens and give you rest.

Amen.

A Pastoral Letter

October 4, 2020 – The Feast of St. Francis Assisi

 “You do well if you really fulfil the royal law according to the scripture,
‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”
– James 2:8

Dear Followers of Jesus,

In less than a month, we will have all cast our votes for the next President of the United States. I write to call upon you to pray, to vote, and to show your love of God as found in Jesus Christ, through your words and actions, as you love your neighbor as yourselves. In these ways, we demonstrate our essential trust in the Holy Spirit as we take part in the political process.

I have heard that the soul of our nation is at stake in this presidential election. I have heard that sentiment from across the entire political spectrum, from liberals to conservatives and everyone in between. I do believe that this election is momentous because the tensions that have accrued in this unusual year may tempt us to lose sight of the mark set by Jesus to love God and love our neighbors as we love ourselves. Everything, as Jesus clearly told us, hangs on these two commandments.

This month I ask you join me in praying, voting, and loving:

Pray
Daily prayer always matters as we offer those needs in our hearts and minds. The Apostle Paul writes in Romans that even when we do not know how to pray, the “Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.” Forward Movement will offer a Novena, an ancient practice of nine successive days of prayer, in the week before through the day after the election. You can sign up for A Season of Prayer: For an Election online here. Whether you opt for praying the prayers offered by this Episcopal Church ministry of discipleship and evangelism or not, I hope you will join me in praying daily as we approach the election and in the days following.

Vote
As we pray faithfully for God’s will, we are also called to act. We have a duty to our country to cast our ballots as our faith and prayers lead us to vote.

Love
I so value that each of our congregations have people who disagree strongly on politics yet enjoy gathering together to worship and serve God. Even though we can’t kneel alongside others at the altar rail right now, I know that those same connections remain strong. Following Jesus isn’t easy. Even as we hold strong convictions, we must do so without demonizing those who disagree with us. Our words and actions toward those whose political choices are opposed to ours, reveals our love of God and neighbor and is our witness to the world.

Holding an election in a pandemic means we will also need to have patience as we await the results, continuing to pray as we wait. 

No matter which candidate is elected, we must not lose sight of love, even if we were to gain the whole world, we could lose our own souls. Each of the candidates is a flawed human being who will fall short of the glory of God, as do we all. Neither candidate will bring about the Kingdom of God on earth. But if we respond to the neighbor whom we know with anger or hatred for their differing political views – or for any reason – we are unfaithful to Jesus’ call to love even our enemies. And it is that steadfast love that bears witness to Jesus and carries on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world – the responsibility of every Christian.

No matter who is elected, scripture calls us to pray faithfully for that person once in office. Knowing the weight of responsibility a President of the United States bears, everyone who serves in that role needs our steady prayers. And no election ends our call to remain active citizens, writing to those who represent us to advocate on behalf of causes our faith enlivens us to support. For no matter what happens, we know that long after we have voted, we will still need to pray and to love and so follow the way of Jesus.

Pax et Bonum,

+Frank

The Rt. Rev. Frank S. Logue
Bishop of Georgia

Click the link below for a PDF file of this letter:
A Pastoral Letter – The Election

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