November 24th, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Micah 6:6-8
With what shall I come before the LORD, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of the body for the sin of my soul? He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Pastor Christy was out ill this week, and her sermon was read by our Lay Leader, Heidi Jeldres. If you’ve visited Pastor Christy’s parsonage, you’ll notice that she loves house plants. She’s got several basking in the windows, spread on the dining room table, spilling out from bookcases, and even hanging air plants in glass globes. This used not to be the case: whether it was something like a spider plant or a different, more hearty plant like a succulent or orchid, they would inevitably fail under her care. Whether she watered them or let them dry out, moved them into the light or back into the center of the house, they’d never do well, and a few weeks after the plants’ adoption, they’d be dumped into the backyard to compost. But upon moving into the parsonage, she recognized that the light was perfect for plants - there is so much light in that house, and it feels so airy and open. And so she tried again, this time with much better results. The plants didn’t just survive - they thrived. And she’s since been gifted with greenery that she hopes will last through the long cold months of winter into the newness of spring. Last week, we were asked to reflect upon our hopes and vision for George Whitefield United Methodist Church, and many of you stated that you’d love to see a growth in membership, that we would welcome all people into our ministry, that we’d be able to survive as a church. But what would it mean to focus on thriving rather than just surviving? What would happen if we saw the ministry of our church through the lens of abundance instead of scarcity? Over the past several weeks, we’ve been naming what we find to be most precious about our church - what we love the most, the people who have made a difference in our spiritual lives, and our hopes for the future. And there is power in the naming of these blessings; when we name what we’re thankful for, those things suddenly become more visible to us, and we’re able to respond in gratitude to all that we’ve been given. This morning’s scripture reading talks about responding to blessings through different offerings to God - whether it’s burnt offerings, livestock, oil, or even our firstborn in dedication - but ends with a surprising conclusion: we are called to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with God. This is the offering we can bring to the altar of God. And it matters much more how we bring forth our offerings as opposed to what or how much we bring. God would much rather us bring our whole selves to the ministry set before us. When we approach the ministry of George Whitefield from a place of abundance, we’re able to name the blessings set before us - of our loving community, our beautiful building, the town of West Brookfield and beyond. We’re able to see the ways in which the seeds we’ve cultivated have come to fruition, for our twenty years of sending gifts through Operation Christmas Child, of our nearly 90 pounds of food and goods we’ve donated to the Sharing Cupboard in just a few short months, for the ways in which our prayer squares send blessings upon blessings without geographic limits. We are doing amazing ministry at George Whitefield, and we have the opportunity to thrive here and now and well into the future. As we close out our stewardship season, we are called to reflect upon our blessings and respond in gratitude, and one of the most amazing things about this time is that we recognize that it’s a gift to give. Whether we’re able to give financially, or through our time, talents, or prayers, your gift is not only a blessing to us but to you as well. By giving, our church is forever changed, and so are we on a personal level. The act of giving is a spiritual discipline that our founder, John Wesley, found to be particularly powerful. For Wesley, giving is an act full of grace that reminds us that we are “rooted in … an emptying of oneself for others, an expression of love of God and neighbor.” (Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, 112) In our generosity, not only will we be able to name the blessings in which we’re already partaking, but we’ll also be able to witness the ways we can thrive rather than just survive. Earlier this morning, we sang that Jesus’ reign “shall know no end, and round his pierced feet fair flowers of paradise extend their fragrance ever sweet.” (Crown Him With Many Crowns) We are able to be a part of that vision, and we are invited to respond. During our final hymn this morning, we invite you to come forward as you are led to drop your pledge card into the offering plate on the altar. Know that your gift, whether financial, or through your time, talent, and prayer, is a precious gift from God, and we are so excited to see the ways in which God will use us all in the ministry of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. And now, may we be witness to the abundance that surrounds us each day, knowing that every good gift comes from God. May we respond to the call to extravagant generosity through the stewardship of our gifts, and may we partner in creating an environment that nurtures the thriving of our faith for the sake of the entire world. Through Christ our Lord, who taught us to bring our whole selves to the altar: to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God. Amen. - Pastor Christy Wright
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November 17th, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Isaiah 65:17-19, 23-25
For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in that which I create; for behold, I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy. I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and be glad in my people; no more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping and the cry of distress. They shall not labor in vain or bear children for calamity; for they shall be the offspring of the blessed of the LORD, and their children with them. Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear. The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; and dust shall be the serpent's food. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain. When I first started seminary, I didn’t realize just how much of a risk I was taking - I would be moving into a brand new town, taking on even more student loans, and stepping into the unknown. As an introvert, the whole thing was very overwhelming as I attended classes with people I had never met. These were folks from all over the country and world who had incredibly different and diverse backgrounds from myself. They were people who were younger - one of my friends was only 19 when she started graduate school with us - and others were on second and third professional careers, having received their call to ministry later in life. Some of my classmates were parents, some were grandparents, some were divorced, and others were newly married. Others had spoken English, and only English, for their entire lives, while others were multilingual, speaking in their native tongue among a handful of other languages. Among my classmates, there were some that emerged to be my closest and best friends. You see, seminary is not an easy feat. It’s unlike any other graduate school experience; you’re confronted with your deepest doubts, fears, and insecurities at every step of the way because seminary asks you to explore the Bible and the Church in ways we’ve never done before. And often times, my classmates and I would debrief after a particularly difficult class by grabbing a beer at the pub right across the street, going dancing, cooking for one another. The strangers that I met in those classrooms would become my biggest advocates, and they’d know that I’d have their back no matter what. Once we graduated seminary, many of us went our separate ways and risked everything to start a new life, called to ministry in different parts of the country and world: a good friend enlisted as a Navy Chaplain and is currently serving in Japan. Another is in California, having finished up her stint as a hospital chaplain and who is now exploring food ministry with her local church. One is in Arkansas working with college students in spiritual guidance as they discern their vocational callings in ministry. Another is in Tennessee writing a book on working through conflict toward healthy relationships. And still another is in New York pastoring two churches of his own. For three or four short years, all of us came together at school and made soul connections with one another, only to be called out in various places in the world to serve God in our own ways. And yet, when we see each other, when we’re all in the same place, this is a vision of heaven - old friends being reunited, making our favorite meals, catching up on each other’s lives. Strangers in a new town becoming friends in the classroom becoming soul siblings at a distance, longing of being reunited. This is a vision of heaven. This morning’s scripture reading comes to us from Isaiah during a time of dreaming, of envisioning a new heaven and a new earth. This gorgeous description of peace among all of creation, of no more weeping, of being blessed with children does not come without risk. Toward the end of the passage, we hear of the wolf and the lamb eating together, at the same time - and there is peace, even though this could be a potentially volatile situation. We have a vision of heaven set before us in the scripture, and some of us may have experienced glimpses of heaven here on earth. Maybe it’s those times when we’re with our spouse watching the sunrise. Maybe it’s those times when our family gets together for Thanksgiving, and all we can do is just sit back in gratitude and witness all that God has given us. Maybe it’s the birth of our child. We see glimpses of heaven all around us. But here’s the reality: in each of those cases, we’ve had to risk something in order to see heaven on earth. We’ve had to risk a broken heart in our romantic relationships, we’ve had to risk the possibility of family disfunction, we’ve had to risk our own wellbeing for the good of someone else. Sometimes we have to break all the rules of conventional wisdom, sometimes we have to risk it all to witness heaven pouring forth. Sometimes the wolves dine with the lambs, and it’s a risk. But it’s a beautiful vision. We’re told that Jesus risked it all, even to the point of death because he, too, had a vision of heaven. He sought to overturn all injustice, poverty, sickness, and pain - and he died as a witness to the system of oppression and the vision of heaven that would come. He risked it all, and his resurrection brought new life. As the Body of Christ, we are called to continue on Jesus’ path of “bringing good news to the poor, of proclaiming release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, of letting the oppressed go free.” (Isaiah 61). But to do so requires risk. Here at George Whitefield, we already do so much that brings forth a vision of heaven in our community and beyond: our prayer squares have made a difference locally and across the country and world; our Operation Christmas Child gifts brighten children’s lives; our donations to the Sharing Cupboard make life a little easier for folks who need a little extra help. We are here to celebrate the love we have shared already and to discern the ways in which God is continuing to call us to mission and ministry, toward a vision of heaven where all belong. But often times, it can be difficult to know if what we give truly makes a difference. One commentary puts it this way: “Much of our hardest work may have little visible impact or may seem to end in utter failure. … [But] Christ’s ministry requires our willingness to risk failure.” (Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, 88-89) This has never been more true, for me, than in youth ministry; in previous churches where I’ve worked, one day the kids won’t be listening or would be goofing off, and I have to wonder if it’s even worth the time; and in the next moment they’d offer a profoundly bracing insight on faith that seemed to come out of nowhere. The reality is that we have limited human vision, but God sees what’s going on under the surface, and we may never know the impact of the seeds we plant and which ones will grow. Using God’s vision instead of our own will help us to witness the possibilities of heaven on earth here at George Whitefield and beyond. And we use Jesus’ ministry as an example for that life, and for the ways in which we can engage with our community. One commentary states that “Jesus’ radical inclusivity, his model of proclaiming power through nonviolent action, and his ministry of presence reveal an unexpected model. ... Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection provide a new set of lenses for the world to engage in the new creation, not as a goal to be looked for off in the distance, but one to be realized here and now.” (Feasting on the Word, 290) You see, when we pray the Lord’s prayer, we’re literally asking for Heaven to pour forth: Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. We can’t just gloss over that phrase without taking it seriously, because, to quote a wonderful scholar, “the church’s job is not to cloister itself proclaiming the resurrection just in the everlasting. The proclamation is for the resurrection of life in this world as well.” (ibid, 292) And we can’t just cloister that blessing for ourselves within the church. The blessing is fully communal, for all of creation - it is not merely individual, but concerns everyone and everything. One of my favorite professors at Boston University says that shalom, that wonderful Jewish understanding of peace, is incomplete without justice. Peace and justice go hand-in-hand, and along with justice, comes risk. (Dr. Bryan Stone) So what is your vision of Heaven? How can George Whitefield United Methodist Church participate in the world that is to come by bringing it forth today? What can we risk for the sake of the Kingdom? What are your hopes and visions for our church and beyond? During the final hymn, I invite you to come forward as you feel called and clip your response to the clothesline along the altar rail. There are extra cards up front for you to fill out if you didn’t receive a card and would like to participate. And as we discern the future for our church, may we recognize the ways in which God has blessed us with glimpses of heaven. May we be reminded of the risks that are necessary for such blessings, and may we remember the Christ that risked it all for the sake of all, so that all may have a taste of the new heaven and the new earth. - Pastor Christy Wright
November 10, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Matthew 4:18-22
As Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon who is called Peter and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." Immediately they left their nets and followed him. And going on from there he saw two other brothers, James the son of Zeb'edee and John his brother, in the boat with Zebe'edee their father, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him. I have several friends in the restaurant industry who have a long string of employers from fast-casual places like Applebees and Panera Bread to artisinal, pop-up restaurants and highly rated bed and breakfast cafes. Most of my friends started out as line cooks, either at the fry station or on the grill. In the industry, such work is often called “turn and burn,” which is in reference to getting the food out to the table as quickly as possible and turning the table over to new customers with equal efficiency. My friends would cook set recipes with absolutely no variation - each plate of fettuccine alfredo had to be exactly the same; consistency was key. But as my friends grew in experience and talent, they received opportunities to work in fine dining restaurants known for their seasonal menus that would change in accordance to what was locally available and fresh, and the executive chef would be able to work one-on-one with my friends, teaching them new techniques and allowing for more experimentation and creativity, even getting some of their own dishes on the menu. My friends often found so much more life and passion in these situations, circumstances where there was no wrong answer and failure was simply part of the process - the amount of learning that comes from failing is unparalleled. And to be a cook in this sort of environment, not only do you have to be unafraid to fail, but you also have to be all in, fully engaged and willing to give it all you’ve got. You truly need to be entirely present, and you make sacrifices for the work, but the rewards are great. In a lot of ways, the faith journey shares a lot of characteristics of the restaurant industry: sometimes we find ourselves in “turn and burn” mode, simply going through the motions in order to make it through the day. It’s not our fault: it’s just where we find ourselves in certain seasons of our lives. And at other times, we are more fully engaged because we’re passionate about the people we’re serving, and ministry takes on a new and exciting reality where we can encounter the living Christ in our midst. And we are all in. This morning’s scripture reading tells us about how the disciples encountered the living Christ in their midst and the ways in which they responded. To give you a bit of background on this scripture story, it should be noted that during the first century, most Jewish boys participated in Jewish education. It was common for boys and teenagers to be educated by a local Rabbi and to continue on the path of faith formation with the eventual goal of becoming Rabbis themselves. If the young men didn’t prove to have the skillset to become a Rabbi, they were set on a different path and would often take jobs as lower class citizens. This is where we find ourselves in today’s scripture. Simon Peter and Andrew, as well as James and John, were working on their boats, which means that none of them were found worthy to be Rabbis; they simply didn’t have what it took. Instead, they were relegated to being fishermen, mending nets and hauling heavy loads of fish from the waters to the market to make a meager living. It was tough manual labor, something that very few young Jewish boys would dream to do when they grew up. But it was all they had, and they had to make a living. Perhaps Simon Peter, Andrew, James, and John, found themselves in a “turn and burn” situation, simply going through the motions of knowing what they needed to do in order to survive. But Jesus doesn’t intend for us to simply survive. Jesus wants us to thrive. And as he encounters these men, he calls out to them, which is unusual inofitself; a Jewish Rabbi, calling out to the fishermen, to the people who were supposed to be a far lower social class than himself? But we should know by now that Jesus ends up breaking all the rules anyway - we should expect something like this from him. Jesus calls out to them to drop their nets and follow him. Drop their nets? You mean leave their jobs? Forfeit their way of making a living? Leave behind their boats, all of their investments in the fishing industry? This is all that they have, because they didn’t have what it took to be a Rabbi. And Jesus was asking them to leave it all behind? The scripture tells us that they dropped their nets and immediately followed Jesus. They left everything where it was; they didn’t pause to figure out what to do with their equipment or boats. They didn’t make a plan to sign off ownership of the fishing business to anyone else. They didn’t protect their investments or withdraw their 401Ks. They left everything, and started following this strange Rabbi who accepted them into the faith when no one else would. They followed Jesus, the man who communicated they were worthy, when no one else thought they were. The scripture also tells us that the second set of brothers, James and John, also left their father, Zebedee. They left their families, their homes, their income - they were all in. You see, the disciples had lived the “turn and burn” life, of getting to work at 4 in the morning, of hauling nets until the sun set, of working markets to try to sell enough fish to keep their finances afloat. They were flat out, simply going through the motions of what it means to be a working man in a difficult economy. And then Jesus comes to them and shows them a new way, a different way, a creative and passionate way of life that leads to life eternal. We know how the story goes: when the disciples dropped their nets, they picked up a new life on the road, of encountering Jesus’ power to heal, of hearing Jesus’ blessing on the poor, of learning scripture in fields and on lakes. This journey is unpredictable and wild, profound and life-changing. It’s as if Jesus says, “hold onto your seats!” and bids us to come, all in. I know the feeling of going through the motions, not really learning anything new. In those seasons, it all felt so stale, and I just wasn’t engaged. It’s not something that we can avoid - we all sometimes go through times like these. But here’s the good news: Jesus is always waiting with his hand outstretched, calling us to passionate worship and intentional faith development, and we have a community of other disciples who will walk with us through the journey. See, what happens is that a congregation, a community of faith, surrounds us when we doubt, and they sing for us when we don’t have the strength. They pray for us when we don’t feel like we believe anymore. They are all in for us when we aren’t, when we can’t seem to muster up the motivation. And in the presence of other passionate disciples of Jesus Christ, we begin to feel the transfer of that joy into our own lives, the spread of love and the fruits of the Spirit. When we’re all in, we eagerly desire to spend time with one another and in the Scripture, reading and studying more, soaking it all up like a sponge. We are engaged to the point of nurturing creative ministries, bringing our whole selves to the table in authentic and genuine relationships, relationships that transform our lives and the lives of those we encounter. Last week I announced that I’m starting a second job teaching children in an after school program, and I recognize that there was some concern about my time and commitment to you as a church. Even though both of my positions with the church and the school are part-time, I can assure you that, when it comes to George Whitefield United Methodist Church, I am all in. I was appointed here by our bishop as a half-time pastor, but I am fully present in walking with you, praying with you, singing with you, and leading you. As we read in the New Testament, the Apostle Paul was in a similar role, pastoring congregations and traveling for the sake of the Gospel. But he also had to make a living - the Apostle Paul was a tentmaker, and though he split his time between ministry and other work, he was all in for the sake of the Gospel. And so am I. One of the things that I love about you as a congregation is the amount of love you have for one another and this community. Last week, many of you identified the church family as being the thing you love most about George Whitefield United Methodist Church, and this week, we’re asking you to reflect upon those authentic and genuine relationships that have transformed your lives. Who at George Whitefield has influenced your faith? Who would you consider a mentor and friend, someone who was present for you in your questions and doubts? Who in our church family has made a difference in your spiritual life? During our last hymn, I invite you to come forward as you feel led to clip your response card to the clothesline along the altar rail. If you didn’t receive a response card and would like to participate, there are some at the altar for you to fill out. As we close this morning, it is my prayer that we recognize the ways that Jesus calls us to drop our nets and follow him. May we see that our “turn and burn” life can be transformed into a passionate expression of faith. And may we and all those we encounter be blessed by the Christ who asks us to be all in. - Pastor Christy Wright
November 3, 2019 - Download a Worship Bulletin Above Luke 19:1-10
He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A mean was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner." Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much." Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the son of man came to seek out and to save the lost." It is an honor and privilege to be invited into someone’s home and life, especially when you’re new in town. After only being in West Brookfield for four weeks, I received a call from Varnum Funeral Home asking if I would preside over Kenneth Frazier’s funeral service. As I met with the family for the first time, I was overcome with humility - they had immediately invited me into their lives and entrusted me with sharing Ken’s stories and memory. And I couldn’t help but feel unqualified, that my words would be inadequate to communicate all that Ken was to his family and community. I had never met him, and the family didn’t know me from Adam. And, yet, they invited me in. Today’s scripture passage tells us of a similar story in which Zacchaeus, someone seemingly unqualified to host Jesus in his home, was the recipient of grace, grace that surpassed understanding. We’re told that Jesus entered Jericho, but that his plan was only to pass through - he had an itinerary, and he was just making a pitstop in town. But Jesus’ plans were derailed as he encountered crowds of people, just wanting to catch a glimpse of the man people said could perform miracles, heal the sick, give sight to the blind, and befriend the outcasts. One man in the crowd, we’re told, is Zacchaeus - a short man who had trouble seeing over the crowds. While it sounds like it was merely a lack of height that caused Zacchaeus problems, some scholars suggest that it was actually Zacchaeus’ occupation that gave him the most trouble. You see, people knew Zacchaeus. People whispered about him and shot him the most evil looks, for he was the chief tax collector. He wasn’t just the guy who came to your door with a bill; he was the guy who lined his pockets with your hard-earned money and made sure you paid up - or there would be consequences. People saw him as the most corrupt politician in the land, and his connection to the bigwigs in Rome got under the townspeoples’ skin. In this story, the crowd was here to see Jesus, but I could imagine that the crowds heckled Zacchaeus and perhaps even spat at his feet. But Zacchaeus was compelled by something else: he wasn’t here to collect, as the people suspected. He was here to witness the man everyone said was the Son of God - the one who had more wealth than Rome, but in the form of eternal life. As the crowds pressed in, Zacchaeus broke free and ran up a tree so he could spot Jesus. He was so focused on his mission of laying eyes on this miraculous man that nothing else mattered, not even the sneers and jeers the crowd directed at him. And though Zacchaeus’ goal was simply to see the man everyone was talking about, it was Jesus who saw Zacchaeus. Jesus saw the man whose only post was up in a tree. He saw the man’s corruption and he saw the man’s eagerness to understand eternal life. Jesus saw Zacchaeus’ greed and he saw his sacred worth. In a radical move that defied all social norms, Jesus’ hospitality reached out to the outcast and outweighed Zacchaeus’ reputation. Jesus looked into his eyes, and in an act of generous hospitality, invited Zacchaeus down from the tree to stand with him: an honor and a privilege. But it doesn’t end there: Jesus opened up a possibility for fellowship that was not an option. A Jewish Rabbi, the Son of God, invited himself into the home of a known, corrupt, vile sinner? How awkward do you think that would have been? But Jesus knew Zacchaeus was more than his reputation and his corruption: he was a human being whom Jesus wanted to connect with on a heart level. And the reality of that interaction, when Jesus invited himself to Zacchaeus’ home? It wasn’t awkward at all. In fact, Zacchaeus welcomed Jesus with joy, and even offered to give his possessions to those experiencing need and to repay those whom he had dealt with unfairly. You see, when Jesus radically invites himself into our lives, we are forever changed, and our response is often a generous outpouring of joyous welcome and an effort to make changes in our lives for the sake of others. Ultimately, we belong to the Body of Christ because Jesus’ radical invitation into our olives is also an invitation to generosity. The people in our lives are generous with us, particularly those who invited us to church in the first place. Maybe it was someone who invited you to sing in the choir, or maybe you were invited to Bible study where you would find lifelong friends. We are moved by God’s grace toward hospitality, because it was through God’s grace that we too were welcomed into the Body of Christ. One commentary on the story of Zacchaeus puts it this way: “Jesus radically challenges the disciples’ expectations by overstepping the boundaries to invite people in.” (Five Practices of Fruitful Congregations, 13) In this season of stewardship, it’s easy to just talk about money, about the needs of the church, about budgets and tithing. But how can we expand our definition of what it means to give generously with our hospitality? How do we show hospitality, a gift to the world, when we have very little or nothing to give in a material sense? Because here’s the deal: Jesus didn’t have a home in which to invite Zacchaeus. But he showed Zacchaeus hospitality simply by seeing him, by speaking with him when no one else would, by befriending him when it was clear he had enemies. As we reflect on Jesus’ welcoming actions, we also have an opportunity to reflect on the ways in which we’ve been blessed by our church. In what ways have you experienced Jesus’ invitation here at George Whitefield United Methodist Church? How has the life of this church changed your own life? What do you love about this church, and how can we spread that love through generous hospitality? You should have received a package in the mail with three Heart Cards, and this week, we’re asking about your love for the church. What do you love about George Whitefield UMC? If you didn’t receive a letter this week, or if you forgot yours at home, we have extras in the pews. When you come up to receive Communion, I invite you to prayerfully clip your card to the clothesline at the altar rail as a testament to the love we have for our church. And as we go forth, may we recognize the ways in which Jesus has called us down from our own trees, separated from the crowd. May we see the ways in which we're called to serve, and may we respond with generous hospitality to all those we encounter. - Pastor Christy Wright |
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December 2019
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