by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Apr 16, 2019 | Prayers, Reflections, Uncategorized |
When churches burn, we are heartbroken, I told him. His little voice asked what happened and why I was upset at the news. I told him, Jesus weeps with us. God knows our sadness when something beautiful is destroyed. When churches burn, we gasp and hold our breath, unable to believe that this mighty structure could also be gone. We remember when the walls were built, how long it took to build this place, stone by stone. We remember how it took a directive, a collection, an offering of the widow’s mite to pay for each brick, each timber, and each nail. How could their gifts be destroyed like this? How could their legacy be turned to ash? When churches burn, we see each part of the sacred space and remember our vocabulary for religious architecture. We see the arches, the flying buttresses, and the nave as the grand spire collapses. The baptistry, the narthex, and the vestibule name the thresholds where we crossed from the ordinary into the holy spaces. When churches burn, we remember the first time we stepped into that place. How the heavy door made us aware of our inadequate muscles, how the stained glass seemed to shine every color in the created world. We remember how the choir voices sounded like they could lift the ceiling and even the whispered litanies echoed with power because they were spoken in that sanctuary. We remember how we looked up at the ceiling, curved as a shield for the gathered people. We remember how it felt to visit, to worship, to be a part of this place....
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Apr 15, 2019 | Prayers, Reflections |
John 12:1-11 Once upon a time, a door stood in the way. We were awaiting the arrival of our son, pregnant as could be, and quite ready for the birth to begin. My husband’s mother had called every day for an update on when her grandson would arrive. She lived a couple of hours away, and was ready to hop in the car and get to us. When the time came and Jake called her, she was equal parts ecstatic and anxious. She and Jake’s aunt had talked about this trip to the hospital since the very day we had announced that our long journey of infertility had finally brought us to expecting a baby boy. She could not wait to be at the hospital to hold this baby. She grabbed her bag, her overnight items, and her sister to run to the car and hit the highway. Until she realized: her car keys were in her bedroom. And she had just locked the door to that room. The locked door stood between her and her loved ones. So she broke down the door. There was no waiting for help and no frustrated tears. She saw what needed breaking and she broke it. She found a hammer, beat a large hole into the door, and opened that door. She grabbed her keys. Like a boss. Like a mother. The broken door stayed that way for a while. It took some months to replace it, but that cost was never calculated when she swung the hammer. It didn’t matter. When I first saw the gaping hole on a visit some...
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Apr 14, 2019 | Reflections, Resources |
Luke 19:28-40 We like to be prepared. I always feel better having some idea what a situation will be like. As much as my family gives me grief about saying, “What’s the plan?” I know it matters. We feel stronger with a plan. Today is Palm Sunday, the day in the Church calendar when we arm small children with weaponry (palm branches) and send them to march through the sanctuary without any eye injuries. Add to that pageantry the fact that, at our church, the children’s choir sings alongside the adult choir, and you have a recipe for some really charming chaos. Bless all the hearts. When it came right down to it, our entire plan for the day was turned around. Extreme weather was headed for our area, and the forecast included a tornado watch. With an excess of caution, our leadership made a plan: we canceled Sunday school and moved worship one hour earlier to get people home before the storms. Once again, preparation was in order. Emails, phone calls/texts, social media posts and even printed signs let people know exactly where to meet and when. Adults and children marched into worship at a different time and in different seats, smiling and waving palms. We were reminded that the people of God can handle a little flexibility and change. I hear the preparation in this story of Jesus. You’ll find this, Jesus directs his disciples. When they ask you, just say this, Jesus tells them. He walks them through what will happen. He offers them some readiness for the moments that are coming, like it or not....
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Mar 14, 2019 | Reflections, Resources |
Erin enjoys designing programs, curriculum and experiences for learners that invite imagination and spiritual formation. As part of her doctoral research on imagination, testimony and transformation, Erin explored the use of podcasting and technology by creating this podcast. Within the community of a congregation, Erin designed this podcast of testimonies, then studied its impact and implications. Erin holds a Doctorate of Educational Ministry from Columbia Theological Seminary and received the 2018 Gabriel Abdullah award for the best research design program for the development of moral values, and the 2018 John Nelson Award for The Bible and the Missional Church, focusing on scripture, congregation, and...
by erinrobinsonhall@gmail.com | Mar 13, 2019 | Reflections |
Sometimes words come back to me. They linger long enough to make me wonder what I am supposed to hear in them now. I wrote years ago about my experience on Ash Wednesday with a little boy named Joshua. He was about five. This moment with him is one that will always stick with me, an Ebenezer for my journey with God. In seminary, I served at Big Bethel AME Church in Atlanta. Along with jumping head-first into new traditions, I got to know some of the beautiful people of this historic church. One of my new friends was Joshua. Joshua was an energetic five-year-old boy who never stopped asking questions. His mom, Angela, and his two brothers were at church whenever the doors were open. During Lent, I attended the Ash Wednesday service, ready to help the ministry staff in whatever way I was needed. It turned out that the place I was needed most was right in the pews. The practice of Big Bethel Church was to invite people to come forward to receive ashes. Then anyone wanting a time of personal prayer could remain at the front, praying at the long kneeling bench. Angela took her three boys to receive ashes and then turned on the Mom voice to give them direct instructions: “Go with your oldest brother and sit down quietly.” Angela needed a minute at the altar. Two of the three brothers did exactly as they were told. But my buddy, Joshua, began to dance his way up the aisle, high-fiving everyone he saw. With my best teacher voice, I waved him over,...
