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 Erin Robinson Hall | Aug 21, 2018 | Reflections, Uncategorized, Wonder |
Yesterday, was a promise keeping day. The promises were made over our son years ago. We stood at the front of a sanctuary with our infant. The minister took him from my arms, and walked down the aisle. He said “This child is not your own. He is a gift from God, and you will spend the rest of your days giving him back to God.” I could not breathe as I whispered yes on that day. He asked us: Do you promise to bring him to know the loving community of the Church? Do you promise to teach him language of faith, until that day when he can say yes to God on his own? We promised that we would. We have, as much as we know how. Every day, in prayers and actions and kindnesses modeled. Every chance we can, in Sunday school and meals and worship and songs. Yesterday he received a gift. He was so excited to receive his very own Bible. With his name engraved on it, he’ll have you know. Our congregation gives a new Bible to first graders, marking the entrance into a new season of faith. Our boy is quick to note that this means donuts, guitar songs and Jenga in the “big kids” Sunday school class. We know it means he is stepping further along in his own journey of faith. The choir sang “Ancient Words,” and I found myself again whispering yes. “Holy words long preserved For our walk in this world. They resound with God’s own heart Oh let the ancient words impart. Ancient words ever true Changing...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Mar 7, 2018 | Reflections, Uncategorized |
Oh, these faces. This picture is four generations of strength and sass: my Mama Eller, Nana, my mama, and me. When I hear my own voice these days, I catch little bits of their voices in mine. I sound like Mom. On the phone, Mom sounds more like these two. For International Women’s Day, I find myself thinking about places I have heard women’s voices this year. I joked with my friend Jessica that I should be called the “Monogrammed Feminist,” because that name captures so much of both my sweet, Southern raising and my firm belief in upholding equality for women and girls. We’ll just tuck that name away for another day. This year has been an amazing chorus of voices, with sisters and friends finding their way in new adventures and endeavors. I have voiced conversations that mattered, and practiced #lettinggo with Nikki on our podcast, Glass Half Full. I have preached and led retreats in new places, gathering new friends into my circle: The voices of powerful novels have held new meaning for me in my book club. The Color Purple, Big Little Lies, and The Handmaid’s Tale have taken us into some fascinating conversations. I have learned to celebrate how #Moxie, welcoming Jen Hatmaker into our Macon circle. I have listened to my own Mama try out new skills and shine in the beauty of herself. So, on this #Internationalwomensday 2018, here are FIVE things to inspire. Have a listen, read up, and tell me what inspires you: 1. Gospel Gothic, and that time I joined the gentlemen for Episode 49, when the ladies had...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Jan 21, 2017 | Reflections, Uncategorized |
I told my sister I was proud that she was marching, but I could not do it. I was very anxious about being in crowds upon crowds of people. Then, she decided to march close to home, in Atlanta. I decided if I could name the reasons I should march, then I would do it. Here is what I came up with. This is why I plan to march on January 21, 2017. Because marching is a visual signal of the multitude of people who have something to say. It’s one thing to claim “alot of people.” It is quite another thing to see the impact on cities around the globe when people show up by the thousands, stand in city streets, and speak. This visual reminder becomes part of our imagination when we talk about “We, the People.” Because I am choosing to have trust in those who love me. I am trusting that they will love me more than they dislike my views. There is some risk for me in marching, in that my presence there will offend some family and friends. My husband and my Dad wholeheartedly support me marching, even thought they will not be there. I know that others may be surprised, offended or confused that I would participate. I am trusting that they will continue to love me in spite of how we see things differently. I have listened when they share. I have respectfully watched Fox News when it is on in their homes. Mostly, I don’t bring up political thoughts, because I am usually not interested in that being the focus....
by Erin Robinson Hall | Sep 27, 2016 | Reflections, Uncategorized |
My friends and I made over 12,000 meals last Sunday afternoon. If that number sounds staggering, it did to me, too. We hosted a meal-packing event with an organization called Stop Hunger Now. In less than two hours, we worked together to pour, package, seal and box thousands of meals. The meals will go to areas of the world where hunger and starvation are a crisis. We know that the number of people in this world who are hungry is staggering. When I first heard about this organization, I knew we had to host a meal-packing day. Our congregation needed this event. I needed this event. We needed this moment of joining together in work that reaches people in need. To be sure, my congregation does a lot of faithful work to help people in need. But something about the simplicity of the work – scooping, bagging, boxing – set next to the complexity of world hunger seemed like just the sort of challenge that would impact us. We got busy planning. We set the date and invited people to come. The one question I heard about 12,000 times regarding these 12,000 meals was: So, how does this work exactly? What will we do? It was difficult to imagine how the whole project would come together, especially since a major selling point of our invitation to people was: This is an event for the whole family. All generations from preschoolers to senior adults. We had never done an event exactly like this before, and some folks had a hard time understanding how we would get it done. My friend Jeff leaned...
by Erin Robinson Hall | Mar 7, 2016 | Uncategorized |
My son participated in his first mission project when he was two months old. Our church at that time had a summer program of delivering lunches to children in need. Church members and community folks spent all summer packing sack lunches and driving all over the county. One day in late July, there was a need for a driver to deliver lunches. I whispered to my infant son, “Now is as good a time as any to learn, buddy. In this family, this is what we do.” I loaded him up in the carseat, warned the deacon in the passenger seat that I had no idea how many times we would need to stop. She smiled and said “Let’s roll.” A little commotion from a baby didn’t scare her. Yesterday, my family got to serve together again. Our church hosted a mission project day called “Hand in Hand.” Our focus this time was caring for children in foster care in our city. The youngest person was 15 months old and the oldest person was ninety-two years old. Generations ate lunch and worked together. Around the tables were people who would have baffled any political poll. Correlational analysis would struggle to make connections between the views of the mother with three young children, the college professor, the artist, and the retired judge. We split into groups for five different small projects so that we worked with people who were not in our household. Toddlers and empty-nesters filled brown paper sacks with food for children. Teenagers and gray-haired businessmen tied knots to make blankets. A grandson explained to his grandmother what a...
