In tonight’s sermon, we thought about what it would mean for our church to become a modern city of refuge. Can we go beyond Hebron’s mission as a city of safety for the accused innocent, and be a place where the guilty feel welcome, and can come to find the grace that we have ourselves have received? After all, if we are only a refuge for the innocent, we’re going to be a pretty empty church.
As we closed, we finished by reflecting on two names: one of a person who has been our refuge, and one that we are working to be a refuge for.
It may be that we need to keep the second of those confidential, but I wonder if some of you might feel comfortable sharing the name of someone who has been your refuge? Who has been there when you needed them, when you felt alone, in need, at risk, hurt, worn out, or ashamed?
For me, it’s a long list. Here, I’d like to say that Jerry and Christina Burchfield have been that kind of refuge for me since the time I first came to Little Rock. At times, they offered literally shelter for me, a place in their home while I saved up money to make a down payment on a house. They’ve given me copious amounts of roast chicken and corned beef, and more than a glass of sweet tea. Jerry’s given me good advice on life and taxes, and they’ve always been supportive of me in times when I needed it, when something hard was going on, or if I was doing something stupid. Their friendship has been a creative force in my life for the last ten years, and I’m very thankful. I want to give that kind of friendship to others.
What about you? Who is it that has given you refuge, who has helped you heal and grow? Who has been your safe harbor?
Steven,
Sounds like you’re really growing in ministering behind the pulpit. Wait, that’s Chuck who stays behind the pulpit. You’re usually just in the vicinty. Even though I wasn’t there to hear the sermon, I can almost hear your delivery and I can certainly “see” your preparation. I always appreciate when it comes through a sermon that the speaker is well-read.
I would say that Prologue was a place of refuge for me. Though I may not say all 13 people I lived with helped me heal and grow, there was a core group who taught me a lot about family, generousity, self-esteem, and love. I regret it’s part of my composition to float in and out of touch. But I’m grateful that those years at 14 Flag were so deeply influential and that the bonds created are so easily reconnected.
Life since has continued to remind me that though a walk with God might be a personal one, it’s done better in community.
It was certainly a refuge for me too, James! Certainly some of the best years of my life, and I look at lots of things, like gumbo, with much greater fondness!