Proof of Life: Middle Church Has Risen!!

Thus says the Lord,
who makes a way in the sea,
a path in the mighty waters,
¹⁷ who brings out chariot and horse,
army and warrior;
they lie down; they cannot rise;
they are extinguished, quenched like a wick:
¹⁸ Do not remember the former things
or consider the things of old.
¹⁹ I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.
²⁰ The wild animals will honor me,
the jackals and the ostriches,
for I give water in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
²¹ the people whom I formed for myself
so that they might declare my praise. Isaiah 43: 16-21

Alok wrote a fabulous poem a couple of weeks ago—I’m About to Do a New Thing—and preached it at Middle Church on April 6. Wow, it blew my heart wide open. I asked them to reflect on this text when they preached; what a gift it was. The poem strummed by hope, provoked my wonder, and has stayed with me these last couple of weeks.

This scripture above has stayed with me since my first week in seminary. Going back to school, to have the luxury to think, write, and talk about God was exactly what I needed. This text, “I’m about to do a new thing, can you perceive it?” was an answer to all my questions. God was making me new, even in ways I could not understand. God was making a river in the desert of my soul. God was reminding me every time I revisited this text just how Godish God is. Able to do more than I can ask or imagine. Able to open seas and liberate their people. Able to make a way out of no way. Able to emancipate and liberate, and make free. Able to cause a rumble in the earth and tears to gush from the sky and bring new life out of death.

Oh, I needed this God to be this kind of God for my 30-year-old self. Still do. And God has not disappointed. Life has. Circumstances have. Brokenhearted, I’ve often limped along in my faith, but God is always there. All. Ways. There.

So, as I type I am crying because the God who did not start the fire that stole my church, the God who kept our community together for five years without a home, the God who brought Vickie Burns and Mark Reed and Danita Branam and all of my board to the table to stubbornly commit to rebuilding our sacred space in our neighborhood; the God who can make a river in my dry soul, that God helped us rise from the ashes. This God showed their God-ness and brought us back to life! This God helped us raise money AND gave us a generous heart to give away funds to those who needed it as much as we did—to fire ravaged communities, to war-torn lands.

This God proves the power of love. This God reminds us that fire, famine, war, nationalism, pandemics and politics can’t stop God from being God and can’t stop love from being love.

Our Liberty Bell survived the fire. Miraculous. It went to the New York Historical Society for a few years and came home to us just now. It is sitting in the lobby of our renovated space. I saw the bell, I touched the bell, felt the cool metal, imagined all the time it tolled hanging in our tower, since 1892. How many stories did it tell? How many heard it and came to church to find safety and love?

The bell survived the fire. Middle Church survived. I survived. Our love survived.

And this Godly God, this Love that will never let us go, this God held us together. Opening ways for us to be community in the digital spaces, creating connections, giving us tabernacles at Calvary, East End Temple and Judson Church. Giving us partners who prayed for us and hosted us and hung in with us.

How did this happen? How did we make it? God was with us, that’s how. And we were resilient, and determined and faithful. Middle Church has risen from the ashes, and that is proof of life, proof of faith, proof of love.

And now, we are about to do a new thing in a new space in a new way. On Easter Sunday, we will be back home!!

God is about to do a new thing; can you see it?

We can! Come join us, come home to love.

P.S. If you don’t yet have a seat for Easter in person, worship with us online—and then come home to love on April 27 at 11:45 a.m. when we’re together again in the sanctuary.

Check out all our Holy Week events at middlechurch.org/holy-week — there’s still room at the table.