Earth Day and the Gift of Creation

My parents celebrated the very first Earth Day in 1970 when our family was living in Burlington, Iowa. To commemorate the day, they filled our little red wagon with newspapers to recycle, and somehow that small act landed us in The Hawk Eye newspaper the next day. I was too young to remember all the details, but I grew up deeply shaped by my parents’ concern for creation and their belief that caring for the earth matters.

That value stayed with me as I got older. It was one of the many things that drew me to Rachel, who spent the years after college canvassing for Greenpeace. Before entering seminary, I worked as the communications and marketing manager for a fledgling bioplastics company headquartered here in Kansas. During my time there, I helped promote what became the market’s first compostable, plant-based elastomeric plastic.

These commitments continue in small ways at home. We compost. We wash and reuse our zip-top bags. We recycle as much as we can. None of us does this perfectly, but we try to live with greater awareness of the impact our choices have on the world around us.

Scripture reminds us why this matters. The psalmist declares, “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” (Psalm 24:1). From the opening chapters of Genesis, humanity is entrusted with the care of creation. We are called not to exploit the earth as though it belongs to us, but to steward it as a sacred gift entrusted to our care.

How we treat the earth and its creatures reflects something about how we understand our relationship with God. Creation is not disposable. It is beloved by the One who made it.

Earth Day can sometimes feel overwhelming when we consider the scale of environmental challenges facing our world. But faith reminds us that small acts of care matter. Planting a tree. Reducing waste. Conserving resources. Supporting policies and practices that protect our shared home. These choices may seem small, but they are acts of gratitude and stewardship.
May we continue to tread more lightly upon the earth and care faithfully for this precious gift God has entrusted to us.

See you in church!

Grace, Peace, and Love,

Pastor Kevin

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Grief, Grace, and the Gift of Being Present

On Thursday morning we learned that we lost two beloved members of our congregation, Bill Wynne and Susan Kensill. In the midst of the flurry of church activities, I was blessed with a message on WhatsApp from Liset Amador, a member of the congregation in Placetas, Cuba. She wrote:

We live our lives constantly rushing—from one thing to another, from one obligation to the next, from one pending task to another. Sometimes we say, “We don’t have time.” Yet, saying this makes us realize something: we aren’t allowing ourselves to truly live. And amidst this whirlwind of thoughts, mental chatter, and fleeting fantasies, we often let life pass us by.

Life isn’t always found in the grand moments; rather, it resides in the simple things: a shared coffee or tea, an unhurried conversation, caring for our bodies through exercise, an unexpected smile, a comfortable silence—those small, unplanned moments that are felt deep within us. Yet, we often overlook them because we are busy thinking about what comes next, what is missing, or what lies ahead. When was the last time you were truly *present*? Not just physically—with your body—but truly *present*: feeling, listening, and truly *seeing*.

Happiness—or a sense of well-being—is not something to be attained; it is something to be recognized. “Oh, I loved that!” And to recognize those emotions, you have to *be there*—you have to be present. And to be present, you have to STOP.

Today, there is no need to change your entire life. Just pause for a moment and simply *live* what is already here—this very moment we are sharing: listening to the birdsong, feeling the warmth of the sun, sensing nature all around us, or gazing at the sky, even if it’s cloudy. Let us simply live what is already here… *that* is what it means to STOP.

Remember: when simple things are shared, they become immense.

Let us set aside our worries and simply live this moment of coming together.

I’m grateful for the ministry that we share with Placetas and blessed by Liset’s words. Her message touched my heart that was breaking with the news of Bill and Susan’s passing. We grieve their loss even as we celebrate the eternal life promised in Christ.

See you in church!

Peace, love, and grace,
Pastor Kevin

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Rooted in Christ, Growing in Grace

During the time before I was called as your pastor, Grace Presbyterian engaged in meaningful listening through Town Halls and the strategic planning process. As I was discerning whether God might be calling me to serve alongside you, I was deeply encouraged by the thoughtful and faithful work that had already been done. It was clear that this congregation takes seriously the call to listen for where God is leading and to imagine a future shaped by faith, compassion, and service.

Those earlier conversations helped clarify Grace’s sense of mission — affirming the importance of vibrant worship, deep relationships, caring ministry, and engagement in God’s work both locally and globally. At the same time, there was honest recognition that the world around us is changing and that the church is continually invited to adapt faithfully in response.

Now, in this season of Easter, we are reminded that resurrection is not only something we celebrate once each year. Resurrection is the ongoing promise that God continues to bring new life where we may only see uncertainty, challenge, or transition. The risen Christ continues to renew people, communities, and the church itself.

The upcoming Listening Sessions, build on the work that has already been done. If the earlier conversations helped clarify our mission, these gatherings focus on vision — how we are called to live into that mission now, and where we sense God inviting Grace to grow in the years ahead.

Each gathering will be informal, welcoming, and grounded in prayer. You do not need to prepare anything in advance. Simply bring your experiences of Grace, your hopes for its future, and an openness to conversation. These conversations will also help us consider how we steward our resources in ways that are faithful, sustainable, and hopeful. Our purpose is not simply to respond to financial challenges, but to listen for where there is energy, clarity, and a sense of calling as we seek to participate in God’s renewing work among us.

So far, only a few people have signed up. I hope you will consider participating. Your perspective matters, and the future of Grace will be shaped through the shared wisdom that emerges when we listen to one another with openness, humility, and trust in the Spirit’s guidance.

Easter reminds us that God is always at work bringing life out of what once seemed uncertain. I look forward to discovering together how God is continuing to shape Grace Presbyterian as a community rooted in Christ and growing in grace.

See you in church!

Peace, Love, and Grace,
Pastor Kevin

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When Time Becomes Holy

Each year, Holy Week invites us into the heart of our faith. It is not simply more church at different times of the day. It is the climax of the Christian liturgical year, when Christians around the world once again walk the path of the passion — through betrayal, denial, rejection, crucifixion, and resurrection.

The word holy comes from the Hebrew kadosh and the Greek hagios, words that mean “set apart,” something distinguished from what is ordinary or routine. Holy Week is time set apart within the year, an invitation to slow down and pay attention, to walk the road with Christ in a way that shapes who we are and how we live.

Throughout this week, we join the crowds who cry Hosanna — God save us. We gather at the table to share the bread and cup of Christ. We draw near in the garden as Jesus prays in anguish. We stand at the cross and confront the reality of suffering, violence, and love poured out for the sake of the world. And then, in the quiet astonishment of Easter morning, we encounter the mystery of the empty tomb and the promise that death does not have the final word.

I hope you will join us for worship during Holy Week. Each service offers a different way of entering the story — through scripture, prayer, silence, song, and sacrament. Together, these moments form a journey that moves us from lament to hope, from sorrow to wonder, from endings to new beginnings.

At the same time, I encourage you to make space for holy time beyond the walls of the church. Set aside moments to pray. Share a meal with friends or loved ones. Reach out to someone who is carrying a heavy burden. Walk alongside those who feel forgotten or overlooked. Weep for what is broken in our world. Give thanks for love that does not turn away.

Holy Week is not only something we attend. It is something we practice. We learn again how to walk the lonesome valley with Christ, trusting that even in places of sorrow, God is at work bringing life.

However you observe this week, I pray that you may experience time set apart — time made holy — as we walk together toward the cross, and toward the good news that awaits us on Easter morning.

See you in church!

Grace and peace, Pastor Kevin

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Why the Sanctuary Grows Darker in Lent

Dear faith family,

Earlier this week, someone asked me a thoughtful question:

“Why do you have black curtains partially covering the beautiful stained glass windows in the sanctuary?”

If I’m honest, this is a new tradition for me as well. But over these weeks of Lent, I’ve come to experience it in a meaningful way.
With each passing Sunday, the sanctuary grows a little darker. The light that usually pours through those windows is slowly dimmed. And in that gradual change, something important is being revealed.

Lent is a season that does not turn away from darkness. Our faith does not deny that there is brokenness in the world, or in our own lives. It does not rush past grief, suffering, or injustice. Instead, like Christ, we are invited to face it—to walk through it with honesty, courage, and trust.

These black curtains are a visible expression of that journey.

They reflect the growing weight of the story we are telling together. Week by week, we move closer to Jerusalem. We join the crowd as Jesus enters the city. We gather at the table in the upper room. We follow into the garden as prayers are offered in the night. And soon, we will stand at the foot of the cross.

The dimming light helps us feel the weight of that story. It reminds us that this is not just something we remember—it is something we enter.

And yet, this is not a story of despair.

Because even as the sanctuary darkens, we continue to sing. We continue to pray. We continue to gather. Not because the darkness isn’t real, but because we trust that it will not have the final word.

We know the rest of the story.

The black curtains are not only a symbol of the darkness in scripture, in our lives, and in our world—they are also a sign that we are moving through that darkness together, holding onto the promise that the light of Christ will not be overcome.

And if you find yourself feeling overwhelmed by the darkness—whether in the world around you or in your own life—please know this: you do not have to walk through it alone. The church is here for you. I am here for you.

My door is always open.
Grace and peace,
Pastor Kevin

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