Each Saturday evening, I have a simple ritual as I prepare for Sunday morning: I choose my clothes. While this saves time the next day, it’s really a form of preparation. I am mentally and spiritually readying myself for worship. It’s a rhythm I first learned from a friend when I ran half-marathons. The night before a race, I would lay out my running clothes, shoes, and bib—anything I would need. It helped me to focus on the run ahead. 

This past Saturday, I followed that same routine—selecting my suit, shirt, tie, belt, socks and shoes. I even prebuttoned my shirt so that I could spend less energy on the routine details and more on worship, the sermon, and being present with God’s people. But as I gathered everything together, I noticed that my shoes needed to be polished. What happened next, I didn’t expect. 

I pulled out the brown Kiwi shoe polish, a cloth, and my wooden-handled brush. And in that moment, I wasn’t alone—I was shining my shoes with my dad. He used to polish his shoes on the weekends to prepare for the workweek ahead. I can still see him carefully applying the polish, buffing each shoe, and even running the polish along the edges of the sole and heel. (This was probably something he learned in the Army.) When he finished, they looked like they had come straight from a professional shoe-shine stand. 

As I polished my shoes, the familiar scent of the polish filled the room. It was one of those moments you don’t want to rush—a memory you want to linger in just a little longer.  

Dad passed away from Covid-19 on July 30, 2020—six years ago from tomorrow. Some days it feels like a long time ago. Other days, like last Saturday night, it feels like yesterday. In the time after his passing, my pastoral counselor encouraged me to be present when the memories surface—to receive them, to linger in them, and to hold them as gifts. This, he said, is part of grieving. 

One writer describes grief as “the normal but bewildering cluster of ordinary human emotions arising in response to a significant loss.” In other words, grief is the great equalizer. It touches every one of us. We know what it means to lose someone we love. 

As a congregation, we have said goodbye to far too many since I have been your pastor. We need God’s sustaining grace as we walk this road toward hope and healing. The good news is that we do not grieve alone. Even if we feel alone, God is with us. And as the body of Christ, we are given to one another—to bear burdens, to share sorrow, and to walk together.  

With this in mind, I sensed God leading me to prepare a sermon series for August titled, Faithfulness in Seasons of Loss and Change. My prayer is that this time together will help us to lean more deeply on our Lord, trust His word, and draw closer to one another as we navigate loss, change, and grief.  

Grace and peace,