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Summertime. It’s that magical time of year when the pressure is off, and a kid can be a kid.

It’s a chance to relax, explore, learn – and create happy memories that last.

But what if your summer is a stretch of empty days, confined indoors?

Children come to us having never experienced the joy of a summer adventure. They’ve never been on a trip. They’re never been to camp. They have not seen the ocean, much less learned to sail. They’re never ridden a horse or learned to fish.

Together, we can give these children a summer to remember. How would you like to help?

SUMMER COOL-OFF ice cream party or boat ride at the lake $50
SUMMER STAPLES swim lessons, art lessons, or day camp $100
SUMMER DASH church camp, sports camp, or DC day trip $250
SUMMER GETAWAY baseball game & pizza night for a group home $500
SUMMER TRADITION one week at sleep-away camp $1,000

Bruce Stanley, president / CEO – When Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, we set aside the traditional liturgical colors of white, purple, green, red, and Marian blue for the somber black of ashes. The journey through Lent is not over until the darkness of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. The bright light of dawn on Easter seems far away.

To non-believers this living with darkness can seem unnecessarily painful, even morbid. We believe, however, that it is out of darkness that God’s promises are realized.

When creation occurs in Genesis, chapter 1, we read, “Darkness was over the face of the earth.” A little later, darkness appears again in Genesis 15:12,  “As the sun was setting Abram fell into a deep sleep and a thick and dreadful darkness came over him.” The Rev. Liz Roberts notes that it is during this darkness that God’s covenant promise comes to Abram. “To your descendants I give this land, from the Wadi of Egypt to the great river Euphrates” (Genesis 15:18). Even in the middle of darkness, the creative capacity of God manifests itself.

All of us have the experience of darkness. We know mental and physical illness, grief and loss, unemployment, job loss, divorce, discrimination, and more.

But we who are Lenten people have hope.

We are not shy in naming darkness and places where shadows fall. But our God is light, beauty, peace, and grace. Just as Abram was on a journey, so, too are we. We are traveling to our promised land of the Kingdom of God. It has been granted to us just as Canaan was granted to Abram. To get to the place we must go through dark places, but we go with the certitude that the living Lord can penetrate even the darkest places within and around us.

When life is at its worst is often when God is at God’s best. We do not ever lose hope because God’s will cannot be prevented and we will be brought into God’s preferred future for all of us. We name the darkness we know in Lent not because we are resigned to despair but because we are full of hope and confidence that it shall be vanquished by the radiant beams of Jesus love.

Read Lent Week 1
Read Lent Week 2
Read Lent Week 4

Bruce Stanley, president / CEO – One Sunday morning when I was on the road preaching, my wife Melissa was attending a church service here in Raleigh by herself. She was heading back for home, traveling down a dip in the road near downtown, when BAM – a car ran a light and slammed into her passenger front fender. The driver who T-boned her got out and immediately apologized, saying, “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention and I went through the red light.”

An officer arrived and interviewed a few bystanders – one of whom claimed she’d seen the accident and it was Melissa’s fault. The officer shared her statement with both drivers, and the man who’d hit Melissa changed his tune. He told the officer she was at fault. The incident is placed into the hands of insurance companies. Both drivers exchanged information. While grateful to be unhurt, Melissa was shaken literally and figuratively by the accident.

A couple of weeks later, she was out in the yard on Saturday afternoon working in the flowerbed when the man who’d hit her pulled up in the driveway and hopped out. He called to her and asked, “Do you remember me?” Apparently he’d been doing research online because he said to her, “I had no idea you were a pastor’s wife. I know I’ve done wrong, and I need you to forgive me.” He apologized with an “I am so sorry,” hopped back into his car, and off he went.

Did Melissa forgive him? Of course she did. She is Melissa, kind of heart and gentle of spirit. Even without an authentic indication of contrition beyond an awkwardly offered apology, she would have forgiven him. But if you were really sorry, how about a phone call to your insurance company? How about a check in the mail?

Isaiah 58 reminds me of this driveway encounter, which I glimpsed briefly through the den window, and it cautions me that I too have been and sometimes am still that guy. I come rolling up to the house of God, and announce myself: “Here I am! Remember me?” and then I begin the “Blah buh Blah buh Blah. I am sorry, forgive me.” And off I go. And surely God must be thinking, “Not only do I hear you, but I also see you. Your talk and your walk are not exactly the same.”

Isaiah proclaims that God doesn’t want this kind of show time from us. As if – we say this is the fast we have chosen.

Is it only a day we have chosen to humble ourselves? Is it only today that we bow our heads like a reed, and lying about in sackcloth and ashes? No. The fast I have chosen is this: Loosen the chains of injustice, untie the cords of the yoke, set the oppressed free, and untie every yoke. Share your food with the hungry and provide refugees with shelter. When you see the naked clothe them. God is not interested in our self-serving proclamations of piety or our outward displays of holiness. God is interested in actions. If we are truly sorry, truly repentant, there will be visible fruit of that faith. Isaiah says only when we commit to providing for the poor and the hungry, commit to freeing persons who are oppressed and discriminated against, only when we commit to the sojourner and refugee in our midst will God hear our cry. When our walk matches our talk, then God says will our glory shine out.

Read Lent Week 2
Read Lent Week 3
Read Lent Week 4

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, ‘Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.’ ” Luke 1:41-42

I have long thought that our habit of calling the gestation period “expecting” is defiantly inaccurate. If we were accurate, we would call it “no real idea what to expect.” While we hope and pray for a child who is healthy and whole, the full truth is that every pregnancy is fraught with danger and the lives of every birth mother and every child in utero are at risk every time.

Our defiant inaccuracy causes us to romanticize the beauty of the pregnant mother and ignore the nausea and vomiting, the varicose veins, the oft attendant anemia or gestational diabetes. Our defiant dreams race forward to what the child growing within may be. We defiantly limit the moments of clarity and candor acknowledging that birth defects are real and that all children are not born academically, athletically, or artistically gifted.

We celebrate the meeting of older cousin Elizabeth and younger cousin Mary, both most unexpectedly pregnant. When reading that the child who was to become John the Baptist leaped, my heart leaps also. As Elizabeth pronounces benediction upon Mary and the fruit of her womb, Jesus, I give joyous thanks.

The paradox of this season of Advent, our time of expectancy, is that we already know the end of their individual stories. We live with stubborn defiance that in the middle of our chaotic, broken, and – as John and Jesus will sadly soon see – brutal world, hope is not defeated. Even in the midst of pain we defiantly celebrate pregnancy. Our hopes and dreams are not restrained or contained by reason or logic. The Lord of Love is about to come into our midst and come with forgiveness, fullness, and the gift of life eternal. The facts of life yield to faith in Christ.

Let us pray, with defiant inaccuracy, “Lord, come. Be born to us.”

Read Advent Week 1
Read Advent Week 2
Read Advent Week 3
Advent Week 4