Dear Friends,
According to the liturgical calendar, we are still in the Easter Season. Easter is a time for renewal, rejoicing and sharing hope. The Gospel according to John tells us that Jesus commissioned Mary to go tell the frightened and grieving disciples that she had, “seen the Lord.” She was called to be a beacon of good news as the first Christian preacher. She carried hope into hopelessness.
In times of uncertainty, injustice, or despair, hope often feels like a fragile thread. The Easter story reminds us that hope is not weakness — it is an act of resistance. Those first disciples held onto hope not as a passive feeling but as a deliberate choice to believe in a better future where God’s power is active and is strong-er than all earthy rules and rulers. Their hope fostered unity and inspired action even when the odds seem overwhelming. Choosing hope, especially in dark times, is a refusal to accept that what is broken must stay broken or what has died must stay dead.
Hope is radical because it dares to imagine change in the face of oppression. For many communities, hope has long been a survival tool—a spark that drives generations to push back against systems of inequality. It sustains movements, even when victory feels distant. This form of hope isn’t naive; it’s deeply informed by struggle. It acknowledges pain but refuses to be defined by it. To hope is to claim space in a world that tries to silence the dreams of those who dare to want more; more peace, more love, more justice.
As we navigate our own challenges, be they global or personal, hope remains a necessary companion. It reminds us that even small actions matter, and that belief in change is revolutionary. When we cling to hope, we push back against cynicism and apathy. We say: “We are still here. We still believe.”
We are an Easter people. Even when it feels hopeless, we sing Alleluia. We sing hope.
With you on the journey,
Rev. Jen