There are a few instances in life in which one word can be mentioned, and the hearer can automatically remember where they were to watch it all unfold…usually in front of a television screen in the last half century, at least. Forty years ago, today, was one of those shocking moments that caught a nation and a world off-guard, and the video and corresponding images haven’t left our heart and mind memories since: Challenger. Just over a minute after take-off from Cape Canaveral, Florida, after NASA set off its next space exploration team, the space shuttle appeared to explode for numerous many to see (whether live or tape-delay), including children in schools around the country.
There was one other pastor in my family, who I didn’t get to see all that much during my growing up years. He was serving a congregation in another state, but every once in a while, especially when his in-laws (my grandparents) were still alive, he and my aunt, would make the trek back to the home farmland. So, I may not have been all that close to him, but there was always a little more curiosity about him, a little more interest. Because the only pastors I knew would be the ones I only saw on Sunday. I wasn’t sure what they did beyond those morning hours. I guess I really didn’t care all that much then anyway.
This weekend, we will celebrate the Confession of Peter, which, in the wider church calendar, tends to fall at the beginning of the third week in January to commence the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. But, for this upcoming Saturday and Sunday at Divinity, the focus will be Matthew 16:13-19, particularly Peter’s proclamation: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”
Those verses and the day of recognition as a whole usually bring me back to my seminary graduation. The choir sang an arrangement of the above Biblical passage called, “Upon this Rock,” including a portion of the lyrics:
Alice used to run the blood drives at a church I served with before. She ran them…religiously, oddly enough. They were always in the fellowship hall, which, one could argue, is where just as much ministry happens inside church building walls as any other room. She orchestrated them as if she was under the impression that life could be impacted for the better, as if lives could be saved; as if that should be part of standard church ministry operation, whether be physically, spiritually, mentally, or a combination of all the above.
As a year draws to a close, I often find it fascinating, as well as grueling and uplifting and gut-wrenching, to sift through some of the most profound work of photographers from the last 12 months. One is captured by Kevin Cooley (Redux) following a travesty that seems like a lifetime ago. On January 7, fires emerged in California, fanned by historic Santa Ana wind gusts in the Pacific Palisades and Altadena, killing 19 and thousands of others losing their homes. And yet, in this powerful image, we are reminded that new life can somehow rise from the ashes.
