Conceal Me

Prelude

Welcome and Announcements

Opening Hymn: God of Grace and God of Glory #577

Call To Worship

Children of God, when you are surrounded on every side by shadows that frighten and voices that deride and confuse, what do you say?

God is our light and our salvation! Whom shall we fear?

When threats bombard you from every corner, stealing the security and peace you long for, what do you say?

God is the stronghold of our lives! Of whom shall we be afraid?

When anxiety and loneliness overwhelm and you do not know who or what to trust any more, what do you say?

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!

Because God knows our suffering. God makes a home among us, welcoming us to come home to God and one another.

Come! Let us worship God who hides us in the day of trouble and conceals us together under the cover of the tent of Love.

Opening Prayer

We pray for those in our community who are bombarded with troubles, surrounded on all sides by threats to their well-being, their livelihood, and their thriving. God, be their shelter in the time of storm. God, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for those in our community who long for peace, those who are burnt out, shut out, and ready to hide out because it all feels like too much. God, be their shelter in the time of storm. God, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for those in our world who can’t remember what safety feels like, who, after years of violence and unrest, cannot imagine what a day, a week, a year without fighting would feel like. God, be their shelter in the time of storm. God, in your mercy, hear our prayer.

God, teach us to be your sanctuary in the world. Give us the courage to make peace, extend care, and provide for the thriving of all who wonder how they will even survive. Help us be their shelter in the time of storm. God, in your mercy, hear our prayer. Amen.

Children’s Message

Noisy Coin Collection

Praises and Concerns followed by Silent Prayer, Pastoral Prayer, Lord’s Prayer

We live in the shadow of peace, O God, but too often, we face the shadow and not the light. We pray for peace today because we know we are not a whole people without it. Forgive us our warring madness, our abuse of power, and our disregard of the rights of others. Lift from us the burden of the need always to be in control. Teach us the ways of mutual love for all people. Help us to give peace a chance. Amen.

Doxology

Hymn: Open My Eyes That I May See #454

Scripture: Psalm 27: 1-5

Psalm 27:1–5 NIV

The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid? When the wicked advance against me to devour me, it is my enemies and my foes who will stumble and fall. Though an army besiege me, my heart will not fear; though war break out against me, even then I will be confident. One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple. For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock.

Sermon Title: Conceal Me

My friends, as we gather here today, I want to take you on a journey back in time - back to the Middle Ages, when the concept of sanctuary was of utmost importance. In those days, if you found yourself accused of a crime, you had one last desperate hope: to flee to the nearest church and seek refuge under the protection of holy ground.

Picture the scene - a weary, frightened fugitive, running through the streets as the shouts of his pursuers ring in his ears. But as he reached the church doors and flung them open, something remarkable happened. In that moment, he was safe. The church had become a sanctuary, a sacred space where no one could lay a hand on him, no matter the alleged offense.

Now, I don't know about you, but there's something deeply powerful about that image. It speaks to a primal human longing - the need for a place of refuge, a stronghold where we can find protection from the storms that threaten to engulf us. A sanctuary, if you will, where we can withdraw from the chaos of the world and simply be still in the presence of the Almighty.

And yet, my friends, I can't help but wonder - when was the last time you walked into this space and felt that same sense of sanctuary, that tangible feeling of being enveloped in God's sheltering love? When was the last time you stepped through those doors and were immediately filled with a profound sense of peace and security, shielded from the harsh realities that so often overwhelm us?

For many of us, I suspect it's been a while. After all, our modern sensibilities have led us to favor more contemporary, dynamic language when it comes to describing this place of worship - phrases like "worship center" or "gathering space" that emphasize the active, participatory nature of our faith. And there's certainly value in that approach, in keeping our worship alive, relevant, and responsive to the needs of our ever-changing world.

But you know, as I reflect on the rich history and deep significance of the word "sanctuary," I can't help but wonder - have we maybe swung the pendulum a little too far in our rejection of that timeless concept? Because in a world that often feels so chaotic, so overwhelming, so filled with fear and uncertainty, don't we all still long for a place to withdraw, to breathe, to find our strength renewed in the very presence of God?

Just listen to the words of the psalmist: "For he will hide me in his shelter in the day of trouble." Doesn't that just paint such a vivid picture - this image of God's protective wings enveloping us, shielding us from the harsh realities that threaten to consume us?

You know, as we've been reflecting on this idea of sanctuary, this need for a sacred space where we can withdraw and find refuge, I can't help but unpack that powerful imagery a bit further. Because when the psalmist speaks of God "hiding" us in his shelter, he's evoking something so much deeper than just a physical place of safety.

In that ancient world, to be "hidden" in the presence of the Almighty was to be completely enveloped, concealed, and protected. It was to be tucked away under the shadow of God's wings, where no harm could touch us. Can you just imagine it? The warmth, the security, the profound sense of being shielded from every danger - that's the kind of sanctuary the psalmist is describing.

And it's not just a metaphorical sanctuary, either. Throughout the Scriptures, we see God's people literally fleeing to the temple, to the tabernacle, to the churches, seeking that physical place of refuge where they could escape the chaos of the world and bask in the presence of the divine. It was a tangible, embodied experience of God's protective love. But you know, my friends, I can't help but wonder - how often do we extend that same sense of sheltering love and protection to those around us? Because the truth is, even as we might be finding our own lives relatively stable and secure, there are so many in our community who are in constant struggle, who are longing for someone to come alongside them and say, "You are not alone. You have a home here."

It's easy for us to get caught up in our own concerns, our own fears and anxieties, and to forget that we've been called to be a light in the darkness, a beacon of hope for a world that so often feels hopeless. The psalmist reminds us that God's love is not meant to be hoarded, but rather poured out upon all who are weary and heavy-laden.

And I can't help but think of Jesus' poignant words in Luke's gospel, where he laments over the city of Jerusalem, longing to gather the people "as a hen gathers her brood under her wings." Doesn't that just paint the most tender, compelling image? Jesus, the Son of God, our Savior - he wasn't content to simply withdraw into the safety of the sanctuary. No, his heart was breaking for those who had not yet found refuge in the embrace of the Almighty.

So as we consider what it means to be a sanctuary, my friends, I would challenge us to think beyond the walls of this building. How might we be a refuge, a place of shelter and protection, for the hurting and the marginalized in our community? How can we open our arms wide, like that mother hen, and draw in all who are searching for a place to belong?

It's not an easy task, I know. In a world that often thrives on division and fear-mongering, the call to be a sanctuary for others can feel daunting, even risky. We might worry that if we let our guard down, if we make ourselves vulnerable, we'll be taken advantage of, or that our own needs will go unmet.

But my friends, I truly believe that when we live from a place of radical hospitality, when we choose compassion over judgment, we discover that the wilderness isn't nearly as dangerous as we once thought. Because when we extend the table, when we make space at the inn, we reflect the very heart of our Savior, who came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

It's easy for us to get caught up in our own concerns, our own fears and anxieties, and to forget that we've been called to be a light in the darkness, a beacon of hope for a world that so often feels hopeless. The psalmist reminds us that God's love is not meant to be hoarded, but rather poured out upon all who are weary and heavy-laden.

And I can't help but think of Jesus' poignant words in Luke's gospel, where he laments over the city of Jerusalem, longing to gather the people "as a hen gathers her brood under her wings." Doesn't that just paint the most tender, compelling image? Jesus, the Son of God, our Savior - he wasn't content to simply withdraw into the safety of the sanctuary. No, his heart was breaking for those who had not yet found refuge in the embrace of the Almighty.

So as we consider what it means to be a sanctuary, my friends, I would challenge us to think beyond the walls of this building. How might we be a refuge, a place of shelter and protection, for the hurting and the marginalized in our community? How can we open our arms wide, like that mother hen, and draw in all who are searching for a place to belong?

It's not an easy task, I know. In a world that often thrives on division and fear-mongering, the call to be a sanctuary for others can feel daunting, even risky. We might worry that if we let our guard down, if we make ourselves vulnerable, we'll be taken advantage of, or that our own needs will go unmet.

But my friends, I truly believe that when we live from a place of radical hospitality, when we choose compassion over judgment, we discover that the wilderness isn't nearly as dangerous as we once thought. Because when we extend the table, when we make space at the inn, we reflect the very heart of our Savior, who came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

So let us not shy away from this call to be a sanctuary, a refuge, for all who are weary and heavy-laden. Instead, let us open our eyes and our hearts, seeking ways to pour out the love that has been so freely given to us. For in doing so, we just might find that the walls of this sacred space extend far beyond these four walls - reaching out to embrace a world that is desperate for the shelter of God's wings.

As we prepare to depart this sanctuary today, I want to leave you with one final thought, drawn from the words of the psalmist. He writes, "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"

My friends, do you hear the confidence, the unwavering trust in those words? The psalmist isn't just offering some pious platitude; no, he's making a bold declaration of who God is and where our true strength and security is to be found. You see, the opposite of faith isn't doubt - doubt, as we see in the Scriptures, can often coexist quite comfortably with genuine faith. No, the opposite of faith is fear. And throughout the pages of God's word, we are repeatedly exhorted to "fear not" - to not allow the anxieties and uncertainties of this world to hold us captive.

Just look at Jesus himself - even as he faced the looming specter of the cross, he did not let fear consume him. Instead, he remained steadfast in his trust and obedience to the Father, secure in the knowledge that God's love would ultimately prevail. And my friends, that same unwavering love is available to each and every one of us, if only we will open our hearts to receive it.

So as we go forth from this place, I want to encourage you - when the temptations of the world come knocking, when the wilderness seems to be closing in all around you, don't give in to fear. Instead, turn your eyes to the God who is your light and your salvation, the one who is the stronghold of your life. Seek his face, cling to his promises, and find your refuge in the shelter of his wings.

And then, beloved, go and be a sanctuary for others. Open your arms wide, like that mother hen, and welcome in all who are weary and heavy-laden. For it is in this shared experience of God's transforming love that we find the true hope and strength to overcome even our darkest fears.

So let us not lose heart, my friends. Let us rise up and be a people who live without fear, who reflect the very nature of our Savior, who was "hidden in the Father" and yet unshakable in his mission. For in the end, that is the kind of sanctuary the world is longing for - a refuge of unconditional love, unshakable hope, and life-giving grace.

May it be so among us, now and forevermore. Amen.

Closing Hymn: Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me #361

Closing Prayer and Blessing

Go, now, in the blessing of God who conceals you in the tent of God’s love, that you may invite others to come home to God who is Love. Amen.

Postlude