A Private Peace in a Public Pain (Ashtabula)

Welcome & Announcements

Good morning, friends, and welcome to worship. It is a joy to gather together in God's house this morning, away from the noise and demands of the world. We've come to seek a moment of stillness and to find a place of peace for our souls. As we come before God this morning, may we find that quiet anchor that can hold us steady through all of life's storms. Let's stand as Jeff brings forth the light of Christ to our altar. While he does that, Mary will help us prepare our hearts for worship with her beautiful music.

Prelude

Call to Worship

Leader: Search for the Lord each day.

People: God waits where we least expect it.

Leader: Search for the balm in Gilead.

People: God brings healers in our need.

Leader: Cry out to the Lord in times of distress.

People: God comes speedily to meet us.

All: Come! Worship the One who hears our pleas.

Opening Hymn “I Want a Principle Within” UMH 410

Opening Prayer

Holy God, in a world filled with noise and strife, we come seeking the stillness of your presence. Our hearts are often troubled by the burdens we carry and the pain we see. We ask that you, the God who gives us room in our distress, would anchor our souls in your grace. Quiet our minds and our spirits, and prepare our hearts to hear your word. May we find in this time of worship a peace that the world cannot give, so that we may leave refreshed and ready to serve. We pray this in the name of Jesus Christ, our rock and our salvation. Amen.

Old Testament Reading: Jeremiah 8:18-9:1

Jeremiah 8:18–9:1 NIV

You who are my Comforter in sorrow, my heart is faint within me. Listen to the cry of my people from a land far away: “Is the Lord not in Zion? Is her King no longer there?” “Why have they aroused my anger with their images, with their worthless foreign idols?” “The harvest is past, the summer has ended, and we are not saved.” Since my people are crushed, I am crushed; I mourn, and horror grips me. Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people? Oh, that my head were a spring of water and my eyes a fountain of tears! I would weep day and night for the slain of my people.

Hymn “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” TFWS 2158

Responsive Reading From the Psalms: Psalm 4

Page 741 in the Hymnal

R

Answer me when I call, O God of my right!

You have given me room when I was in distress. Be gracious to me, and hear my prayer.

How long, O people, shall my honor suffer shame?

How long will you love vain words, and seek after lies?

But know that the Lord has set apart the righteous as God’s own;

the Lord hears when I call.

R

Be angry, but do not sin;

commune with your own hearts in your beds, and be silent.

Offer right sacrifices,

and put your trust in the Lord.

There are many who say, “O that we might see some good!

Lift up the light of your countenance upon us, O Lord!”

You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and wine abound.

In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me lie down in safety.

R

Anthem “One Step He Leads”

Sermon “The Quiet Anchor”

Pray with me.

Gracious God, as we turn our hearts and minds to your Word, we ask for the light of your Holy Spirit. Open our eyes to see the truth, our ears to hear your call, and our hearts to receive your message. May the words of Scripture be a living word for us, anchoring our souls in your wisdom and grace. Amen.

Friends, if we're honest with ourselves, it's getting harder and harder to look at the world without a sense of deep grief. It feels like every time we turn on the television or open our news app, we're met with another story of a tragedy, another conflict, another act of senseless violence. We hear about the cries of the hungry and the marginalized, the quiet suffering of our elderly neighbors, the systemic injustices that go unpunished. When you have a heart that breaks for the world—a heart that is tuned to God's heart—it feels like a lonely and overwhelming burden. It's a weight that settles deep within our bones, a weariness that doesn't just come from a long day's work, but from the spiritual labor of caring. We see the pain of political division tearing families and communities apart. We feel the anxiety that comes from economic insecurity and the fear for our children’s future. It's an emotional and spiritual exhaustion that permeates every aspect of our lives, leaving us feeling helpless and drained.

For those of us who have lived long enough to witness many cycles of conflict, sorrow, and change, that burden can feel especially heavy. We remember the past, and sometimes it can feel like the same painful stories are simply being retold. The grief becomes a constant companion, a shadow that follows us, whispering doubts and anxieties. It can make us want to turn away, to close our eyes and pretend the world isn’t as broken as it seems. But the prophet Jeremiah tells us that this pain is not something to be avoided. It is, in fact, a holy and right thing to have a heart that breaks for the pain of the world. The prophet, often called "the weeping prophet," cries out, "My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick." The beautiful and complex truth of this text is that the prophet's voice is so intertwined with God's voice that it’s impossible to separate them. This isn't just Jeremiah's personal agony; it is a shared anguish with God. God, too, laments the brokenness of the world and the brokenness of God's own people. Jeremiah's prophetic suffering is an echo of God's own suffering, a testimony to a God who feels with and for humanity. In a world that often demands we put on a happy face and pretend everything is fine, Jeremiah gives us permission to lament, to be honest about our sorrow, and to bring our authentic selves—our wounded, weary selves—before a God who meets us in that very space.

Jeremiah then asks a piercing question: "Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there?" It’s a question that cuts straight to the heart of the matter. He’s asking, in effect, where is the healing? Where is the help for this sin-sick soul, this sick community, this sick world? In Jeremiah's day, the people had been promised a kind of cheap grace by false prophets. They were told that because they had the Temple and the Law, they were safe from harm, regardless of their actions. They had been led to believe that all was well, that a quick fix would soothe their wounds. But Jeremiah reveals that their unfaithfulness, their self-interest and idolatry, had created a sickness that no simple ointment could cure. Their faith was a form of denial, a refusal to see the truth of their own brokenness. They had become like a person with a deep, festering wound who simply covers it with a bandage, hoping it will disappear.

And the truth is, we are often just as guilty today. Our own modern idolatries offer a soothing lie that ultimately fails to heal. We have come to believe that the relentless pursuit of comfort and distraction, the idea that we can control our own lives and destinies, the political and social ideologies that promise simple solutions—that these things can bring us peace. We look to politicians for salvation, to endless entertainment for a distraction from our anxiety, or to self-help for a peace that is ultimately hollow. But as Jeremiah shows us, when we turn away from God, even our "solutions" become part of the problem. When we deny the wound, it can never heal. The prophet suggests that the lack of true healing in the community is because the physicians—the very people who should be offering God's truth—are instead offering a soothing lie. They are offering a bandage instead of a cure, a distraction instead of a challenge, a confirmation of the status quo instead of a call to repentance. Think about our culture of instant gratification. We scroll endlessly, seeking a momentary dopamine hit to numb the pain. We buy things we don't need, hoping to fill a void in our soul. We chase after approval on social media, seeking a sense of worth from strangers. These are our false balms—and they are powerless to heal a broken heart.

This is a powerful warning to the church today. Are we, the modern physicians, still offering a cheap grace? Are we so concerned with being heard that we fail to speak the truth? Do we avoid uncomfortable topics like injustice, greed, and spiritual complacency because we fear it will wound the congregation? Jeremiah tells us that this is precisely how a community gets sick. The wound goes untended. The disease of sin and self-interest spreads. God, in God's great love, feels this deep anguish. God's heart breaks with us. We have a responsibility as a church to be honest about the wounds of the world and our own spiritual brokenness, to not simply offer a pleasant sermon that makes people feel good for an hour. We are called to be courageous truth-tellers and authentic healers, modeling a life that is truly anchored in God, not in the illusions of the world.

So where do we find healing? Where is the true balm?

This is where the second reading, Psalm 4, speaks to us. It doesn't offer an escape from the pain, but an anchor in the midst of it. It’s a song for the evening, a prayer for when you're alone with your worries, replaying the day's events in your mind. It’s a hymn for a sleepless night, a whispered prayer for a weary soul. The Psalmist prays, "Answer me when I call, O God of my right! You gave me room when I was in distress; be gracious to me and hear my prayer."

This is the key. God gives us room. Where the world tries to hem us in and close us off with anxiety and fear, God provides a spacious place for us to breathe. God provides a quiet center, a personal refuge. This peace isn't a promise that the world won't be painful. It's the promise of a quiet inner place with God that allows us to engage with the public pain without being utterly consumed by it. It’s a peace so deep that the Psalmist can say, "I will both lie down and sleep in peace; for you alone, O Lord, make me lie down in safety."

Think about that for a moment. What keeps you up at night? The worries about your family, the stress of your work, the anxiety of a world that feels out of control. We live in a culture that values constant busyness and endless information, yet we feel more unsettled than ever. The Psalmist acknowledges those anxieties, but then gives us a spiritual practice: be still, and find your rest in God. This peace is a private grace from God. It's the calm that comes from knowing God has heard your prayers, that God is with you, and that God has created a space for you in God's presence—a space that is bigger than any fear. This isn't something we earn; it is a gift of grace from a God who knows us and loves us. It is an infusion of joy in our hearts, "more than the increase of the harvest of the fields and vineyards."

And this private peace is not meant to be a hiding place. It's a place of renewal, a place to gather strength so we can return to the hurting world. The peace we find with God enables us to continue to love and serve without being overwhelmed. It empowers us to be the hands and feet of Christ, to be the very physicians the world so desperately needs, carrying a balm that is not cheap or temporary, but a true and lasting healing that comes only from God. It's about a peace that enables action, not passivity. The prophet Jeremiah was not passive. He found his quiet anchor in God, and from that place of peace, he continued to speak God’s truth, even when it was painful. This is our call, too. To be prophets in our own time, speaking truth in love from a place of unshakable spiritual grounding.

This is the very essence of Wesleyan faith. We believe in both personal and social holiness. We can't have one without the other. Our private faith—the grace that makes us whole—must propel us into the public square to serve our neighbors. We must find our own quiet center with God, but we must not stay there. Our peace, our faith, our healing is meant to be shared. It is meant to be the balm we offer to others. For a faith that is only personal is ultimately hollow, and a faith that is only social is without an anchor. We are called to embody both, to be a people who are deeply rooted in God's love and who are fearlessly active in sharing that love with the world.

Remember the words of that old spiritual, which give a resounding answer to Jeremiah's question: "There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole. There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul." That balm is the grace and love of Jesus Christ. He is the true physician. He is the one who took on our brokenness and our pain, a pain so deep that it left scars on his body. He is the one who provides the ultimate space for us in God's kingdom. He is our anchor, our refuge, our true and lasting peace.

When we feel the grief of the world, let us bring that grief to God, as Jeremiah did. When we feel overwhelmed, let us find our private refuge in God’s presence, as the Psalmist did. And from that place of inner calm, let us go out and share the true Balm of Gilead, a love that heals and a peace that endures, with a world in desperate need.

Amen.

Offertory & Doxology

Friends, our sermon today reminded us that God calls us to be physicians to a sin-sick soul, to bring a balm of healing and hope to a hurting world. The work of the church is to be that balm, to feed the hungry, comfort the grieving, and be a light in the darkness. As we now prepare to receive our offering, let us give not out of obligation, but as an act of gratitude and a way of participating in God's healing work. It is through our gifts that we can continue to be a quiet anchor of hope for others.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.

Prayer of Dedication

Holy God, we present these offerings to you, acknowledging that everything we have is from you. We pray that you would take these gifts, which are an expression of our gratitude and trust, and use them to extend your healing presence in the world. Bless this church and its ministries so that it may be a quiet anchor of hope for the lost and a source of balm for the brokenhearted. We ask this in the name of the One who makes us whole. Amen.

Having offered our gifts as an act of trust and gratitude, let us now offer our hearts in prayer. We can be sure that God hears not only the praises we sing but also the burdens we carry. Let us now lift up to God all that weighs on our hearts.

Morning Prayer

O God of boundless love and mercy, we gather as your people, bringing with us the burdens and joys of this life. We offer you our gratitude for your faithfulness, for the quiet moments of peace you grant us, and for the hope you place in our hearts.

Lord, we lift up to you our church and our community. Guide our leaders, bless our ministries, and stir our hearts to be a beacon of your love in this world. We pray for our neighbors, for those who are struggling with illness, for those who are grieving, and for those who feel alone. May your presence be a comfort to them.

God of all comfort, we also lift up to you all those who are on a difficult journey. We pray for families who are in the midst of trials that they must face publicly. We ask for your hand of peace to be upon them, for strength as they endure, and for courage as they seek justice. We also pray for your healing touch upon all who have been hurt and for the wisdom of all who seek to walk with them. Give us the grace to be a quiet, constant presence of love and support for one another, as we share in your sorrows and your joys.

We pray for all who suffer in silence, whose struggles are unknown to us but not to you. In the quiet of our hearts, we hold them before you now, trusting in your tender care.

O God, you are our loving Father in heaven, and you have taught us that we do not have to carry our burdens alone. You have given us a model for how to pray, and so with confidence and faith, we now offer our prayers in the words that Jesus taught us...

The Lord’s Prayer

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.

Strengthened by prayer, let us now continue to lift our hearts in song, preparing to leave this place. Let us sing to the God who is our refuge and our soul's true resting place.

Closing Hymn “Jesus, Lover of My Soul” UMH 479

Benediction

Go forth from this place, held by the peace of God which passes all understanding. May Christ, our quiet anchor, hold you steady in the midst of life's storms, and may the Holy Spirit empower you to be a balm of healing and hope to a wounded world. And may the blessing of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be with you now and forevermore. Amen.

Postlude