St. John’s Episcopal Church
Tallahassee, FL
John 14:23–29
Good morning, everyone!
Every once in a while,
you hear me say it’s time for a “family meeting”—
a parish update, if you will—
and today is one of those days.
If you’re new with us,
pardon the detour.
This will be less of a deep dive into the scriptures
and more of a family check-in.
But even still,
to do this right,
we first need to anchor ourselves
in the story of Jesus
and where we are liturgically.
Ready?
We are in the final stretch of Easter.
In case you’ve forgotten,
Easter isn’t just one day—
it’s a whole season.
The “Fifty Great Days” of resurrection joy.
Christ is risen.
Christ is alive.
Christ has triumphed over death.
And he is on the loose.
All throughout this season,
we’ve followed Jesus post-resurrection
as he appears, teaches, and ministers to his disciples.
But now the Ascension is on the horizon:
that moment when Jesus returns to the Father in heaven.
So he says to his friends,
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.
The Holy Spirit will come
and will teach you everything you need to know
and remind you of all I’ve said.”
What they don’t know
is that there will be a gap
between Jesus leaving
and the Spirit arriving.
Several days of silence.
Not quite presence,
not quite absence.
Not quite crisis,
not quite clarity.
And what they also don’t know
is that those in-between times?
They’re often when God does some of his finest work—
moving,
preparing,
teaching,
forming,
readying,
connecting,
concocting,
and calling.
In many ways,
that’s where we find ourselves right now as a parish.
The program year has drawn to a close,
summer is ahead,
and before we all scatter for a bit,
I want to talk with you about three things:
Sundays this fall,
Sundays this summer,
and a beloved staple of our life together:
St. John’s Market.
Let’s go.
* * *
1. Sundays This Fall
If you can remember way back to the Parish Meeting in February,
I shared that the time has come
for us to return to three Sunday morning services.
We’ll make that move this September.
This isn’t new news,
but we haven’t talked much about it since then.
And just like I said in February,
it’s not a decision we arrived at on a whim.
Your clergy, Vestry, and staff
have been tracking our trends
for well over a year and a half.
And here’s what we know:
we’re growing.
Sure, it’s summer now,
so you might see a few empty spots in the pews.
But throughout the program year,
y’all have been getting real cozy with each other.
Our 10:00 service consistently draws 280 to 300 people.
Our 8:00 service—once a very small and quiet crowd—
is now regularly at 40 to 50.
And here’s the thing:
studies show that when a service gets too full,
it starts to feel crowded rather than connected.
People—both longtime and new—tend to come less often
or not come back at all.
We want the people who long for what this place offers
to be able to show up, sit down, and breathe deep.
We want you to come and be here wholeheartedly.
We want to make room, because, after all,
we are a church of true belonging.
So this fall,
we’re returning to the pre-COVID rhythm of three services:
7:45, 9:00, and 11:15.
Previously, it was 8:00, 9:00, and 11:15,
but we’ve consistently heard how tight
that 8:00 to 9:00 turnaround was—
altar guild resetting,
clergy re-centering,
one crowd leaving as another is entering.
So we’re moving the 8:00 service
back 15 minutes to 7:45.
I shared this with the 8:00 crowd this morning.
Some smiled.
Some winced.
A few—perhaps those
with mid-morning tee times—
grinned pretty wide.
But most said,
“We’ll make it work.”
And that 15-minute shift will make all the difference.
Each service will have its own flavor:
7:45 will remain our quiet, contemplative Rite I service.
9:00 will be much like our current 10:00:
organ, choir, choristers, Children’s Chapel.
11:15 will offer a more solemn beauty:
same hymns, but chanted prayers, incense every week,
and a higher expression of our tradition.
Sunday School for all ages will run 10:15–11:00,
tucked neatly in between.
This isn’t about splitting us up
or change for change’s sake.
It’s about expanding what is already good.
It’s a response to growth—
and it’s the kind of problem every church wishes it had.
* * *
2. Sundays This Summer
Now, about this summer.
You may have seen the Sistine Chapel in the news recently
during the papal conclave.
That reminded me of something from when I was a kid.
Back in the ‘80s,
the Sistine Chapel underwent a major restoration.
Until then, folks had thought for centuries
thought Michelangelo had painted
in dark, brooding tones.
Turns out,
the ceiling was just dirty!
Under all that soot and grime
was brilliance—
color, vibrancy, and light.
Well, guess what, friends?
It’s our turn.
If you look up in our own sacred space,
you’ll see that mold is creeping across
our beautiful blue ceiling.
We had it tested;
it is not harmful.
But it does need to be addressed.
And the even better news?
We already have the funds to take care of it,
and I am not asking you for money!
(You’re welcome.)
Starting June 29,
we’ll need to vacate the sanctuary for about six to eight weeks
while the ceiling is cleaned and treated.
During those weeks,
we’ll move to Alfriend Hall for worship.
I hear did this years ago
during the floor refinishing,
and that lasted nine months!
We can handle six to eight weeks.
So come join us for Summer Church:
same beautiful music,
same halfway-decent preaching,
same Communion,
same Jesus . . .
just a different room and a lot more chairs.
And speaking of chairs, we’ll need help.
We can’t pull this off with staff and sextons alone.
So we’re putting together teams of
Holy Haulers,
Setup Saints,
Pew Patrol—
whatever you want to call yourselves—
to handle weekly setup and takedown.
If you’re interested,
talk to our Junior Warden, Kathy Bye.
(I’m promising donuts on her behalf.
You’re welcome, Kathy.)
VBS and Choir School Camp will continue as planned,
and we’re working on options for livestreaming
even while we’re in Alfriend Hall.
So stay flexible.
Stay faithful.
Stay joyful.
And come to church.
* * *
3. Market
Finally, let’s talk about Market.
St. John’s Market is a beloved tradition.
It dates back to the late 1800s,
and some say it’s the longest-running
church outreach event in Tallahassee.
It’s something we’re proud of . . .
and we should be.
For many, it’s a holiday hallmark.
For others, a treasured memory.
For most, it’s both beautiful and exhausting.
At its best, Market isn’t just a fundraiser.
It’s fellowship.
It’s outreach.
It’s part of our story.
And like anything that endures for 150 years,
it has evolved time and again to meet changing needs.
Now, my friends, we’re at another one of those moments.
To explain why,
think of an iceberg.
What you see on Market weekend—
the booths, the pies, the preview party, the laughter—
is just the tip.
Beneath the surface is a mountain of effort:
year-round logistics;
cleaning, corralling, collecting, categorizing;
generational shifts in how people serve and give;
generational shifts in what people want to sell and buy;
a changing availability for volunteerism;
and a quiet weariness
that many faithful people carry
but rarely name
because they just don’t want
to let anyone down.
The most complex part has become
what you might call the “garage sale” element:
attic goods, books, furnishings.
It’s a lot of work for very little return,
and it requires major volunteer hours all year long
and a really heavy lift on the weekend of.
Finding co-chairs has also become more difficult
as the role has grown heavier and more complex.
To be clear, this isn’t a technical problem
we can fix with a new signup sheet.
It’s an adaptive challenge,
a system of systems . . .
something that requires
listening, creativity, strategy, and time.
So here’s what we’re doing:
None of this is because
we’ve done anything right or wrong
along the way.
It’s just reality.
The world around us has changed,
and we get the gift and the challenge
of discerning how to adapt.
Just for the year 2025—
repeat after me, “just for the year 2025”—
we are pressing pause on the full-scale Market.
Instead, we’re planning a one-night-only event
that combines the best parts of the Preview Party
and the most joyful, lower-lift pieces of Market Day.
We haven’t settled on a name,
but I rather like
Market Under the Stars.
Picture it:
String lights in the courtyard.
Good music.
Hearty food, drinks, silent auction.
Holiday goods,
artisan crafts,
florals,
jewelry,
jams,
jellies,
pies,
cakes,
conversation.
What it won’t have this year
are the garage-sale-style items—
the books and baubles,
treasures and trinkets,
dishes and furnishings—
that take all year to clean, sort, and sell.
Some of you may be breathing a sigh of relief.
Some may feel wistful.
Many of us will feel both.
And that’s okay.
But this one-year pause is not the big news.
The big news is that this
one-year lighter-lift version of Market
gives us time . . .
room to reflect,
to recharge,
and to reimagine what Market can become.
We love Market.
We want it to thrive for generations to come.
But that means it’s time to discern
what Market can look like today.
That process is just beginning.
There’s no decision yet about 2026 or beyond,
and no decision will be made in isolation.
This is a parish-wide conversation,
and we will walk it together.
So if you have thoughts, questions, ideas, or inspiration,
talk to our Senior Warden, Leslie Redding.
And in the meantime,
stay curious,
stay hopeful,
stay open.
* * *
So . . . yes, there’s a lot happening!
But even more than that,
there is life.
This is what it means to be the Church:
to live through the in-between,
to wait and listen for the Spirit,
and to trust that larger hands than our own
are already building our future.
The disciples didn’t know
what life would look like after Jesus ascended.
They only knew that he had promised
they wouldn’t be alone.
So they stayed together.
They prayed.
They listened.
They waited.
And when the Spirit came,
they recognized it.
This is one of our moments to do the same:
To make room,
to stick together,
to be expectant,
knowing that God is already
moving,
preparing,
teaching,
forming,
readying,
connecting,
concocting,
and calling.
So hold tight and hang in
because the best is still to come.
And in the meantime,
happy summer, y’all.
See you around,
and amen.