Some truths take a lifetime to name—but when we do, shame loses its grip and healing begins. This reflection honors the sacred act of coming out and the courage it takes to step into the light.
Some truths take a lifetime to name—but when we do, shame loses its grip and healing begins. This reflection honors the sacred act of coming out and the courage it takes to step into the light.
At St. John’s, a bold new Vision and Mission now shape our life together—naming a call to deep roots, true belonging, and abundant grace. Rooted in prayer and alive with hope, these words are more than a statement; they are a map to the Spirit-led future God is calling us to build.
On Easter morning, Mary Magdalene stands weeping in a garden, lost in grief—until the risen Jesus speaks her name. This is a story of grace that finds us, even when we cannot find our way.
From Eden to the empty tomb, the Great Vigil proclaims this: exile is over, Christ is risen, and God is calling us by name into a new creation. The garden is alive again.
Easter is more than a day—it is a way of life. Through the ordinary and the unexpected, the risen Christ reveals a world infused with grace, reminding us that we are already immersed in the love of God.
Easter invites us not to run faster but to stop and listen—to remember that Christ is alive, knows our name, and has been by our side the whole time. Sometimes all it takes is a pause to hear the promise.
On this holiest night, we remember how God works through water—from creation to the flood, from the Red Sea to the font—and how Jesus, through death and resurrection, carries us safely through. Christ is alive, and we are drowning in grace.
When life breaks apart, when healing feels out of reach, and when death seems to have the last word, Jesus responds with grace, healing, and resurrection. This story of Jairus, a desperate woman, and a dying child reveals the deeper truth: with Jesus, there is always time, always hope, always new life.
This celebration of Bishop Henry Louttit’s life brings together Christmas joy, Easter hope, and the enduring witness of a man who saw the Kingdom of God with clarity, whimsy, and love. Come remember the Bridge Builder—and the bishop who helped us see him.