Reflections

A Living Hope

We call the Sunday before July 4th Freedom Sunday. And I know that can get tangled up—mixing God and country—but here’s what I mean: God is the source of our freedom. Not the nation. God.

And that matters because when we forget that, we start thinking freedom is something the government gives us. Or takes away. And that’s not all of it. Real freedom? That comes from knowing you belong to God. That nothing can separate you from that. Not success, not failure. Not approval, not shame. You belong to God.

I think about all the people who came before us who knew that in their bones. Who were locked up or beaten or killed and still knew they belonged to God. Still knew that was the thing that mattered. And they passed that down. They passed down a faith that was bigger than fear. That’s the freedom we’re celebrating. Not fireworks. Not flags. But the God who makes us free.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
The Family of God

When Jesus was little, his parents took him to the temple to do all the things the law required. And it says about Jesus that he grew up, became strong, was filled with wisdom. Just like any other kid. He had parents who loved him. A community around him. People who taught him, shaped him, told him what mattered.

And so when we read about Jesus later, talking about being a son of God first, about God’s love and God’s ways mattering most—that didn’t come out of nowhere. That came from being loved. That came from people who showed him what love looked like. What service looked like. What it meant to keep faith.

Your kids are watching. They’re learning from what you do, not just what you say. They’re learning whether God is actually real or just something you talk about on Sunday. They’re learning whether kindness is worth it. Whether showing up for people matters. And here’s what gets me: they’re learning all of that without you even trying. So maybe try a little anyway.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
Called to Serve

There’s a difference between being invited to serve and actually serving. One is a nice feeling. The other is showing up on the day it’s inconvenient.

We talk about being Christ’s hands and feet, but we Methodists—I mean, we had to work for weeks to change the color on the bulletin. Weeks. So actually going out and doing the work? That takes something. It takes deciding that your comfort matters less than somebody else’s need.

What I see happening is people finding out that when they actually do the work, something shifts. You start seeing people differently. You can’t serve someone and hate them. You can’t feed someone and dismiss them. The work changes you. And that’s God working. That’s the gospel actually moving through your hands.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
The Heart of Prayer (Psalm 34)

Psalm 34 says, I sought the Lord and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. But here’s what I notice: it doesn’t say the fears went away. It doesn’t say suddenly everything was fine. It says I sought. I called out. God heard me.

And then it says he delivered me from my fears. Not that the scary things stopped happening. But that I stopped being ruled by them. I stopped letting them decide who I am and how I live.

We’ve got people in our congregation dealing with health scares. Dealing with family stuff that pulls you in a hundred directions. Dealing with uncertainty about jobs, about futures, about whether God’s actually listening. And I want you to know that seeking doesn’t mean you have all the answers. It just means you’re turning toward God instead of away. And God hears that. God meets you there. In the not-knowing. In the fear. In the place where you’re finally willing to admit you can’t do this alone.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
The Heart of Prayer (Matthew 6)

I’ve been thinking about the young people we’ve known through Project Transformation, and what it means to see someone really come alive when they realize they can do something. When they realize they have a gift. Not that they were born with it perfect, but that it can be developed. That they can grow.

That’s what mentorship is. It’s not telling somebody you’re special. It’s showing them the door and saying, go. Try. Fail. Try again. And I’ll be here.

What these young people learned wasn’t just about ministry or church. It was about themselves. That they have something to offer. That their voice matters. That God can actually use them. And you know what? Once you know that about yourself, you can’t unknow it. It changes everything. The question becomes, what will I do with this? Where will I go? Who will I become? That’s when following Jesus stops being something your church wants and becomes something you want.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
The Heart of Prayer

My granddaddy always said, keep your own counsel. Don’t tell your business all over the place. And I lived by that for years without even realizing I had. See, that’s how it works. Nobody has to say it out loud. We just absorb it from the air around us. We pick it up from what people do. From what gets punished. From what gets praised.

I didn’t know until I was older that I had written this script for myself: don’t ever be wrong. Don’t ever say something incorrect. Because when you say something wrong, people shame you. They correct you. They look at you like you’re stupid. So I decided to just not talk.

We all have these scripts. Your mama always told you something. Your granddaddy said something. And maybe it was good advice. Maybe it was broken advice. But it’s running in your head now, telling you who you are and how you should be. The thing is, Jesus looks at all of that and says, who is my mother? Who are my brothers? He’s saying that living God’s way matters more than living by the rules we inherited. More than staying silent. More than being perfect. Your story starts here. In God. In what God wants for you. Not in what your family decided.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
The Power of Love

Mother’s Day. I’ve never been great at these kinds of days. You’re supposed to say the right thing, honor the right people, and I always feel like I’m missing somebody. Somebody’s mother showed up on a Friday when her own mother couldn’t. Somebody’s mother is gone. Somebody’s mother did her best and it still wasn’t enough because nobody’s perfect. Somebody’s mother left, and somebody else became the one who showed up.

What strikes me is that real love—the kind Jesus was talking about—doesn’t require blood. It doesn’t require perfection. It just requires showing up. It requires saying, I see you. I’m here. You matter.

That’s what we’re really celebrating today. Not the card. Not the flowers. The people who looked at another person and decided to love them anyway.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
Following the Way

You know, we talk a lot in church about coming to the table, about communion being this family meal. I want to say that clearly. If you’re here and you say you follow Jesus, you’re invited. It doesn’t matter if you were baptized Methodist or anything else. If you’re trying to follow our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, this meal is for you. All of us. All ages, all conditions, all the mess we’re carrying.

I think sometimes we miss how radical that is. In Jesus’ time, you didn’t just eat with anybody. There were rules about who sat with whom, who touched what, who could be at the table. And then Jesus says, no. This is a family meal. My family. Everyone in it.

So when you come to communion here, you’re not joining a club. You’re not passing some test. You’re sitting down with family. And that family is bigger and stranger and more broken than you probably expected. But it’s your family if you want it to be.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
The Power of Love

This morning we had children’s time. We sang “Jesus Loves Me,” “This Little Light of Mine,” “Do Lord.” Songs I sang when I was little and still love.

One of those songs asks God: “Do Lord, oh do Lord, remember me.” And I asked the children: Do you think God could ever forget you? The answer is no. But we ask anyway.

We ask God to remember us. We ask God to see us. Even though we know he does.

When we sing—whether it’s with children down front or in the pews—our whole body gets involved in praising and worshiping God. Something shifts inside us when we sing together. It’s not just about the words. It’s about the unity. It’s about being part of something bigger.

We bring the light of Christ into the church. And at the end of the service, we carry it out. Because that means we’re taking the light of Christ out into the world. We’re letting it shine for other people.

So carry your light. Let it shine. Remember that God remembers you. And take that light with you when you leave this place. Take it into your homes, your workplaces, your communities. That’s what the light is for.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope
The Heart of Prayer

I want to talk about something coming up that matters to us as a church. Vacation Bible school. It’s not just a week of activities. It’s a whole-church production. And I need all of us.

Can you help with snacks? Can you be a group leader? Can you teach at one of the rotation stations? Can you be a greeter or a prayer? Can you help with setup, decoration, cleanup?

All of us.

And then there’s something else coming this summer. Glen Lake Camp. If you haven’t been there in the last couple of decades, you might be surprised at what’s changed. But it’s a wonderful place for families to go together, for elementary kids, junior high, high school—all ages can go.

Here’s what I’ve said for years: A week at church camp is the equivalent of a full year of Sunday school. Because of the intensity of the Christian community there. Because of the learning that happens in that concentrated time. Because kids experience what it means to be part of the body of Christ when they’re away together, worshiping together, learning together, being challenged together.

So I want us to start thinking about it now. Praying about it. And making sure we’re able to provide scholarship assistance for families who need it. Because every child should have the chance to experience what it means to belong to something bigger than themselves.

A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope