Worship at Old Stone Well Farm

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A Royal Family Tree

Our Celtic Advent, which began Nov. 15, continues today, Christ the King Sunday. Christ the King Sunday is the church’s New Year’s Eve, as it marks the end of one liturgical year and begins a new one that starts with us preparing for the birth of Jesus. On this Sunday we are reminded why Christ was born — to be a our Suffering Servant, our Crucified Lord, our Heavenly King. It is fitting to remember this as the Advent season gets into full swing and we make our way to the celebration of Christ’s birth.

The Celtic Advent is traditionally divided into two parts — the first focusing on Jesus’ first coming — his birth — and then the second half focusing on Jesus’ second coming. Today, here at the farm, we will focus on the Incarnation, the birth of Jesus. I will share with you the beautiful Incarnation page, the most famous page, from the Book of Kells, the illustrated 8th century book Irish monks created. Also called the Chi Rho page, from the Greek letters representing Christ, the ornate and intricate detailing is a lot to take in. You can spend hours gazing at it and all of the symbolism hidden in plain sight. But what it reminded me of the most is that while Christ is my King, he is also my caring, humble, always-available, loving friend and brother. Yes, brother. I have spiritual royalty in my family tree. And so do you.

Let us begin our worship!

Blessings, Pastor Donna

Matthew 1:1-18

An account of the genealogy[a] of Jesus the Messiah,[b] the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Aram, and Aram the father of Aminadab, and Aminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon, and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of King David.

And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah, and Solomon the father of Rehoboam, and Rehoboam the father of Abijah, and Abijah the father of Asaph,[c] and Asaph[d] the father of Jehoshaphat, and Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, and Joram the father of Uzziah, and Uzziah the father of Jotham, and Jotham the father of Ahaz, and Ahaz the father of Hezekiah, 10 and Hezekiah the father of Manasseh, and Manasseh the father of Amos,[e] and Amos[f] the father of Josiah, 11 and Josiah the father of Jechoniah and his brothers, at the time of the deportation to Babylon.

12 And after the deportation to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Salathiel, and Salathiel the father of Zerubbabel, 13 and Zerubbabel the father of Abiud, and Abiud the father of Eliakim, and Eliakim the father of Azor, 14 and Azor the father of Zadok, and Zadok the father of Achim, and Achim the father of Eliud, 15 and Eliud the father of Eleazar, and Eleazar the father of Matthan, and Matthan the father of Jacob, 16 and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah.[g]

17 So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David to the deportation to Babylon, fourteen generations; and from the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah,[h] fourteen generations.

The Birth of Jesus the Messiah

18 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah[i] took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. 

Worship at Old Stone Well Farm

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A Celtic Advent

I was so intrigued — and excited — when I learned recently about the Celtic Advent, which starts on November 15. I love the season of Advent, but four weeks just never seems like enough time to fully embrace it, especially how Christmas festivities from decorating to caroling to shopping for presents overshadow the simplicity and joyful somberness (yes, joyful somberness) of Advent. There was a time when Advent mirrored Lent in that it was a full 40 days of preparing for Christ’s birth.

So, with our Scripture lesson from Titus — one of Paul’s three epistles written in 63 A.D. — I invite you to start a new tradition with me this year. I invite you to an early Advent.

Blessings, Pastor Donna

Titus 2:11-13 (New Revised Standard Version)

11 For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all, 12 training us to renounce impiety and worldly passions, and in the present age to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly, 13 while we wait for the blessed hope and the manifestation of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ. 

Worship at Old Stone Well Farm

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The idea of returning to the lost art of mending has been on my mind for a while now, but this week it just seemed so perfect to talk to you about it and imagine our spiritual needles and thread stitching what is ripped in our lives — and our country.

And so with God’s Word speaking to us through Ecclesiastes 3, who tells us to everything there is a season, we explore entering a season of learning how to sew/how to mend all that is torn.

This video was filmed before the election was called, so there is a moment where I mention the votes were still being counted. It was my parents who called me with the good news as I was editing our worship service. As I cried, I realized my tears of joy were being joined by those who cried tears of sadness. And while I might not understand those tears, I need to respect those tears as we turn our eyes to God. Now is the time to love, to listen, to respect, to sew.

My faith was faltering, but this week I realized something: No matter how far we fall from God, God is gracious, reaching out His arm to lift us back up. Let us reach back for that Divine hand.

Let us worship! Blessings, Pastor Donna

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (New Revised Standard Version)
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

Stress, Self-Care and Saving Grace

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By Donna Frischknecht Jackson

This country pastor has been quiet this election week: quiet, stressed, heartbroken, anxious, hopeful. I had no idea so many emotions could show up all that same time, but show up they did.

I must say, it has been tiring this election week. But unlike many of my ministry colleagues, I didn’t schedule vacation time. I should have, because getting work done has proven futile. It’s now the end of the week and nothing has been scratched off of my to-do list, which only adds to the stress swirling all around me.

No, I wasn’t mindful in creating self-care rituals for this week. I didn’t schedule any time to do something joyful for my soul. I had every intention to churn some butter in my 18th reproduction butter churn. That always makes me feel better. I waited too long, though, and my churning therapy went right down the drain with the curdled cream.

I was also going to take an online yoga class. Light a candle and allow my body and soul to melt into a beautiful oblivion. That didn’t happen either. Instead, every night this week I pried myself from my desk — accomplishing nothing — to go for run, forgetting that daylight savings time had ended. A dark wooded trail is a great motivator in turning your leisurely run into a frantic sprint. With every rustle and crunch of leaves, I envisioned the worst: a bear, a coy dog — Big Foot? (Don’t laugh. A rural town just over the Vermont border claims to be home to Big Foot, even holding a Big Foot festival every summer.) No, not even my time of exercise could qualify as self-care.

I was far from kind to myself. I was especially harsh to racing mind, yelling at it to focus. “What’s wrong with you, mind? Work. Be productive,” I would tell it. It didn’t help. If anything it made my mind huff away. It was not good because this was the week I was faced with several self-imposed impossible deadlines. I thought if I challenged myself, and if I met them, I would feel better. I would feel in control. I would have a sense of accomplishment. You can guess what happened. I failed miserably. Oh, and my mind is still giving me the silent treatment.

This morning, though, I struggled to get my worn out body out of bed early. I wanted to see the sun rise. Bleary-eyed and achy, I made a cup of coffee and sat on my old stone well. I watched, and I listened. I listened to God speak in the sound of a bird, in the honking of geese flying low and in the ardent moo’s of my neighbor’s cows wanting to get to the field that promised them their breakfast. And then it happened. The faintest of light emerged and grew stronger as the sun’s rays yawned and stretched over the hills.

It’s been a stressful election week, and the stress is not over — nor is the healing work this country needs to do. I never thought I would say I live in a United States that is not united, but here I am — and here is the sun still rising, and here is God still speaking, and here is grace still saving us.

For those who worship virtually with me at Old Stone Well Farm, this morning I couldn’t help but to sing the song from our time together two weeks ago…

I can see a light that is shining for the heart that holds on...

For the first time in weeks, months, dare I admit these past few years, I find my faltering faith steadying…”And the light shines in darkness; and the darkness cannot overcome it.” John 1:5

My heart is holding on.

A light shining on the Vermont trail I run on. Yes, that is snow.

Worship at Old Stone Well Farm

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How did it get to be Nov. 1 already? But here we are. Today, we honor the saints in our lives, and I share a story of one particular saint who instilled in me faith in God.

Who is/was the saint in your life who inspired, encouraged, modeled trust in God? I would love to hear your saint stories.

Email me at accidentalcountrypastor@gmail.com.

Let us now prepare for worship! Blessings, Pastor Donna

Matthew 5:1-12

When Jesus[a] saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely[b] on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.