First Congregational Church of Southington

This week, we welcome the Reverend Leslie Jackson to the pulpit of First Congregational Church. Since late last year, Rev. Jackson has served as the Area Conference minister for the South Central Region of the SNEUCC, of which we are a part. As an ACM, Rev. Jackson supports clergy, congregations, and associations of the Region as they live out the love and justice of Jesus in their communities. He works closely with Committees on Ministry, supporting their leadership within seven Associations and guiding congregations through the search and call process with strategic insight and steady accompaniment. Over the past decade, Rev. Jackson has served as a pastor, preacher, and justice advocate in Houston and New Orleans. His work includes nonprofit collaboration, interfaith engagement, and board service with organizations across Texas. His ministry centers on justice, transformation, and helping communities rise with hope.

Jesus wept. ~John 11:35 It’s the shortest verse in the Bible—the first scripture verse I memorized—and perhaps the most important one I’ll ever remember. Jesus wept. When his friend Lazarus was sick, Jesus did not come right away. When he finally comes, he asks Martha an odd question.  “Do you believe in resurrection?”  Martha says she believes, but true to the Gospel of John training plan, she misunderstands. She believes in resurrection on the last day, but Lazarus has been dead in the tomb for four days.  As the coroner in the Wizard of Oz says, “he’s not only merely dead, he's really most sincerely dead.”   But there is a part of this story that has always amazed me.  It is verse 35, “Jesus wept.”  At least that’s what old King James says.  Our translation says, “Jesus began to weep.”  Either way, it is the shortest verse in the Bible. I have come to believe, over 40 plus years of ministry, that it is also one of the most important verses in the Bible. But why did Jesus weep when he knew that Lazarus would live again? I will suggest in my sermon on Sunday morning, borrowing a phrase from my friend, the Rev. Mary Luti, that Jesus knew if you don’t learn to weep, you can’t be a good Christian.  And so, Jesus weeps, to show us how.

The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. ~John 9:30-31 This Sunday, we will read a story from the Gospel of John that unfolds like a one-act play, complete with a surprisingly large cast of characters. The story opens with a question about sin and closes with accusations of sin—but sin is not the point. The disciples ask Jesus, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answers, neither—and then invites us to look more closely. If we are willing to see, we may just glimpse the glory of God. What follows is a heated theological dispute, with competing certainties on all sides. But on Sunday, I won’t be taking sides in that argument—because Jesus doesn’t. Jesus is not interested in winning debates, but in revealing God’s glory and doing God’s will. That is where we will place our focus together, and I invite you to join me in that discernment.

Searching for living water “The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?’” ~John 4:11 This Sunday, worship invites us into a conversation: one that happens around a well, in the middle of an ordinary day. In John 4, Jesus meets a woman who has come simply to draw water. What she doesn’t expect is to be transformed by an encounter with a stranger. Jesus doesn’t rush her. He doesn’t lecture. He starts with a simple request and then offers something deeper: living water. This is a story about thirst in all its forms. The kind we feel in our bodies, yes; but also the thirst for belonging, for dignity, for a life that feels whole. Jesus names that longing gently and promises a water that does not run out, a grace that keeps flowing even when our own wells feel dry. We’ll experience this story through a Readers Theater, hearing the dialogue unfold through several voices. As the story is shared, we’re invited to listen and imagine ourselves at the well, overhearing the conversation, maybe even recognizing our own questions and hopes in the woman’s words. If you’re feeling weary, curious, hopeful, or unsure… there is room for you in this story. Come and listen for the living water Jesus offers, flowing freely, offered without condition. Come to the well. All are welcome.

Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” ~John 3:3 The King James Version of the Bible translates John 3.3 as “Ye must be born again.” Some understand Jesus’ teaching as a command, something one must do to be a Christian. Sometimes this verse in the third chapter of John becomes a label that puts Christians into categories rather than a miracle that binds all followers of Jesus Christ together in a community of faith, which I believe was Jesus’ intent.  Even though I grew up in a church where the importance of being born again was stressed each week. I see it a bit differently now. I have come to believe that being born again is something that happens to every Christian. I am equally convinced that neither you nor I can do anything to cause this rebirth. That’s what we will talk about on Sunday morning.

Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, with the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables.. ~John 2:15 Have you ever seen Jesus this mad? He is livid! All four gospels record the story of Jesus driving the animals out of the temple and overturning the tables of the money changers. But in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus cleans out the temple after Palm Sunday, just before his death. He has listened to religious leaders take their jabs at him for months, trying to find ways to trap and discredit him. I understand his anger then. He makes a whip, overturns tables, pours out coins, and runs the sheep and cattle out of the temple. It makes sense there. The people haven’t listened to Jesus. He sees the path to the cross in front of him. His actions force the religious leaders’ hand. But John tells us about it at the beginning of the Gospel, right after Jesus has left a wedding party where he turned water into wine! He hasn’t said anything to anyone yet. They don’t really know what he is up to yet. But he clears the merchants out of the temple anyway. And is he mad! Why? That is the question we will explore on Sunday morning.

“The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” ~ John 1:29 What if faith were something we practiced — stretched, strengthened, and returned to week after week? This Sunday we begin a new, extended journey through the Gospel of John, approaching it not as a quick read but as a kind of training plan for discipleship. Over the coming months, we’ll study a new portion of the Gospel of John each Sunday in worship. This is our fourth year in the Narrative Lectionary. We have studied the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke. Now we get to dive into the Gospel of John, one of the most poetic and mysterious of the gospels. It’s fitting that we begin with John the Baptist’s opening witness, where he refuses the spotlight and instead points beyond himself. “I am not the Messiah,” he says. John the Baptist didn’t seek out attention or glory. This story invites us to consider how our faith inspires us to look, to listen, and how to recognize Christ in our midst. Many years ago, I trained for my first half marathon race. Attempting to run a big race, like 13.1 miles for a half-marathon, requires a plan. There were about 16 weeks in the plan of specific runs I needed to do before race day. I had never run that far in my life! The training plan gave me a sense of comfort by breaking down the big goal into something smaller. Week by week, I faithfully completed my training runs and saw my weekly mileage grow. When race day arrived, I still had some nerves, but I had the confidence of knowing that I had trained well and arrived as prepared as possible to do a new thing. Like any good training plan, this season studying the Gospel of John will invite curiosity, commitment, and practice. I hope we will grow in our faith through worship and discerning how God is still speaking!

“When they had heard the king, they set out, and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen in the east until it stopped over the place where the child was.” ~ Matthew 2:9 Epiphany is not just about a star in the sky—it’s about the courage to begin a journey without knowing exactly where it will lead. The Magi didn’t start with certainty. They started with curiosity and a willingness to follow a small glimmer of hope through unfamiliar territory. That star didn’t shout directions. It didn’t overwhelm the night. It simply moved—slowly, faithfully—inviting those who were watching closely to keep going. Along the way, the Magi asked questions, made mistakes, took detours, and still trusted that God was at work in the unfolding. On Epiphany Sunday at FCC, we celebrate the ways God continues to meet us like that: not always with blazing certainty, but with quiet guidance—nudges of wisdom, moments of clarity, invitations to pay attention. Receiving a star gift is not about prediction or destiny. It’s about presence. It’s a reminder that God’s light often shows up just enough for the next step. Where might God be inviting you to follow this year?

On Christmas Eve, we gather to celebrate the birth of Christ and the light of God’s love among us.

For you shall go out in joy     and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you     shall burst into song,     and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.. ~Isaiah 55:12 The four traditional themes of the four Sundays of Advent are: hope, peace, joy and love. This Sunday we celebrate joy! The beautiful poetry of Isaiah 55 invites us to notice the ways that joy surrounds us in nature.  One of my favorite writers is Ross Gay. He has authored several books of poetry and essays. One is titled, “Inciting Joy.” He writes about how joy is an ember and joy is inherently relational. He reminds us that joy comes from connection. What a natural celebration of church and the ways we are connected to each other!

The Christmas season can be joyful, but it can also be tender and difficult—especially for those carrying grief, loss, or heavy memories. If you’re needing a quiet space this season, a moment to breathe, or a place to honor loved ones, we invite you to join us for our annual Service of Healing & Remembrance. This gentle, reflective service offers: Quiet music, A message of hope, A chance to write names of loved ones on doves, Candle lighting to guide our way toward Christmas All are welcome—whether you’re grieving, supporting someone who is, or simply needing a peaceful night in the midst of a busy season. The service will also be livestreamed for those unable to attend in person. You are not alone. 

Thus says the Lord God to these [dry] bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. ~Ezekiel 37:5 Israel was in exile.  Nearly 600 years before the birth of Christ, the world power at the time, Babylon, conquered Jerusalem.  The educated class from Jerusalem was deported, and Ezekiel, a young priest, was among those exiles.  Being ripped from their homes in Jerusalem was difficult for all of them, but can you imagine what it would have been like for a young priest?   To be forced to leave the Temple, God’s dwelling place, and wrenched away from the holy city—it is like being cut off completely from God.  As Psalm 137 laments, “How are we to sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?” Christmas is coming. Some feel in a kind of exile as the day of Christ’s birth approaches. How can we sing the Lord’s song in this foreign land? In times of division or uncertainty, many may feel estranged or out of place in their own communities or nation, as if exiles in a land that no longer reflects their values or hopes. Yet, the prophecy of Ezekiel assures us that God has not abandoned us. As Christmas approaches, I will use the lens of Ezekiel’s prophecy about “dem dry bones” to explore where we might find Christmas hope this year.

But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.  ~Jeremiah 29:7 I think about being an exile sometimes.  Oh, you are kind to tell me I fit in here in the land of the Yankees, in the geographical sense, not the baseball sense, but I know you know that I’m a southerner at heart—always will be. Don’t get me wrong, I love New England—but my heart will always be held in the majestic blue ridges of the North Carolina mountains. God’s people have always been familiar with exile.  The very first people we meet in the Bible, Adam and Eve, end up being exiled from paradise.  Noah comes next, and he winds up on an ark.  Abraham and Sarah travel halfway across the known world to a land that God promised to their descendants.  They were exiles their entire lives.  Abraham and Sarah’s descendants ended up in exile in Egypt. And we haven’t even gotten through the first two books of the Bible! Maybe exile isn’t always a bad thing.  Maybe, in exile, God’s plan for a future with hope is revealed. We’ll explore that future on Sunday morning.