A MESSAGE FROM BISHOP SUSAN: A CALL TO PRAYER

Honoring Our Legacy, Embracing Our Future Dear friends of St. Barnabas, These past few months have been a tender and difficult season for our parish family. We have said goodbye to five beloved members—people whose leadership, kindness, and steady presence helped shape the very soul of this congregation. Their absence is felt deeply. Their legacy is woven into everything we are. And yet, even in the midst of this grief, I invite you to notice what God is doing among us. While we mourn those who have gone before us, we have also welcomed many new faces this past year. Our community is growing with fresh energy, new perspectives, and a renewed hunger for faith and connection. This beautiful blend of longtime members and newcomers is exactly how a parish family heals, adapts, and moves forward. Grieving and welcoming are not opposites. They are two parts of the same holy rhythm. We honor the legacy of those we’ve lost by becoming the open-hearted, vibrant community they helped build and loved so dearly. As your rector and pastor, I encourage you to keep looking forward with hope. The saints we lost would want nothing more than to see St. Barnabas continue to thrive. Let us open our hearts to those joining our journey, and keep stepping forward together in faith, hope, and love.  Blessings, Father David Madsen St. Barnabas Episcopal Church

Pentecost is often called the birthday of the Church, and that’s true enough. But birthdays are about beginnings, not endings—and Pentecost was never meant to stay trapped in the first century like a candle on an old cake. Pentecost is not a memory. It’s the season we live in now. The Season of the Spirit. The long stretch of ordinary days made extraordinary because God refuses to leave us to our own devices.  So what does it mean to live in the Season of the Spirit? In the Gospel of John, Jesus gives his friends a promise that is both tender and disruptive: “I will send the Holy Spirit to you.” Not a ghostly idea, not a theological footnote, but a presence. A Comforter. An Advocate. Someone who has your back when the world leans hard against you. Jesus tells them the Spirit will open their eyes and ears, not by giving them a whole new set of teachings, but by deepening the ones they already have. The Spirit doesn’t replace Jesus—he reveals him. Jesus is essentially saying: You’re not ready yet, but you will be. You don’t understand yet, but you will. And you won’t get there alone. The Spirit will walk with you. The Spirit will open your mind. The Spirit will make the words of Jesus come alive—not as information, but as transformation. And then John adds the part we often skip over: this way of life won’t be easy. Following Jesus into a world that resists justice, mercy, and truth never is. You will meet resistance when you stand against injustice. You will feel pressure when you speak up for the vulnerable. You will be stretched, pressed, and sometimes misunderstood. But you will not be alone. Pentecost is the reminder—and the ongoing reality—that God’s presence is not behind us in a story, but beside us in the struggle. The Spirit is not a one-day miracle. The Spirit is the daily breath of a God who refuses to give up on us. So yes, the Spirit is in the churches, right? We all know that. But is the Holy Spirit limited to churches? Let me address that in a larger context. Is the Holy Spirit limited to four walls? God is in the church, not the four walls. That is important, and where we have Sunday services, we do funerals, weddings and special events, and so much more, so I do not want to downplay the message of the buildings and grounds of our churches. You all know my message here. The Spirit is in the world. The Spirit is waiting for us in the halls of justice. The Spirit is waiting for us in the public places, food distribution, hospitals and prisons. And wherever God’s children are hurting, and we want to bring healing love to all God’s people. The world is in tatters. All you have to do is read the papers, listen to the news in the mornings, and realize God has work for us to do. But do not tell me it’s not exciting. However the challenge, God’s work is never dull. The Spirit shares this message from John. Jesus said: You have heard my words, you have observed my teaching, and now I am sending a Comforter and mentor to prepare you for this anointing that has been called Pentecost. Open your heart. Open your mind. Open your ears. There’s something happening here, right here where you live and work and minister. Listen to the voice. Listen for directions. As Buffalo Springfield observed the need to stand up for justice: “Something’s happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear… Stop, children, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin’ ’round.” And in the evening, we can take out Psalm 127 and send a prayer, with this Psalmist’s promise at the end of our day: Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain to build it. Unless the Lord keeps the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of sorrow; for He gives His beloved sleep. And here is where it all comes together: If Pentecost is now— if the Spirit is loose in the world— if God is already ahead of us in the places where justice is needed and mercy is scarce— then our work is simply to follow the Spirit into the world by day and entrust the world back to God by night. So may our prayer contain words like: Spirit, lead me. And now let me sleep, for the work is in your hands. For so You give Your beloved sleep.

Honoring Our Legacy, Embracing Our Future Dear friends of St. Barnabas, These past few months have been a tender and difficult season for our parish family. We have said goodbye to five beloved members—people whose leadership, kindness, and steady presence helped shape the very soul of this congregation. Their absence is felt deeply. Their legacy is woven into everything we are. And yet, even in the midst of this grief, I invite you to notice what God is doing among us. While we mourn those who have gone before us, we have also welcomed many new faces this past year. Our community is growing with fresh energy, new perspectives, and a renewed hunger for faith and connection. This beautiful blend of longtime members and newcomers is exactly how a parish family heals, adapts, and moves forward. Grieving and welcoming are not opposites. They are two parts of the same holy rhythm. We honor the legacy of those we’ve lost by becoming the open-hearted, vibrant community they helped build and loved so dearly. As your rector and pastor, I encourage you to keep looking forward with hope. The saints we lost would want nothing more than to see St. Barnabas continue to thrive. Let us open our hearts to those joining our journey, and keep stepping forward together in faith, hope, and love.  Blessings, Father David Madsen St. Barnabas Episcopal Church

Pentecost is often called the birthday of the Church, and that’s true enough. But birthdays are about beginnings, not endings—and Pentecost was never meant to stay trapped in the first century like a candle on an old cake. Pentecost is not a memory. It’s the season we live in now. The Season of the Spirit. The long stretch of ordinary days made extraordinary because God refuses to leave us to our own devices.  So what does it mean to live in the Season of the Spirit? In the Gospel of John, Jesus gives his friends a promise that is both tender and disruptive: “I will send the Holy Spirit to you.” Not a ghostly idea, not a theological footnote, but a presence. A Comforter. An Advocate. Someone who has your back when the world leans hard against you. Jesus tells them the Spirit will open their eyes and ears, not by giving them a whole new set of teachings, but by deepening the ones they already have. The Spirit doesn’t replace Jesus—he reveals him. Jesus is essentially saying: You’re not ready yet, but you will be. You don’t understand yet, but you will. And you won’t get there alone. The Spirit will walk with you. The Spirit will open your mind. The Spirit will make the words of Jesus come alive—not as information, but as transformation. And then John adds the part we often skip over: this way of life won’t be easy. Following Jesus into a world that resists justice, mercy, and truth never is. You will meet resistance when you stand against injustice. You will feel pressure when you speak up for the vulnerable. You will be stretched, pressed, and sometimes misunderstood. But you will not be alone. Pentecost is the reminder—and the ongoing reality—that God’s presence is not behind us in a story, but beside us in the struggle. The Spirit is not a one-day miracle. The Spirit is the daily breath of a God who refuses to give up on us. So yes, the Spirit is in the churches, right? We all know that. But is the Holy Spirit limited to churches? Let me address that in a larger context. Is the Holy Spirit limited to four walls? God is in the church, not the four walls. That is important, and where we have Sunday services, we do funerals, weddings and special events, and so much more, so I do not want to downplay the message of the buildings and grounds of our churches. You all know my message here. The Spirit is in the world. The Spirit is waiting for us in the halls of justice. The Spirit is waiting for us in the public places, food distribution, hospitals and prisons. And wherever God’s children are hurting, and we want to bring healing love to all God’s people. The world is in tatters. All you have to do is read the papers, listen to the news in the mornings, and realize God has work for us to do. But do not tell me it’s not exciting. However the challenge, God’s work is never dull. The Spirit shares this message from John. Jesus said: You have heard my words, you have observed my teaching, and now I am sending a Comforter and mentor to prepare you for this anointing that has been called Pentecost. Open your heart. Open your mind. Open your ears. There’s something happening here, right here where you live and work and minister. Listen to the voice. Listen for directions. As Buffalo Springfield observed the need to stand up for justice: “Something’s happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear… Stop, children, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin’ ’round.” And in the evening, we can take out Psalm 127 and send a prayer, with this Psalmist’s promise at the end of our day: Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain to build it. Unless the Lord keeps the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of sorrow; for He gives His beloved sleep. And here is where it all comes together: If Pentecost is now— if the Spirit is loose in the world— if God is already ahead of us in the places where justice is needed and mercy is scarce— then our work is simply to follow the Spirit into the world by day and entrust the world back to God by night. So may our prayer contain words like: Spirit, lead me. And now let me sleep, for the work is in your hands. For so You give Your beloved sleep.