by David Madsen When I was eighteen, I made a private commitment that has shaped my life for sixty six years: I would follow Jesus whether he “saved” me or not. After growing up in a Pentecostal fundamentalist church, especially as the “ornery” preacher’s kid who needed to get saved every time an evangelist came through town, I no longer trusted my own salvation. I could be saved on Sunday morning and convinced I was going to hell by Wednesday night. So I made a quiet promise: I will follow Jesus, even if it is one sided. A few months later I was living with my family in Dodge City, Kansas. My father pastored a small church on a single lane road shared only with the rectory, about 200 yards apart, tucked beside the city golf course. It was an ordinary place, but something extraordinary happened there. Most evenings, I slipped into the church alone. No music. No preaching. No altar call. Just silence. I didn’t go there to pray the way I had been taught. I went to listen. And in that quiet, something began to happen that I had no language for. I would lie on my back near the altar and wait. And God came. Not in words or visions, but in a presence so full I sometimes wondered if I could bear it. Night after night for nearly two weeks, the same overwhelming nearness returned. I had never been taught about anything like this. If I had tried to explain it to the Pentecostal world I grew up in, they would have looked at me like I was from another planet. Years later, I found writers who helped me understand what had happened. Rudolf Otto used the word numinous to describe the holy not as moral purity but as overpowering mystery, the “mysterium tremendum”, the experience that shakes a person to the core.¹ William James wrote that true religious experience begins with those who encounter the unseen world firsthand, distinguishing it from “second hand religion,” the beliefs people inherit through tradition.² What happened to me in Dodge City was firsthand. It was uninvited, unstructured, unearned. It was God finding me in the quiet when I had finally stopped trying to save myself. I have carried those nights with me for sixty six years. They did not make me perfect or certain or immune to doubt. But they gave me a center a quiet place inside where God still meets me, without requirements, without fear, without the need to prove anything. And if someone today finds themselves confused or overwhelmed by what they’re experiencing, I want them to know this: sometimes the deepest spiritual moments arrive without instruction, without permission, and without a name. Sometimes the holiest thing you can do is simply lie still and let God find you. Two things that have shaped my life through experience with the unknown: • God is everywhere. There is nowhere “outside” of God’s presence. • And the Spirit is always more; more than words, more than any attempts to define the Holy. So I don’t fear the unknown. It’s already filled with God. And I don’t limit my understanding of the Spirit. She’s already moving beyond my borders. Father Dave+
It’s been on my mind lately to not only prepare my heart and mind for Sunday morning worship but io carry that early morning tranquility into the preservice atmosphere of St. Barnabas. Every Sunday begins the same way for me: morning prayers with Naomi, followed by one of the quiet videos that helps us get settled into the day. The one example I will share with you today is just one way of practicing this use of time and space. My problem lately is getting to church and allowing all sorts of church business and problems to destroy the atmosphere. The distracted mind affects everything, worship, liturgy, sermon, Lords Table and Coffee hour. Our morning atmosphere sets the tone for the entire day. By intentionally bringing a peaceful temperament into our early hours, we create a sanctuary of restfulness, not just for ourselves, but for everyone we encounter. Reclaiming this quiet time beautifully prepares our hearts for worship. And sometimes we need to just drop in and see what condition our condition is in. Time to tune our hearts to be in tune with the Spirit. “God is Spirit and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4:24). I will include one example of how I prepare my mind and spirit for Sunday morning worship. This is just one suggestion. You may have others to include. If so, please let me know. Try anchoring your morning with Gregorian chant. allow Illumination by Dan Gibson’s Solitudes blending historic Latin chants with calming sounds of God’s creation. While these chants carry rich scholastic history, my takeaway is pastoral, quieting my mind and turning my focus toward the divine. Here’s one option: This Sunday early morning light a candle, maybe a stick of incense, and let sacred sounds fill your home as you prepare for church. Arrive at St. Barnabas already tuned into God’s peace by opening the peaceful Gregorian Chants album on YouTube. Father Dave+
by Fr. Michael Plekon Finding Faith, Belonging and Purpose Beyond Sunday Services By: Fr Michael Plekon - St. Barnabas Episcopal Church , BMA Co-Chair I am not surprised that in 2026 there are those who ask such questions. My parents were in church with me and my brothers when we were growing up in the 1950s and after. (I am in my later 70s!) I have been involved in the institutional church since I was 13 and went to church prep school, looking toward being a priest. And now I have been a priest for almost 45 years, in several church bodies. Presently I am an assistant priest at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church here in Borrego Springs. When we are back East, I help out at St. James Church, an historic stone church in the old downtown of Danbury CT, once the hat making capital of the US. Years ago when I began ordained ministry alongside being a fulltime professor at The City University of New York, there were a lot of people in church on Sundays, families with kids, as well as older people. Nowadays, it’s mostly my peers, seniors, who I see on Sundays at the service, and also engaged in the community outreach work churches do, from food banks to soup kitchens, thrift shops, and support of safe housing for mothers and children. Many I encounter tell me they grew up in the church. And then grew out of it, for all kinds of reasons. Some found what they heard in sermons repulsive, a lot of negativity and condemnation and rules. In addition, they felt churches were constantly asking for your money, when not scaring you with threats of hell. And did any good come of all those contributions? Some of the most generous and engaged neighbors of mine here have said that they found little to attract them to church. Others simply were too busy, first when they worked and later when retired they were even busier with volunteering, hobbies, golf, travel and more. What’s fascinating is that for quite a few people in Borrego, the food banks, the Community Resource Center and its programs, volunteer work like tutoring and other great things they were doing had become “church” for them. I have published about this, Community as Church, Church as Community, Ministry Matters , and soon to be published Community and Communion. Those who know me even a little know I don’t chase people to church or judge them if they’re not interested. This is the case with the other fine pastors here such as Fr. David Madsen, Pastor Mateo Mamea and Fr. Emilio Mangana, all of whom work with me at the congregations on Church Lane and in the Borrego Ministers Association (BMA). Once, after listening to someone’s honest complaints about religious narrow mindedness and almost hateful intolerance, I replied that he would not find any of that on Church Lane. Rather, anyone will find welcome and acceptance and friendship there. Which brings me back to the question that’s the title here. Those who volunteer, for example, at the monthly St. Barnabas sponsored food bank or the BMA do not all attend services with St. Barnabas, Borrego United Methodist, St. Richard’s or the Lutheran churches or other ones. However, they do identify with the love for the neighbor that all of our food banks and the BMA monthly food coupons express. I can say that we have had people come and sing with our choir at St. Barnabas without joining the church. Same is true for those who come out to the choirs assembled for the BMA Thanksgiving and Easter Sunrise services and the Christmas Cantata when it’s performed. I know that people come to all of our Church Lane congregations because they find there real community and belonging, others who have compassion and are happy to share their resources for those who are in need. This especially happens through the BMA, but as well through the Community Resource Center, the Soroptimists, BASIC, Rotary, the BAI, Valley Endowment Fund and Art Guild, among our wonderful nonprofits. It’s true that when you meet someone who gives of themselves and their resources in any of these groups and the churches, you will see them again and again across the activities of these nonprofits. I hear someone reading this saying, “Ah, but don’t you have creeds and teachings, readings from the scripture and holy communion and other specifically religious activities in church?” Well of course the churches do. These are ancient ways of expressing faith, praying for those who are ill, in need, ways of celebrating births, marriages and deaths as well.” No one is interrogated however on their belief or on anything else in our communities of faith. Rather, everyone is a sister or brother to be loved and supported. Back during lockdown, zoom classes I offered were attended by people who otherwise had little if anything to do with church. What good are they, churches, what are they for? I believe if you’ve followed what I ‘ve said here, you could say they are for building up and sustaining community, for doing good, for the good of the entire town. And God, for whom these communities exist would agree. Authorial Interview: Fr. Michael Plekon Michael Plekon / Pastors, Their Life and Work Today Saints As They Really Are
by David Madsen When I was eighteen, I made a private commitment that has shaped my life for sixty six years: I would follow Jesus whether he “saved” me or not. After growing up in a Pentecostal fundamentalist church, especially as the “ornery” preacher’s kid who needed to get saved every time an evangelist came through town, I no longer trusted my own salvation. I could be saved on Sunday morning and convinced I was going to hell by Wednesday night. So I made a quiet promise: I will follow Jesus, even if it is one sided. A few months later I was living with my family in Dodge City, Kansas. My father pastored a small church on a single lane road shared only with the rectory, about 200 yards apart, tucked beside the city golf course. It was an ordinary place, but something extraordinary happened there. Most evenings, I slipped into the church alone. No music. No preaching. No altar call. Just silence. I didn’t go there to pray the way I had been taught. I went to listen. And in that quiet, something began to happen that I had no language for. I would lie on my back near the altar and wait. And God came. Not in words or visions, but in a presence so full I sometimes wondered if I could bear it. Night after night for nearly two weeks, the same overwhelming nearness returned. I had never been taught about anything like this. If I had tried to explain it to the Pentecostal world I grew up in, they would have looked at me like I was from another planet. Years later, I found writers who helped me understand what had happened. Rudolf Otto used the word numinous to describe the holy not as moral purity but as overpowering mystery, the “mysterium tremendum”, the experience that shakes a person to the core.¹ William James wrote that true religious experience begins with those who encounter the unseen world firsthand, distinguishing it from “second hand religion,” the beliefs people inherit through tradition.² What happened to me in Dodge City was firsthand. It was uninvited, unstructured, unearned. It was God finding me in the quiet when I had finally stopped trying to save myself. I have carried those nights with me for sixty six years. They did not make me perfect or certain or immune to doubt. But they gave me a center a quiet place inside where God still meets me, without requirements, without fear, without the need to prove anything. And if someone today finds themselves confused or overwhelmed by what they’re experiencing, I want them to know this: sometimes the deepest spiritual moments arrive without instruction, without permission, and without a name. Sometimes the holiest thing you can do is simply lie still and let God find you. Two things that have shaped my life through experience with the unknown: • God is everywhere. There is nowhere “outside” of God’s presence. • And the Spirit is always more; more than words, more than any attempts to define the Holy. So I don’t fear the unknown. It’s already filled with God. And I don’t limit my understanding of the Spirit. She’s already moving beyond my borders. Father Dave+
It’s been on my mind lately to not only prepare my heart and mind for Sunday morning worship but io carry that early morning tranquility into the preservice atmosphere of St. Barnabas. Every Sunday begins the same way for me: morning prayers with Naomi, followed by one of the quiet videos that helps us get settled into the day. The one example I will share with you today is just one way of practicing this use of time and space. My problem lately is getting to church and allowing all sorts of church business and problems to destroy the atmosphere. The distracted mind affects everything, worship, liturgy, sermon, Lords Table and Coffee hour. Our morning atmosphere sets the tone for the entire day. By intentionally bringing a peaceful temperament into our early hours, we create a sanctuary of restfulness, not just for ourselves, but for everyone we encounter. Reclaiming this quiet time beautifully prepares our hearts for worship. And sometimes we need to just drop in and see what condition our condition is in. Time to tune our hearts to be in tune with the Spirit. “God is Spirit and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4:24). I will include one example of how I prepare my mind and spirit for Sunday morning worship. This is just one suggestion. You may have others to include. If so, please let me know. Try anchoring your morning with Gregorian chant. allow Illumination by Dan Gibson’s Solitudes blending historic Latin chants with calming sounds of God’s creation. While these chants carry rich scholastic history, my takeaway is pastoral, quieting my mind and turning my focus toward the divine. Here’s one option: This Sunday early morning light a candle, maybe a stick of incense, and let sacred sounds fill your home as you prepare for church. Arrive at St. Barnabas already tuned into God’s peace by opening the peaceful Gregorian Chants album on YouTube. Father Dave+
by Fr. Michael Plekon Finding Faith, Belonging and Purpose Beyond Sunday Services By: Fr Michael Plekon - St. Barnabas Episcopal Church , BMA Co-Chair I am not surprised that in 2026 there are those who ask such questions. My parents were in church with me and my brothers when we were growing up in the 1950s and after. (I am in my later 70s!) I have been involved in the institutional church since I was 13 and went to church prep school, looking toward being a priest. And now I have been a priest for almost 45 years, in several church bodies. Presently I am an assistant priest at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church here in Borrego Springs. When we are back East, I help out at St. James Church, an historic stone church in the old downtown of Danbury CT, once the hat making capital of the US. Years ago when I began ordained ministry alongside being a fulltime professor at The City University of New York, there were a lot of people in church on Sundays, families with kids, as well as older people. Nowadays, it’s mostly my peers, seniors, who I see on Sundays at the service, and also engaged in the community outreach work churches do, from food banks to soup kitchens, thrift shops, and support of safe housing for mothers and children. Many I encounter tell me they grew up in the church. And then grew out of it, for all kinds of reasons. Some found what they heard in sermons repulsive, a lot of negativity and condemnation and rules. In addition, they felt churches were constantly asking for your money, when not scaring you with threats of hell. And did any good come of all those contributions? Some of the most generous and engaged neighbors of mine here have said that they found little to attract them to church. Others simply were too busy, first when they worked and later when retired they were even busier with volunteering, hobbies, golf, travel and more. What’s fascinating is that for quite a few people in Borrego, the food banks, the Community Resource Center and its programs, volunteer work like tutoring and other great things they were doing had become “church” for them. I have published about this, Community as Church, Church as Community, Ministry Matters , and soon to be published Community and Communion. Those who know me even a little know I don’t chase people to church or judge them if they’re not interested. This is the case with the other fine pastors here such as Fr. David Madsen, Pastor Mateo Mamea and Fr. Emilio Mangana, all of whom work with me at the congregations on Church Lane and in the Borrego Ministers Association (BMA). Once, after listening to someone’s honest complaints about religious narrow mindedness and almost hateful intolerance, I replied that he would not find any of that on Church Lane. Rather, anyone will find welcome and acceptance and friendship there. Which brings me back to the question that’s the title here. Those who volunteer, for example, at the monthly St. Barnabas sponsored food bank or the BMA do not all attend services with St. Barnabas, Borrego United Methodist, St. Richard’s or the Lutheran churches or other ones. However, they do identify with the love for the neighbor that all of our food banks and the BMA monthly food coupons express. I can say that we have had people come and sing with our choir at St. Barnabas without joining the church. Same is true for those who come out to the choirs assembled for the BMA Thanksgiving and Easter Sunrise services and the Christmas Cantata when it’s performed. I know that people come to all of our Church Lane congregations because they find there real community and belonging, others who have compassion and are happy to share their resources for those who are in need. This especially happens through the BMA, but as well through the Community Resource Center, the Soroptimists, BASIC, Rotary, the BAI, Valley Endowment Fund and Art Guild, among our wonderful nonprofits. It’s true that when you meet someone who gives of themselves and their resources in any of these groups and the churches, you will see them again and again across the activities of these nonprofits. I hear someone reading this saying, “Ah, but don’t you have creeds and teachings, readings from the scripture and holy communion and other specifically religious activities in church?” Well of course the churches do. These are ancient ways of expressing faith, praying for those who are ill, in need, ways of celebrating births, marriages and deaths as well.” No one is interrogated however on their belief or on anything else in our communities of faith. Rather, everyone is a sister or brother to be loved and supported. Back during lockdown, zoom classes I offered were attended by people who otherwise had little if anything to do with church. What good are they, churches, what are they for? I believe if you’ve followed what I ‘ve said here, you could say they are for building up and sustaining community, for doing good, for the good of the entire town. And God, for whom these communities exist would agree. Authorial Interview: Fr. Michael Plekon Michael Plekon / Pastors, Their Life and Work Today Saints As They Really Are
