Daily Lenten Devotion from “The Presbyterian Outlook”
Tuesday, FEBRUARY 23, 2021
PSALM 36:5-9
Psalm 36 is a profound affirmation of God’s unconquered, life-giving power amid the brokenness of our lives and of all of creation — “you save humans and animals alike.” This affirmation is foundational for our prayers throughout the season of Lent. It undergirds the movements of our spirits that we discern — movements both toward God and away from God. It is important to affirm God’s life-giving power even as we recognize movements away from God, because it is especially during experiences
of despair, fear or anxiety that we need this psalm’s assurance of God’s steadfast presence. The promise of resurrection out of death is foundational to our faith as we journey through Lent toward Easter.
Practice: You are invited to pray with Psalm 36:5-9.
Journal: Note what surfaces in your awareness in your journal.
 

The Heart of Mission February 23, 2021   We have dipped our toes into the “in person worship” water. It was wonderful to see those of you who were there! However, if you are not able to be around people, we still have our “flagship” 9 am service online. And, Mindy has set up a wonderful Spirituality Center in the Chapel where individualized prayer and worship can happen in a safe and socially distant way. The pictures above show a little of it. A Reformed understanding of worship is that we worship and glorify God and then we walk out of the doors of the sanctuary into the mission field. What happens inside informs all that we do outside. So, worship and mission go together.   Continuing from last week, I will give you a scripture lesson and some daily mission tasks from the One Great Hour of Sharing material to help focus you on your Lenten journey. You might want to have a small coin bank (Fish bank, First Pres bank) to collect small coins as you do these activities. If you cannot give coins, think about acts of service you can do for others.   There is a lot of mission going on at First Presbyterian Champaign! May your Lenten walk take you exactly where God wants you to be!   Peace,   Rev. Dr. Rachel Matthews, Mission Coordinator     Wednesday, Feb. 24, What did you water for today? Using the map above, find the projects related to water, and say a prayer for each. (See the full map at pcusa.org/oghsmap)   Thursday, Feb. 25, Using the online OGHS map, look at the states where PDA is working. (One right now is Texas!). Read about one near to you and one far away, and make a generous gift for each as you offer a prayer. Friday, Feb. 26, Health is one of our most important needs. The pandemic has made thousands of people sick. Say a prayer for each person your family knows who has had COVID-19. Then offer a prayer for those you do not know.   Saturday, Feb. 27, Find the international locations where PDA is serving. Prayer for these countries and give a gift for each. (This could be a least coin.)   Sunday, Feb. 28, Most people around the world don’t have access to the many varieties of fruit and vegetables we have. Gift one gift for each type of vegetable in your house.             Prayer of the week: Gather us all around your banquet table, O God, with all who hunger and thirst. May we join, together, to share the abundance you’ve intended for all. Amen. Lectionary: Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16, Psalm 22:23-31; Romans 4:13-25; Mark 8:31-38   Monday, March 1, Climate change is forcing farmers worldwide to either adjust their farming methods or move away. Give a gift for each type of animal you saw today. (Goldfish count.)   Tuesday, March 2, Thousands of “front-line” workers risk their lives daily to help those who have COVID-19. Say a prayer for the doctors, nurses and other medical staff who care for the sick.   Other mission activities you can do this week: Make a commitment to adopt a local mission agency that partners with our Community Mission Deacons. Pray for our CMD which meets tonight at 4:30pm over zoom. The list of agencies is at the end of this email.   Join Frontera de Cristo on their Coffee, Conversation and Compassion zoom Thursdays at 6pm.       Join a Presbyterian Women study Thursday morning, afternoon or evening. They are studying Lament. They are zooming and always welcomes visitors. Check the daily email for zoom links.   Pray with Presbyterian Education Board (PEB) in Pakistan and/or join the Pakistan study group which meets every Wednesday afternoon from 1:30-3:00:     And, finally, pray for our sister congregation in Cuba. Our Cuba Steering Committee meets this Thursday at 5:30pm over zoom.   Let us keep all our mission partners in our prayers, those who are waiting to go back to their place of ministry and those who are able to work where they are. Listen for God’s call to you in their ministry.   Our PC(USA) Mission CoWorkers:   Mark Adams and Miriam Maidonado Escobar (Mexico) Farsijanna Adeney-Risakotta (Indonesia) Jeff and Christi Boyd (Central Africa) Bob and Kristi Rice (South Sudan)   Our regional and global mission partners:   Kemmerer Village (and Camp Carew) Lifeline Pilots Marion Medical Mission Mission Aviation Fellowship Opportunity International Friends of Presbyterian Education Board in Pakistan Presbyterian Cuba Partnership Special Offerings of the PC(USA) Theological Education Fund Young Adult Volunteers   Here in Champaign – Urbana:   CU at Home CANAAN S.A.F.E. HOUSE CANTEEN RUN COURAGE CONNECTION DREAAM eMPTY TOMB, INC FAITH IN ACTION JESUS IS THE WAY PRISON MINISTRY THE REFUGEE CENTER RESTORATION URBAN MINISTRY SALT & LIGHT   Here at First Presbyterian Church   FPCC Amateur Preachers FPCC Environmental Committee working with Faith in Place FPCC Presbyterian Women FPCC ESL FPCC Children, Youth and Families FPCC Mission Possible/Go and Serve FPCC Mission Team, World Mission and Community Mission Deacons         302 W. Church Street   Champaign, IL 61820   217-356-7238   info@firstpres.church

Attachments: The_Heart_of_Mission_022321.pdf

Monday, February 22^nd, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
 
To Members and Friends of 
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
 
Dear Friends,
 
In-person worship got off to a sublime start yesterday. When you are ready, sign up by calling the church office, and join us. We are taking all precautions. We are still in a pandemic.
 
* * *
 
CYF will be hosting a Spirituality Center in the church chapel for the season of Lent beginning this Sunday. Open House hours will be Sundays 11am-2:30pm. Come for some quiet reflection time by walking the labyrinth, contemplating scripture, and creating at your own pace. One household will be admitted at a time.

Sunday School continues. Follow this link for a virtual version of the Lenten Spirituality Center Lenten Spirituality Center
 
 
* * *
 
“Labyrinth”
by Matt Matthews
Sunday, February 21^st, 2021
 
I took off my shoes before stepping onto the labyrinth.
 
I took my fat wallet out of my pocket, my keys, my phone, and stuck them in my shoes. I needed to lighten my load to curve around the path drawn on a massive canvas tarp covering the chapel floor. The path led to an empty circle at the center of the wider circle, like a holy flower, such simple, elegant curves.
 
Mindy Watts-Ellis created this Spirituality Center. A few activity stations line the walls. A journaling center. A place to pray prayers, to think thoughts. She has made the chapel an oasis. Her hand-made labyrinth is the big, beating heart of the room. 
 
I left some things behind, but I carried some things with me. I didn’t shed my clothes—my purple dress socks, black suit pants too thin for this climate, purple shirt, purple tie. A pastor’s Lenten uniform. I carried with me the memory of ashes on my forehead, the gritty feel of sin rubbed into the skin of my skin with warm oil that might as well have been the grease of somebody’s blood. I left my wedding ring on. I could have taken off my watch. My late mother gave it to me. I wear it and think of her. Sometimes the crown catches on the edge of my pocket and pops out when I reach for my phone and this heirloom watch stops dead, becoming a dead, tickless weight. My phone keeps perfect time, but I can’t trust that unreliable watch. I laugh about it, and the laughing is the perfect way to remember Mom.
 
My mask has become part of my face and fits like a muzzle, chafing my ears, steaming my glasses, reminding me of contagion, the distances that separate us, the barriers behind which I often hide, the nearly 500,000 dead, and counting. I sometimes forget to wear it. I sometimes forget that it’s on.
 
The pen that Johnnie Ebelein gave me was in my breast pocket. I could have left that in my shoe. She wanted me to have it to sign copies of my first novel. It was her husband’s. I had visited Al at the VA nursing center. I loved making him laugh. His generous smile covered his face and his whole body shook when he laughed. He’d want me to have it, she said. I carried it in my pocket when I preached his funeral. Nothing makes you feel like a novelist like a polished Montblanc. 
 
A few steps into the labyrinth, I realized I should have shed these things. I should have left these encumbrances behind. One pares down for a spiritual journey. One travels light. I learned this by reading the desert fathers and mothers. But even they brought pen and paper and probably some dishes.
 
And my glasses. I didn’t leave them behind in my shoe. My wife has worn glasses since she was six-years-old. Sometimes she accidentally sleeps with them on. I took my glasses off as I made my way slowly around, because I see well enough without them, but I kept them in my hand should I need to thread some needle or distinguish between a comma and a decimal point. This is important when it comes to negotiating salaries and such.
 
I took stock of the things I carried onto that canvas labyrinth, the lent in my pockets, the Tim O’Brien story in my head about the things our young soldiers carried in their heavy packs into the jungles of Vietnam. I carry a silver cross. Since I graduated seminary and Jeff Kellam gave it to me, it hangs on the chain around my neck. I never take it off, especially not for TSA agents, and I didn’t take it off for this journey. I am a man burdened by clothes and glasses, the accoutrements of pandemic and convention, history, the weight of my vocation. Even naked, we bear scars. We carry memory as much as it carries us. These things tip the scale.
 
There’s music piped into hidden speakers, piano music with lots of dissonance. It’s ethereal, but repetitive and it began to grate on me. An image came to mind of a child testing her frustrated motor skills with an eraser rubbing a hole in the page of her homework. Nothing breaks a spiritual vibe like thoughts of homework. 
 
Breathe, I told myself. 
 
Let go. 
 
Transcend. 
 
On one wall, there’s a small fountain trickling over smooth black stones. Cold, grey light illumines the room but dimmed incandescent bulbs add ambience, warm things up. The weather conspired to make the day particularly Lenten. A platter of sand and a tiny rake sit on a nearby table; patterns raked into the sand create the likeness of a sea swirling around an archipelago of small stones. I’ve imagined being shipwrecked on an island like that. The rake changes the shape of the current, and the one who sits long enough with the sand and the rake is changed, also, which is the point. Or, missing the point, he falls asleep on the soft chair with the soft music in the dull light of this empty room.
 
That’s the danger of spiritual things. Not that it leads to sleep, but to dreams, a midnight of the soul. Only people who love God wrestle with God in the night. Only they know that special kind of pain. The wrestling begins in their dreams, and soon spills over into the rest of life, commencing in their commute, in the garden, rolling that heavy stone up that terrible hill again and again and again. The spiritual journey leads us to our knees in prayer, in service, in surrender. It’s a sacred journey, a yellow brick road, a stairway to heaven, a path of glowing coals, a bed of nails. The faithful have marked the path by setting their footprints in the concrete. The encouragements are like bread crumbs. Barbara was here. DS+AS=4ever. Drawn hearts are fixed in the concrete. Rainbows. Handprints. Paw prints. Shining suns and shooting stars. No one knows how to spell out danger or warning or woe. So, they draw a cross, which most of us mistake for a simpler version of a smiley face.
 
Lord have mercy.
 
At the corners of the canvas tarp are tea candles sitting on round mirrors. The candles aren’t real. A battery makes the light shine, makes the flame flicker. And the green palm fronds aren’t real, either. Just plastic. And the cloth bag with silver coins isn’t real. The dime-store coins are plastic. And the crown of thorns is just for looks, and the communion chalice is empty. There’s no bread, not even a plastic loaf, on the paten. One’s faith journey often feels unreal, or surreal, or all-too-real. I just followed my purple socks on that canvas path, followed these curved lines carving a path around and around to an empty center. Real spiritual journeys cut into flesh and bone. Tears and blood are involved. I’m getting off easy in sock feet in this warm chapel.
 
But I’m game for adventure. I work in metaphor and sacrament. And I’m hopeful this journey might yield fruit as journeys are wont to do, relieved that flesh and bone and blood won’t be involved.
 
Labyrinths were set in stone on cathedral floors. There’s not one in Notre Dame, but there is in Chartres. The faithful have wound themselves into the center, and unwound themselves back out saying prayers along the way, losing themselves, gaining Christ, shedding burdens in their mystic perambulation, following their feet. Some pilgrims have been known to crawl the journey. On hands and knees. Close to the ground. That doesn’t guarantee the journey is more significant, only harder on the lower back and don’t forget those knees. No matter how you travel, you won’t get lost on a labyrinth. Walking in one direction, you come to the center. Turn around, and follow your steps in the other direction, you find your exit, or entrance, back into the world. It’s not a maze. You can’t get lost.
 
Unless—you get lost in your thoughts. 
 
I did. I was verily swept away.
 
I looked down. 
 
I took small steps, following my purple socks, winding in. I forget what I was thinking about, but I knew where my feet were. I knew where I was going. 
 
I lost myself in prayer. A Billy Joel lyric slipped into my brain from the song Allentown about what’s real, iron and coke and chromium steel. Reality is a big word. An economic word. Joe Friday had no idea what he was asking when he said, “Just the facts, ma’am.” I slipped back into a prayer. Nothing is more real than prayer, and remember I am a professional.
 
I did not orchestrating these thoughts bouncing around my brain. I simply let them come, and I let them go. I was responsible for following my steps, that’s all. That’s real, too. In my prayers I didn’t bother with big words, mostly just, Oh God. Oh God. I say, Yes, Lord. Yes. Very conversational. The air smells like jasmine and dirt and history and bread and night. It smells familiar. You smell things on labyrinths.
 
Jesus is walking with me. We’re in step. It’s evening. We’re on the way to a garden. He’s quiet, worn. I can’t help him. I can’t carry his load. I don’t want to. I don’t even want to carry my own. I blink. My purple socks lead the way. I’m following them. It’s morning now. There is bright sun. I’m walking with Jesus again. I’m at the edge of a few pedestrians walking down an empty dirt road. It’s warm and I am delighted to be walking through a warm day. Champaign, Illinois, is a million miles away from warm days in February. These companions are arguing religion. Jesus is setting them straight, talking about the Old Testament, reminding them of the stories and the stories about the stories. They are entralled. Jesus is happy. His steps are light, though His companions shuffle heavily. They’re coming home from a crucifixion. His. I won’t let them in on Jesus’ secret. They don’t recognize Him, but I do, my incognito Capital Letter Friend. I’m happy to be walking along. I’m wearing Bermuda shorts and red Nikes over my purple dress socks. The colors clash. They are clad in Bible clothes, their father’s bathrobes, flip flops from the Dollar General. Our companions will recognize Him soon enough in Emmaus, their hearts burning strangely within their chests after He breaks the bread and disappears. 
 
Who knew this labyrinth would take me down this road?
 
Walking the labyrinth in science fiction novels gets you from one world to the next. Characters jump dimensions. I know the feeling. My socked feet remained firmly on the path, but the scenes changed. I’m on the beach behind Frank Henry’s house. We’re twelve-years-old. We’re rigging a sailboat, pulling lines through blocks, tying figure-eights, getting ready to shove off into a nice breeze. Blink. I’m in a church. Blink. I’m with my dad and he’s trudging through snow with much of his division, hands up, terrified, freezing, Germans with rifles pointing them to the road that will take them to prison camps. Blink. I’m sitting on a pew with my sons. Blink. I’m in tears. Blink. Blink. Blink.
 
It’s a labyrinth, I remind myself. I’m safe. 
 
Mindy was sitting in the hallway to welcome other guests. She was the hall monitor. But I was the only one in our Spirituality Center. I was alone with my Sunday thoughts. Alone with the people crowding through my imagination. I was marching with a defeated army. Walking with Jesus on ancient roads. Feet in the sand pushing a Laser sailboat into the harbor on a windy, warm day. If you follow the steps of the Shaker dance, turning, turning, we come our right. Tis a gift to be simple. I trust this dance. I trust the One who walks with me.
 
Not all paths are safe, but this one is. This path is safe. I kept walking, keeping my purple sock feet between the lines marking the path. Time had stopped but my walking had not. You keep moving on a labyrinth. It’s not about speed, but progress. You keep inching forward. 
 
Breathe. 
 
Pray. Be. Listen.
 
Walk. 
 
 
* * *
 
Come try out the labyrinth. Let me know where the journey takes you.
 
P E A C E ,
Matt Matthews
First Presbyterian Church Champaign
A (cool) congregation of the PC(USA)
Church: 217.356.7238; Cell: 864.386.9138
matt@firstpres.church

* * *

Last week’s photo received several guesses, but none correctly identified Linda Sandquist.
The photo challenge will take a break during Lent. We’ll see you in a few weeks!

* * *

Lenten Daily Devotion from “The Presbyterian Outlook”
Monday, FEBRUARY 22, 2021
PSALM 8
Psalm 8 invites us to consider our place in God good’s creation — a lofty place, “a little lower than God.” Though we are not God, the psalmist affirms human dominion over God’s good creation. It is important to note that the word “dominion” does not connote domination, much less exploitation. It conveys, rather, that we are caretakers of God’s creation, who care for it as God does. We play a representative role that carries responsibilities for stewardship on God’s behalf; thus, exploitation is hardly in view. As Clint McCann writes in his essay on Psalms in “The New Interpreter’s Bible,” “God and humans are partners in the care of creation, because God has made a risky choice to share power!” A risky choice indeed!
Practice: Pray this psalm with special attention to our stewardship of
God’s creation.
Journal: As you meditate on this psalm, attend to movements toward
God and away from God that surface in your awareness, and note in a
journal what the psalm evokes.

Friday, February 19^th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
 
Dear Friends, 
 
In Paul Lake’s poem “in Rough Weather”, he’s in a storm, with his brother, in a small boat. He looks back as the boat is on the verge of floundering and all he holds dear, he holds doubly dear. 
 
It’s a beautiful line.
 
That’s how we often feel when we are in a wilderness. We look back on our lives and all we hold dear we hold doubly dear. Have you ever been in a wilderness, feeling lost, sore afraid? 
 
Rachel and I will explore “wilderness” in Sunday’s sermon. 
 
* * *
 
See you Sunday. 
 
PEACE and much love,
 
Matt Matthews
864.386.9138
matt@firstpres.church
 
* * *
 
A suburban wilderness…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3bcBBA9_68
 
More music…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obkrMiyDrbs

* * *
Lenten Daily Devotions from The Presbyterian Outlook
 
Friday, FEBRUARY 19, 2021
JOHN 4:1-14
“Eternal life,” a key concept in John’s Gospel, refers not just to life after death but to a rich quality of life available now in relationship to God in Christ — life that partakes of the goodness and joy of Godlife that is full and enduring. Fullness of life, symbolized by the vivid imagery of living water, is God’s intent for us in the present, as well as the future.
However, many realities can keep us from the fullness that God intends — realities such as fear, anxiety, self-hatred or social conditions of oppression on account of racism, classism or sexism, to name but a few.
Practice: You are invited to pray John 4:1-14 in light of your particular
circumstances. Slowly read the story two or three times and ponder deeply
its images. You might even imagine that you are present at the well in the
story as Jesus converses with the Samaritan woman. What do you observe?
What movements of your spirit and emotions emerge as you ponder this
story? Are they movements toward God such as liberation, hope or joy? Or
movements away from God such as anxiety or even despair?
Journal: Note what surfaces in your prayer with this passage in
your journal.

Saturday, FEBRUARY 20, 2021
ISAIAH 43:1-5
Isaiah 43 is written to exiles in Babylon who long for homecoming, thus it is a potent word for exiles in our own time and place who long for the same. This passage is one of the most powerful expressions of God’s love for Israel – indeed, for all people – in Scripture: “You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.” Isaiah 43 is perhaps especially poignant in our present pandemic moment, when so many are feeling isolated and alone.
Practice: You are invited to read Isaiah 43:1-5 slowly, two or three times,
taking time to meditate on images that most capture your attention. What
do they disclose to you about movement toward God, and away from God, in your life at present?
Journal: Note what surfaces in your journal.

Week 1…
HYMN OF THE WEEK: “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need”
PRAYER FOCUS: Reception — How can I receive God’s forgiveness for my own weaknesses and failures? In what ways is God speaking healing and grace into my heart?
ACTION: Pay attention to creation this week. Go for a walk and observe the Creator’s handiwork. Look out a window and take notice. Look for photos of landscapes in regions far from where you live and give thanks for the beauty and variety of creation.

Sunday, FEBRUARY 21, 2021
PSALM 46:1-11
Psalm 46, one of the most beloved of the Psalter, inspired Martin Luther’s celebrated hymn, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” It articulates deep trust in God amid turmoil and chaos — realities with which we are all too familiar in our current historical moment. There are many ways to pray with this psalm.
Practice: You may wish to follow the practice of reflecting on images that compel you, or you may want to focus on certain lines of the psalm, such
as the words from verse 10: “Be still, and know that I am God.” Suggestion: Repeat these eight words eight times, each time omitting the last word
until you are left only with the word “Be.” This is a powerful, contemplative way to pray this psalm.
Journal: Note in a journal what surfaces in your awareness, what thoughts or emotions are evoked as you engage this Scripture in prayer —
movements toward God or movements away from God. Whichever the case may be, rest assured of the loving presence of God.

Thursday, February 18^th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
 
To Members and Friends of 
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
 
Friends,
 
It was amazingly good to see about a dozen of you yesterday in our first-ever “drive-by” imposition of Ash Wednesday ashes. We all have soooo much to look forward to. 
 
Another few dozen of you were at last night’s Wednesday vespers led artfully by Pastor Eric. 
 
* * *
 
Remember for those of you who feel safe, our in-person worship service will resume on this Sunday at 10:15 in the sanctuary. See below. Please note that snow is in the forecast. The north west door into the parking lot will definitely be open, and we hope a salted path will lead up to it.
 
* * *
 
Here’s a poem that points us to Easter. Consider it as, together, we make our way with Jesus to Jerusalem.
 
Manifesto: The Mad Farmer 
Liberation Front
by Wendell Berry
 
Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion — put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
 
“Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front” from The Country of Marriage, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Inc. 1973. Also published by Counterpoint Press in The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry, 1999; The Mad Farmer Poems, 2008; New Collected Poems, 2012.

* * * 
 
News
 
Please sign up for the book study. (Call the office.) 
 
BOOK STUDY!  You are invited to a congregation-wide four session book study. 
 
WHAT? Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (One World, 2015). A father talks to his fifteen-year-old son about the realities of inhabiting a black body.

• WHEN?  Thursdays, February 18 and 25 and March 4 and 11 at 11:00am to 12:00 noon. 
• HOW? Sign up by emailing or calling Patty Farthing in the church office. We will meet on-line via Zoom. 217.356.7238 /  Patty@firstpres.church . Borrow books from our public library in paper, digital or audio form. 
• WHO? Everyone in our congregation and community is invited. Pastor Matt Matthews will facilitate. Our Compassion, Peace, and Justice Committee/ Spiritual Formation Committee will host.             
• WHY? Jesus asks us to love each other.

* * *
 
Destin Lembelembe, one of our recent high school grads (Urbana, 2019) has a new sales job selling knives and he needs thirty of us to attend his first sales pitch. Rachel and I have agreed to be at his virtual presentation, and I hope some of you will agree, too. His email follows. Be in touch if you’re willing. It’s nice to give our young people a boost when we can. 
 
destinsoccer.lembelembe@gmail.com
 
* * *

In-person Worship begins on February 21^st at 10:15.  After careful discussion and prayerful deliberation, the COVID-19 team and the Session have recommended that we resume limited in-person weekly worship on the First Sunday of Lent, February 21^st at 10:15 a.m.  
 
For those of you who feel safe to attend, please pre-register by calling the church office at 217.356.7238. Registration will run from Monday morning to Thursday noon the week before each service. (We are preregistering not only as a means of contact-tracing, but also to keep attendance at or under fifty [50] people, including worship leaders and ushers. That is the limit prescribed by state public health guidelines.) 
 
Remember, your Session is doing everything it can to keep everyone safe during this season of pandemic. While the end may be in sight with local and statewide numbers trending downward, not everyone is vaccinated yet and Covid-19 is still deadly. Some experts guess our nationwide death toll due to Covid may total over 600,000 by later this Spring.
 
The best way to safeguard against getting Covid is to limit one’s exposure to it and to get vaccinated; while we have prepared as safe a worship environment as possible, and all participants will be required to check in, wear masks at all times, and sit at a distance of six feet from other families, we cannot guarantee that somebody won’t get sick. Those who come to worship come at their own risk.
 
These in-person services will be, essentially, services of welcome, scripture, prayer, and preaching. These brief—40-minutes, or less—services will include no spoken liturgy, no congregational singing, and no choir. The preacher will speak from behind a plexiglass barrier. There will be no indoor fellowship, and no coffee or food service before or after the service.
 
This may not sound like a very welcoming or, even, friendly invitation, does it? You know what I mean. So, make wise decisions for you and your family, stay away if you are high risk or don’t feel well, and know that I look forward to “seeing” some of you online at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday (FirstPres.Live), and others of you face to face at 10:15 a.m. 
 
God is good.
 
* * * 
 
Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter): 
 
From Marilyn Shimkus:

John Travolta tested negative for coronavirus last night. Turns out it
was just Saturday night fever.
 
* * *
 
Good Word (a familiar passage that you’ll hear on Sunday):
 
MARK 1:9-15               
⁹In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. ¹⁰And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. ¹¹And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
 
¹²And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. ¹³He was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
 
                  ¹⁴Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, ¹⁵and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”
 
 LET US PRAY
 
(Thank you, Linda Peterson)

May the blessing of light be on you 
(Scottish Blessing Prayer)
May the blessing of light be on you, light without and light within.
May the blessed sunlight shine on you like a great peat fire, so that stranger and friend may come and warm himself at it.
And may light shine out of the two eyes of you, like a candle set in the window of a house, bidding the wanderer come in out of the storm.
And may the blessing of the rain be on you, may it beat upon your Spirit and wash it fair and clean, and leave there a shining pool where the blue of Heaven shines, and sometimes a star.
And may the blessing of the earth be on you, soft under your feet as you pass along the roads, soft under you as you lie out on it, tired at the end of day; and may it rest easy over you when, at last, you lie out under it.
May it rest so lightly over you that your soul may be out from under it quickly; up and off and on its way to God.
And now may the Lord bless you, and bless you kindly.
 
* * *
 
Much, much love to you all.
 
 Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church

* * *

Lenten Daily Devotional from The Presbyterian Outlook
Thursday, FEBRUARY 18, 2021
ISAIAH 55:1-5
Isaiah 55 invites us to ponder the abundance of life in God, in marked contrast to the scarcity we experience in a world that so often seems short on resources. While in Babylonian captivity, exiled Israelites were faced with the scarcity of basic necessities of life, as are many people around the globe and in our own country, especially amid a pandemic.
Practice: You are invited to pray Isaiah 55:1-5. Ponder deeply the images in
this text and sense the movements toward God and movements away from
God in your life that your reflection evokes. Where is there scarcity in your
life? Where is there abundance?
Journal: Take note in your journal of movements away from God and
movements toward God that surface in your awareness.

Ash Wednesday, February 17^th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
 
To Members and Friends of 
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
 
 Friends,
 
Ash Wednesday kicks off the Season of Lent. The purpose of Lent, said the early church, was to prepare us for Easter. Resurrection, not to mention the grace and horror of “Holy” Week, requires preparation. 
 
I’ve shared two poems with you to get you thinking about Lent, the Old English word for “Spring.” These poems were entries in the writing contest sponsored by Presbyterian Writer’s Guild. The theme was, simply, “ashes.” Ruth Whitney is the grand prize winner with her poem “Ash Season.” Her bio follows the poem. Louie Andrews submitted “Ash Wednesday Redux.” Louie is the son of my beloved childhood minister. There’s never a time in my life that I didn’t know Louie. There’s something comforting about our association. His mom died last year and they, like so many others, have yet to have a memorial service because of pandemic; he wrote this poem with those delayed services (and delayed grief) in mind. 
 
Lent begins with wilderness, temptation, fasting, mortality, and ashes. From the earth we have come to the earth we shall return. Ashes to ashes, we say. Dust to dust. 
 
This somber season seldom brings me down. If I feel guilt, it is often for enjoying this season so much. Spring, after all, will begin showing herself. Day light is lasting longer. Penitence marks this season for me, but so does joy. Lent reminds me I belong to God. Lent reminds me who (and whose) I am. Lent reminds me of the life after death, of the death I need not fear, which is something younger men can get away with saying since they think they’ll live forever. Lent reminds me life is hard and then we die, but life is worth living for. Life is worth dying for. Lent is an honest season. It pulls no punches. This is not fairy tale, and no one has written a Lenten lullaby.
 
Jesus didn’t preach damnation but joy. He welcomed children, and when you do that, you are one accustomed to laughter and curiosity. These are some of the stories we always revisit walking with Jesus on the way to Jerusalem.
 
Yes, Lent ends at a cross. (Easter begins at an empty tomb.) What could be more dismal and fatalistic than a journey to a place called The Skull/Golgotha? I don’t revel in the sin that gripped and still grips the world. I don’t take lightly the people who sought to trick, try, and crucify Jesus. I am ashamed they look just like me, and, perhaps, are sensible in the ways my own twisted self finds things sensible. But I am aware of the light that shatters darkness, the hope that transcends fear, the courage of the one who said, “Follow me,” and God’s grace that includes even me.
 
Some call this resurrection.
 
* * * 
 
From noon to 1:00 today, drive through the church alley for our “drive by” imposition of ashes. See below. 
 
Here are the poems.
 
* * *
 
ASH SEASON
Ruth Linnea Whitney
 
 
Everything was easy then and clear. 
The world and I were heady with our holdings. 
I sowed my future, breath to breath, cunning
as that lone cock who crowed while they led my Lord
up the stone walk and hoisted him between thieves. 
 
The season turned and ease receded, the world and I
turned gray. My father’s jaw burned to silt in an urn. 
My mother’s slender wrists cast over buffalo grass 
where she began. My friend saw her boy earn his wings, 
his plane and body splinter. Far away, a girl of six knelt 
on a land mine she took for saw grass. Hours like these, 
the ashes fell. 
 
I kneel now and listen for the fall of ashes. 
Listen for the One who knows each spark, 
sees each particle alight on earth, 
gathers each tiny grave into the enormous dark, 
where the return to life is done.  
                                                
 
Ruth Linnea Whitney lived two years in Zaire (now DRC) and has spent numerous lengthy sojourns in other countries of Africa with Health Volunteers Overseas. While husband David taught Orthopedic Surgery to local doctors, she taught ESL to AIDS orphans or distributed toys on the hospital children’s ward. These experiences inform her new novel, Mimosa Road, written mostly during The Time of Covid and forthcoming from Adelaide Books. And they inform her debut novel, Slim (Southern Methodist Univ. Press, 2003) for which she received the 2004 First Book Award (previously Angell Award) from the PCUSA Writer’s Guild. Her short stories and personal essays appear in The Threepenny Review, Kaleidoscope, Natural Bridge, Assisi, and elsewhere; poetry in Raven Chronicles and Ancient Paths; journalism in Chicago Tribune, Town & Country, and elsewhere. She serves on the Social Justice/Ecology team of 1^st Presbyterian Church, Port Townsend, WA, where, with David, she makes her home. 
ruthlinnea@olympus.net
 
 
* * *
 
 
Ash Wednesday Redux
Louie V. Andrews III
 
Ash Wednesday, Ash Thursday, Ash Friday.
            Tens of hundreds of thousands of ashes,
                        Daily collected, 
Daily distributed, 
Daily placed in limbo.
Ashes in a vase, 
Ashes on a table,
            Remains waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
Ashes resurrected without celebration, 
            Ashes conveyed without consecration,
                        Hearts aching and aching and aching.
Palm Sunday the branches are burned.
            Palm Sunday the ashes are set aside.
When did Palm Sunday become 
Palm Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday,
                                    Always seeking Easter,
                                                            Always finding Friday?
We wait, 
            Yearning to assimilate ashes into the breath of God.
We ache, 
            Eager to accomplish our sacred task.
 
Ashes to Ashes,
            Dust to Dust,
But not today.
 
Ash Wednesday, Ash Thursday, Ash Friday.
            Tens of hundreds of thousands of ashes,
                                    Daily collected, 
                                                Daily distributed,
                                                            Daily placed in limbo.
                                                                        Daily exposing our grief.
 
[Written for the millions waiting to celebrate the resurrection of a loved one.]
 
 
* * * 
 
 
News
 
Please sign up for the book study. (Call the office.) 
 
BOOK STUDY!  You are invited to a congregation-wide four session book study. 
 
WHAT? Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (One World, 2015). A father talks to his fifteen-year-old son about the realities of inhabiting a black body.

• WHEN?  Thursdays, February 18 and 25 and March 4 and 11 at 11:00am to 12:00 noon. 
• HOW? Sign up by emailing or calling Patty Farthing in the church office. We will meet on-line via Zoom. 217.356.7238 /  Patty@firstpres.church . Borrow books from our public library in paper, digital or audio form. 
• WHO? Everyone in our congregation and community is invited. Pastor Matt Matthews will facilitate. Our Compassion, Peace, and Justice Committee/ Spiritual Formation Committee will host.             
• WHY? Jesus asks us to love each other.

 
* * *
 
Everyone is welcomed to a “drive-by” imposition of ashes from noon to 1:00 p.m. on Ash Wednesday, TODAY. Those who feel safe driving through the alley will receive ashes imposed upon their foreheads leaned through open car windows. Matt will be double-masked and will sanitize a gloved hand between congregants. While everyone is warmly invited to drive by, if you are at-risk or otherwise feel unsafe, please stay at home. Come at your own risk. We’ll be as safe as is humanly possible. Why ashes? They remind us who and whose we are. We will gather for a live Zoom service this evening at 7 p.m. led by Eric Corbin.
Email zoom@firstpres.church for the link.
 
* * *

In-person Worship begins on February 21^st at 10:15.  After careful discussion and prayerful deliberation, the COVID-19 team and the Session have recommended that we resume limited in-person weekly worship on the First Sunday of Lent, February 21^st at 10:15 a.m.  
 
For those of you who feel safe to attend, please pre-register by calling the church office at 217.356.7238. Registration will run from Monday morning to Thursday noon the week before each service. (We are preregistering not only as a means of contact-tracing, but also to keep attendance at or under fifty [50] people, including worship leaders and ushers. That is the limit prescribed by state public health guidelines.) 
 
Remember, your Session is doing everything it can to keep everyone safe during this season of pandemic. While the end may be in sight with local and statewide numbers trending downward, not everyone is vaccinated yet and Covid-19 is still deadly. Some experts guess our nationwide death toll due to Covid may total over 600,000 by later this Spring.
 
The best way to safeguard against getting Covid is to limit one’s exposure to it and to get vaccinated; while we have prepared as safe a worship environment as possible, and all participants will be required to check in, wear masks at all times, and sit at a distance of six feet from other families, we cannot guarantee that somebody won’t get sick. Those who come to worship come at their own risk.
 
These in-person services will be, essentially, services of welcome, scripture, prayer, and preaching. These brief—40-minutes, or less—services will include no spoken liturgy, no congregational singing, and no choir. The preacher will speak from behind a plexiglass barrier. There will be no indoor fellowship, and no coffee or food service before or after the service.
 
This may not sound like a very welcoming or, even, friendly invitation, does it? You know what I mean. So, make wise decisions for you and your family, stay away if you are high risk or don’t feel well, and know that I look forward to “seeing” some of you online at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday (FirstPres.Live), and others of you face to face at 10:15 a.m. 
 
God is good.
 
* * *
 
What do these folk have in common? If you guess right, I’ll buy you Jarling’s Custard Cup! So far, about a dozen saints have played the game. (All guesses get ice cream.)
 

•       Astronaut Buzz Aldrin, 
•       the musical genius Ludwig von Beethoven, 
•       the football quarterback Terry Bradshaw, 
•       Winston Churchill, 
•       the singer Judy Collins, 
•       Monica Seles the tennis pro who holds the longest undefeated streak—33 matches—for the Australian Open, 
•       Abraham Lincoln. 

 
* * * 
 
Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter): 
 
Joke from long ago, about airlines that no longer exist.
Conversation between Pilot and Air Traffic Control (ATC)”
Pilot:  What time is it?
ATC: Who is asking?
Pilot: Why does it matter?
ATC:  Well, if you are Pan Am I say oh-nine hundred. If you are TWA, I say 9 am.  If you are Ozark, I say Tuesday.
 
Good Word: 
 
The 23^rd Psalm
 
The Lord is my shepherd.
 
LET US PRAY

Shepherd me, O Lord.

 
I cannot make the journey alone, and I don’t like betrayal by kisses, the injustice of mob rule. I don’t like the mob in me. And the shame for only being Your Son’s fair weather friend. I’m not afraid of the journey so much as I am of myself.
 
Shepherd me, O Lord.
 
 * * *
 
Much, much love to you all.
 
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church

* * *

Daily Lenten Devotion from The Presbyterian Outlook

As a Lenten devotional discipline this year, you are invited to pray with
Scripture as a way of discerning what God is calling you to be and to do
during this season.
John Calvin spoke of the Bible as the “lens of faith,” likening it to a pair of eyeglasses that enables us to see the world with clearer vision as God’s creation. As theologian Serene Jones notes in “Inhabiting Scripture, Dreaming Bible” (a chapter in “Engaging Biblical Authority”), this was Calvin’s way of saying that Scripture “brings clarity and focus to all aspects of our lives” and “lets us see what we otherwise would not.” In
short, once we have these eyeglasses on, “there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that escapes their vision-framing power.”
PRACTICES:
• Scripture as prayer: One of the ways we can “put on” Scripture is by praying or meditating contemplatively on a biblical text — slowly and contemplatively reading it as a prayer to God. Indeed, this is an ancient and robust practice of prayer. When we pray with Scripture, we ponder deeply the words and images of the text. Using our imaginations, we
can even enter into the world of the text in order to discern God’s wisdom.
• Movement of God: Praying with Scripture in this way can be an aid – a focusing lens – to help us discern the movement of God in our personal lives and in the life of the world around us. Throughout the season of Lent, you will be invited to pray with one passage from Scripture each day and prompted to reflect on what it is disclosing to you about movement toward God and movement away from God in your life.
• Prayer journal: You may find it helpful to keep a journal in which you briefly note what surfaces in your prayer time, so that over the course of the Lenten journey you can track the movements of God’s Spirit in your midst. Also, consider the prayer focus of the week as you journal and pray.
• Bringing the Bible and hymns to life: Each week, a hymn will be suggested for worship and reflection. During your devotional time each day, read the words (or sing or play the hymn!) and reflect on the truths the text reveals to you. (If you don’t have a hymnal, you can Google the hymn or visit hymnary.org.) Likewise, consider the action prompt each day and note how the Spirit nudges you to fulfill it.

FEBRUARY 17, 2021 
Ash Wednesday, FEBRUARY 17, 2021

PSALM 51:1-10
The first biblical text for our Lenten journey is Psalm 51, which is traditionally read on Ash Wednesday. Psalm 51 is striking not only for its honesty about sin, but also for its confidence in God’s merciful love amid the brokenness in our lives and in the world. The psalm is a prayer – a penitential prayer – and you are invited to pray Psalm 51:1-10 in a translation of your choosing.

Practice: Read the psalm slowly two or three times and ponder deeply its images, noting which ones capture your attention. Such images can be points at which God is speaking to you and focusing your attention.
Reflect on the images for at least five minutes (longer if you desire). As you do so, sense the movements of your spirit and the emotions that they evoke — both movements toward God and away from God. Movements toward God could include, for example, a sense of hope, peace or love that surfaces. Movements away from God might include a sense of guilt or despair.

Journal: Note these movements in your journal so that you can review them during your Lenten journey.

Monday, February 15^th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
 
To Members and Friends of 
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
 
Friends,
 
I begin today with fiction. News follows. Shrove Tuesday, as you know, is the feasting/party day before the weighty truth of Ash Wednesday.
 
Everyone is welcomed to a “drive-by” imposition of ashes from noon to 1:00 p.m. on Ash Wednesday, February 17^th. Those who feel safe driving through the alley will, leaning through open car windows, receive ashes imposed upon their foreheads. Matt will be double-masked and will sanitize a gloved hand between congregants. While everyone is warmly invited to drive by, if you are at-risk or otherwise feel unsafe, please stay at home. Come at your own risk. We’ll be as safe as is humanly possible. Why ashes? They remind us who and whose we are. We will gather for a live Zoom service that evening at 7 p.m. led by Eric Corbin.
 
* * *
 
A Mostly True Account of 
A Family Trip to Texas
 
A short story of fiction for the Eve of Shrove Tuesday
by Matt Matthews
 
               John Mark, our youngest kid, is used to hand-me-downs and has always had to claw for the spot light. I’ve admired how he’s grabbed it, mainly by way of his winsome smile, which he uses like a chainsaw, and his humor. Often his two older brothers get the attention. Joseph is in college and Benjamin is in tenth grade. John Mark, almost fourteen, is in eighth. He’s outgrown melting down into tears when he doesn’t get what he wants, and he’s too smart to pick fights with his much larger and sometime humorless sibs because they can beat the pudding out of him and often do. His mom and I operate more and more on parental autopilot these days. We let our three sons work it out for themselves, which is a more politically correct way of saying, “May the best son win.” John Mark ends up on top about a third of the time, so there’s no need for me to worry, but sometimes I do. 
            Because I’m a father and he’s the youngest, I do worry. I was particularly mindful of John Mark feeling left out on our trip to the Texas in-laws. Joseph remained at college, but the younger two and my wife and I pasted on smiles for the thousand mile drive this spring break. I wanted to do my part in letting John Mark shine. Some fathers make such calculations. I’m sure the saying that “I love my kids uniquely not equally” is nonsensical to the kid holding the short end of the stick. Some fathers ponder such disparity. Others keep up with basketball scores. 
            On the arduous trek across mile after mile of interstate blandness, I feared Ben would hog the spot light and John Mark would have no choice—again—but to hug the shadows. Benjamin, at sixteen and in the final stages of his driving instruction, would be behind the wheel a significant portion of our 34-hour round-trip passage from South Carolina. John Mark would be off my radar during much of this marathon. While Ben managed driving duties, I’d be sitting shotgun making Zen-like observations about spent tread in the roadway and various other hazards posed by dozing truckers, the legally blind, and other vehicular maniacs. Calmly, I’d be offering gentle encouragement for my son to stay between the lines despite video-gamesque obstacles while maintaining interstate speeds approaching mach one.
            The second reason I thought John Mark might be shoved to the side was that Ben brought guitars and his mandolin and practically vibrated with eagerness to jam with Uncle Alan, show off his developing skills, and learn a few new licks. John Mark is musical but is not the musical fanatic Ben is blossoming into. I imagined JM might find himself on the outside of that circle.
            We got to Texas in one piece physically at four o’clock on Monday afternoon, an hour early. Benjamin and I had white line fever. I fell into the hammock on the porch outside and skidded hard into a nap. I awoke to brother-in-law Alan standing above me with his son Jake in his arms. “There’s your Uncle Matt,” Alan said gently. 
            “Your favorite uncle,” I chimed in sleepily. 
            Jake smiled then squirmed to go back inside. My glasses had fallen off, so color and light were muted, and everything blurred at the edges. I was left alone with the purpling twilight sky. Before I struggled for the hammock’s release, I contented myself with the chirping of what I reckoned to be warblers or titmice, yellows and grays flaring in and out of the birdfeeder.
            I should have taken this serene moment as invitation to relax my hyped, fatherly protection. It wasn’t my job to make everyone enjoy this trip. But the lines often blur between what I do and do not have control over, and worry is a form of power that I often abuse. I should have known that John Mark didn’t need me, at least not for that. John Mark would fend for himself winningly, which, of course, he did.      
            He proved that in a big way on our trip home. 
            Since it was only one hour out of the way, we stopped in New Orleans. I wanted my boys to be exposed to live Dixie Land music. I say exposed because I didn’t want them just to hear it or see it. A DVD at home would suffice if that were the case. I wanted them to be there. I wanted them to soak it in. Ben is in the high school jazz band, and when he’s not playing guitar, he’s in the alto sax line. John Mark, much less interested in his middle school band, plays clarinet; at home he plays around on the piano. I wanted these guys to see jazz up close. Preservation Hall would be the perfect place.
            Leroy Jones, the night’s band leader, sang and beamed an infectious smile when he wasn’t blowing his dulled, bronze-colored trumpet. He sang without a mic. An ancient man on tenor sax played buttery smooth riffs and smiled like a kid as the crowd clapped and hooted after each solo. A young white woman played piano and held her own during her adequate solos. When the smiling Jones lifted his trumpet, he let us have it like machine gun fire and the mournful trombone followed with a kind of healing that made us beam and sway.
            Most of us could see the front door that entered into the hallway stage right. Most of us, then, could also see the young cop when he entered. He chatted amiably with the staff who waited the door. At first, I thought it was just a drop-in visit on a beat that needed a dose of good music. If I were a cop I’d stop here as often as I could. But the mellow hippies at the door were getting antsy. And the way he spun his silver handcuffs around his finger made me wonder if something was going down. 
            As the band soaked up the applause for Whenever You’re Lonesome, the lady at the door crept into the spot light and whispered to the drummer. He raised his eyebrows, leaned forward and whispered a few words to the bandleader, then got up and left for the hall. He stood mainly out of sight while I watched the cop apologetically put the cuffs on and lead his bowed shadow out. Meanwhile the lady on trombone spoke quietly with the hippies at the door as if to say, Really? A note was passed to Leroy Jones. He read it twice, like a man who needed glasses, handed it back, then smiled to the audience. 
            “It seems we have lost our drummer,” he said. 
            Everybody broke up. 
            “Thanks to Facebook, the police always know where we are. And it’s difficult to hide when you’re playing a gig at Preservation Hall.”
            They finished with two more songs, and while the drummer was good and was missed, there was nothing incomplete about this deeply heartfelt music.
 
            We lingered without speaking in the few shops still open near the Cathedral. On Decatur, I bought a dozen beads and a box of Café Du Monde beignet mix. John Mark took the black plastic bag and twirled it clockwise and counter-clockwise around his hand like the cop did with his silver cuffs. Busloads of drunken young adults stumbled towards Bourbon Street. We stood back and watched. 
            On the mile-long walk from the French Quarter to our hotel in the Warehouse District, Rachel who is not directionally brave, pointed down a dark side street. It’ll be quicker if we go this way, she said. Besides, who wanted to go back the way we came? We’d see new things by going home another way. This logic made sense, but the narrow road opened like a hole in the sagging building facades around it. The wise men came to mind. They went home another way after their visit to the manger. But their detour was designed to take them out of harm’s way, not into it. This dark street looked like a get-into-trouble-free card. Perhaps we should have known better. Heads still nodding with music, we obediently followed my wife. It was just chilly enough that we had to walk briskly to stay warm. We launched off the curb and followed Rachel like lemmings across Canal into the yawning shadow of this nondescript side street. The dark windows may have concealed eyes.
            I took up the rear mainly because to walk faster would have required speeding up the sound track still playing in my head. At midblock a thin man charged from a doorway. He screeched at us, his eyes riveted on Rachel. He shoved her backwards into Ben. Like a linebacker, Ben caught her in his arms and steadied her back onto her feet. I guessed that part of him was the man who wanted to step between her and the yelling skinny man; another part of Ben just stood there wanting his mother—the adult, after all—to defend him. Despite his sized twelve shoes, he was still a child. 
            I stood frozen ten paces behind them, frozen and watching. I couldn’t believe what was happening. This was a dark night and a darker street. I should have known better. We stood in a ragged line. Rachel up front, Ben close behind, then John Mark, then me rooted into the sidewalk farthest from the action. The skinny man may have been on drugs or scared or both. He wasn’t a professional or he would have done his damage, taken what he wanted, and been halfway gone by now. He was wiry-thin, possibly strong, and raving, spittle arching from behind yellowed teeth. He could have been sixteen or sixty. Adrenaline and violence obscure time, age, perspective. “Hey, hey, hey” he shouted to Rachel. “Give me your purse.”
            My brain lurched into gear even though my body remained frozen. I wanted to point out that my wife wasn’t even carrying a purse. Oddly, a primordial part of my brain counseled to keep quiet lest his vehemence shift from her to me. 
            “Give it to me laaa-dy.”
            The force of his words punched Rachel backwards. Each word was an inch.
            “Hey!” somebody growled. 
            I looked around expecting to see a circle of them emerging from the walls to finish the job the skinny man had started. That it was John Mark’s voice upped the alarms going off in my body. John Mark’s voice? John Mark? Nothing was computing.
            The skinny man whirled from Rachel to our fragile, youngest child.
            “Yeah you,” John Mark shouted. He jabbed the air with the forefinger of his left hand. “I’m talking to you.” He twirled his plastic bag around his right fist. 
            The skinny man took a stagger-step to John Mark, but John Marked closed the distance with two quicker, smaller steps. He raised the bag over his head like a sling and swung it towards the man’s angry face. The bag and possibly the corner of the 28-ounce box of beignet mix glanced off the man’s upper cheek into his right eye socket. He winced. I winced. Unblinking, John Mark swung again as the man stumbled sideways off the stone curb. John Mark stepped down and spun the bag above his head for a third strike. 
            The box of beignet mix had broken open. Wheat and barley flour plumed in the air like a dirty bomb. The now-astonished man hit the damp pavement and scrabbled on his injured side as John Mark leaned forward for a fourth, forceful blow. Again, he found his mark. Clots of flour spurted out, blinding the man, choking him. Flour, buttermilk, salt, sugar, baking soda, and artificial flavoring bloomed upwards. The night air suddenly smelled like Shrove Tuesday. The man choked and whimpered. Pallid, wretched, ill, he crossed his raised arms for protection. Like a wounded white leopard, he could still pounce. What was I waiting for? Why was I still frozen? He could still hurt us, or worse.
            By now something exploded from my chest and I could finally move. I grabbed John Mark, who had hit the man two more times, and screamed to the others, “Run!”
            I pulled John Mark away, but he struggled against me, like he didn’t want to go, like he had started a job that he wanted to finish. I pulled harder. He dropped the bag and we sprinted to catch up with the others. 
            In another world around the nearest corner, an upscale boutique hotel opened into a crowded patio restaurant. Gas lamps lit the wrought iron, the patterned brick sidewalks, and the colorful first floor flowerboxes. Potted palms guarded the arched doorway. Tuxedoed doormen and patrons looked our way.
            “We’ve been robbed,” Rachel blubbered, though that wasn’t true at all. We had been attacked but nothing had been taken except a box of beignets and a wad of one-dozen colored, plastic beads. And they weren’t exactly taken, so much as used in our defense. They were the detritus of battle, not the booty of a successful robbery.
            “Where’s John Mark?” Rachel choked, hoarsely, looking wide-eyed over my shoulder. It seemed impossible, but her face blanched an even whiter shade of pale.
            I had released my grip on his shirt. I turned and he wasn’t behind me. Ben and I bolted instinctively for the corner. When we rounded a dead light pole into the ominous dark, we stopped. John Mark was walking towards us—sauntering, really—down the center of the street. He was wearing that smile of his, the smile that I’ll never underestimate again. Wadded in his right hand he held that black, plastic bag. As he stepped into the light, and the burly doormen bumped to a stop behind us, he lifted the bag like Excalibur. The last of the beignet mix filtered like Louisiana voodoo powder to the street.
            “Can you believe it?” John Mark said. “That guy almost got away with our beads.”
 
# # #
 
 
NEWS, et cetera . . .
 
Please sign up for the book study. (Call the office.) It’s a serious topic, but I hope we’re going to have fun. Is that all right? To have fun talking about serious stuff? I hope so. There’s nothing wrong about holy laughter. See you at the book study.
 
BOOK STUDY!  You are invited to a congregation-wide four session book study on race.

• WHAT? Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (One World, 2015). A father talks to his fifteen-year-old son about the realities of inhabiting a black body.
• WHEN?  Thursdays, February 18 and 25 and March 4 and 11 at 11:00am to 12:00 noon. 
• HOW? Sign up by emailing or calling Patty Farthing in the church office. We will meet on-line via Zoom. 217.356.7238 /  Patty@firstpres.church . Borrow books from our public library in paper, digital or audio form. 
• WHO? Everyone in our congregation and community is invited. Pastor Matt Matthews will facilitate. Our Compassion, Peace, and Justice Committee/ Spiritual Formation Committee will host.             
• WHY? Jesus asks us to love “the other. A first step is listening to understand “the other”.

 
* * *

In-person Worship begins on February 21^st at 10:15.  After careful discussion and prayerful deliberation, the COVID-19 team and the Session have recommended that we resume limited in-person weekly worship on the First Sunday of Lent, February 21^st at 10:15 a.m.  
 
For those of you who feel safe to attend, please pre-register by calling the church office at 217.356.7238. Registration will run from Monday morning to Thursday noon the week before each service. (We are preregistering not only as a means of contact-tracing, but also to keep attendance at or under fifty [50] people, including worship leaders and ushers. That is the limit prescribed by state public health guidelines.) 
 
Remember, your Session is doing everything it can to keep everyone safe during this season of pandemic. While the end may be in sight with local and statewide numbers trending downward, not everyone is vaccinated yet and Covid-19 is still deadly. Some experts guess our nationwide death toll due to Covid may total over 600,000 by later this Spring.
 
The best way to safeguard against getting Covid is to limit one’s exposure to it and to get vaccinated; while we have prepared as safe a worship environment as possible, and all participants will be required to check in, wear masks at all times, and sit at a distance of six feet from other families, we cannot guarantee that somebody won’t get sick. Those who come to worship come at their own risk.
 
These in-person services will be, essentially, services of welcome, scripture, prayer, and preaching. These brief—40-minutes, or less—services will include no spoken liturgy, no congregational singing, and no choir. The preacher will speak from behind a plexiglass barrier. There will be no indoor fellowship, and no coffee or food service before or after the service.
 
This may not sound like a very welcoming or, even, friendly invitation, does it? You know what I mean. So, make wise decisions for you and your family, stay away if you are high risk or don’t feel well, and know that I look forward to “seeing” some of you online at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday (FirstPres.Live), and others of you face to face at 10:15 a.m. 
 
God is good.
  
* * *
 
Holy God, walk with us through these cold, dark days, 
even as we dream of the greening of our parks,
the thawing of our clenched lives,
into the springtime of your love.
 
From ashes to empty tombs,
guide our every step, faltering, 
save for your
redeeming
grace.
 
A
M
E
N
 
.
.
.
 
 
Much, much love to you all.
 
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church

Thursday, February 11^th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
 
To Members and Friends of 
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
 
Friends,
 
ESL “Café” is TODAY. This Zoom gathering enabled our immigrants to have conversation partners. When you want to speak a new language, you should practice, right? So please don’t underestimate you ability to help brothers and sisters better learn and speak English. Join us for a conversation. Our fantastic ESL director, Jeanette Pyne, will lead us; last time, she had a funny game we played. Let’s BE the church together. 

If you have any questions, please email the ESL Director, Jeanette Pyne, at jeanette@firstpres.church.

 
 * * *
 
Please sign up for the book study. (Call the office.) It’s a serious topic, but I hope we’re going to have fun. Is that all right? To have fun talking about serious stuff? I hope so. There’s nothing wrong about holy laughter. See you at the book study.
 
BOOK STUDY!  You are invited to a congregation-wide four session book study on race.

• WHAT? Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates (One World, 2015). A father talks to his fifteen-year-old son about the realities of inhabiting a black body.
• WHEN?  Thursdays, February 18 and 25 and March 4 and 11 at 11:00am to 12:00 noon. 
• HOW? Sign up by emailing or calling Patty Farthing in the church office. We will meet on-line via Zoom. 217.356.7238 /  Patty@firstpres.church . Borrow books from our public library in paper, digital or audio form. 
• WHO? Everyone in our congregation and community is invited. Pastor Matt Matthews will facilitate. Our Compassion, Peace, and Justice Committee/ Spiritual Formation Committee will host.             
• WHY? Jesus asks us to love “the other. A first step is listening to understand “the other”.

 * * *
 
News
 
Our Annual Meeting is THIS Sunday February 14^th at 10 o’clock. Join us for a quick report. We’ll also vote on the pastors’ terms of call. Thanks for joining us. Here’s the link… 
https://firstpres.church/meeting
 
* * *
 
Hard copies of the Annual Report will be available in the plastic holders  outside the door at the alley entry of the Education Building on Friday. If you want a hard copy, you may drive by the alley, and find hard copies there. Also, PDF copies are available on our website at this link: https://firstpres.church/hp_wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2020-Annual-Report-3.pdf
 
* * *
 
Everyone is welcomed to a “drive-by” imposition of ashes from noon to 1 p.m. on Ash Wednesday, February 17^th. Those who feel safe driving through the alley will receive ashes imposed upon their foreheads leaned through open car windows. Matt will be double-masked and will sanitize a gloved hand between congregants. While everyone is warmly invited to drive by, if you are at-risk or otherwise feel unsafe, please stay at home. Come at your own risk. We’ll be as safe as is humanly possible. Why ashes? They remind us who and whose we are. We will gather for a live Zoom service that evening at 7 p.m. led by Eric Corbin.
 
* * *

In-person Worship begins on February 21^st at 10:15.  After careful discussion and prayerful deliberation, the COVID-19 team and the Session have recommended that we resume limited in-person weekly worship on the First Sunday of Lent, February 21^st at 10:15 a.m.  
 
For those of you who feel safe to attend, please pre-register by calling the church office at 217.356.7238. Registration will run from Monday morning to Thursday noon the week before each service. (We are preregistering not only as a means of contact-tracing, but also to keep attendance at or under fifty [50] people, including worship leaders and ushers. That is the limit prescribed by state public health guidelines.) 
 
Remember, your Session is doing everything it can to keep everyone safe during this season of pandemic. While the end may be in sight with local and statewide numbers trending downward, not everyone is vaccinated yet and Covid-19 is still deadly. Some experts guess our nationwide death toll due to Covid may total over 600,000 by later this Spring.
 
The best way to safeguard against getting Covid is to limit one’s exposure to it and to get vaccinated; while we have prepared as safe a worship environment as possible, and all participants will be required to check in, wear masks at all times, and sit at a distance of six feet from other families, we cannot guarantee that somebody won’t get sick. Those who come to worship come at their own risk.
 
These in-person services will be, essentially, services of welcome, scripture, prayer, and preaching. These brief—40-minutes, or less—services will include no spoken liturgy, no congregational singing, and no choir. The preacher will speak from behind a plexiglass barrier. There will be no indoor fellowship, and no coffee or food service before or after the service.
 
This may not sound like a very welcoming or, even, friendly invitation, does it? You know what I mean. So, make wise decisions for you and your family, stay away if you are high risk or don’t feel well, and know that I look forward to “seeing” some of you online at 9:00 a.m. on Sunday (FirstPres.Live), and others of you face to face at 10:15 a.m. 
 
God is good.
 
* * *
 
What do these folk have in common? If you guess right, I’ll buy you Jarling’s Custard Cup! 
 

•       Astronaut Buzz Aldrin, 
•       the musical genius Ludwig von Beethoven, 
•       the football quarterback Terry Bradshaw, 
•       Winston Churchill, 
•       the singer Judy Collins, 
•       Monica Seles the tennis pro who holds the longest undefeated streak—33 matches—for the Austrailian Open, 
•       Abraham Lincoln. 

* * * 
 
Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter): 
 
What did the beach say as the tide came in?
Long time, no sea.
 
(I need jokes!!)
 
* * * 
 
Good Word: 
 
The 23^rd Psalm                      
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Let us pray

Holy God

In 
your 
wide mercy
 
f
o
r
g
i
v
e 
 
and redeem what I have been, 
 
help
me
amend 
            what I am, 
 
and 
direct
            what I shall be, 
 
so that I may 
            delight in your will, 
            and walk in your ways, 
to the glory of 
your 
holy 
name.
 
* * *
 
Much, much love to you all.

Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church