(704) 599-9810 | Worship Sundays @ 10:55 a.m.
(704) 599-9810 | Worship Sundays @ 10:55 a.m.
🌙 Born Anew — In the quiet of night, questions become holy ground and the Spirit whispers of rebirth.
Born Anew – March 1, 2026 | Second Sunday in Lent
Scripture: John 3:1–8 (CEB)
On this Second Sunday in Lent, Holy Covenant gathered beneath the theme of rebirth. The cover image of Nicodemus meeting Jesus in the night set the tone: faith is not always loud or certain. Sometimes it comes as a quiet conversation, a courageous question asked in the dark.
Our prelude, “Lead Me to Calvary”, opened a reflective space. In the Centering Prayer, we asked God to quiet the noise within us and make us receptive to being made new. Again and again throughout the liturgy, we named this truth together: “We are being born anew.” In grief and love. In questions and awakening. In justice and in courage.
Singing “Gather Us In”, we proclaimed that new light is streaming even now. Our prayers of confession and transformation acknowledged how we sometimes resist change—clinging to certainty or fearing what transformation may cost. Yet the Words of Grace reminded us that God does not rush or force our becoming. The Spirit works patiently, inviting us to grow gradually, one moment at a time.
A Modern Lesson from Kahlil Gibran reflected on the quiet miracle of rebirth: that every ending prepares the ground for a beginning that could not have existed before. Then in John 3:1–8, we listened as Nicodemus struggled to understand Jesus’ words: “Unless someone is born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom.” Born of water and Spirit. Born beyond literalism. Born into mystery.
In his sermon, “Born Anew,” Rev. Christopher Czarnecki invited us to see rebirth not as a single dramatic moment, but as a lifelong unfolding. We are reborn when our hearts break open. Reborn when our compassion deepens. Reborn when we allow old versions of ourselves to fall away so that something truer can emerge. The Spirit, like wind, cannot be controlled—but it can be trusted.
At the Mystic Supper, voices across generations reminded us that this table belongs to all. Bread was broken and the cup lifted as signs that God’s love and presence remain constant through every stage of becoming. In sharing Communion, we practiced what it means to be one body—diverse, questioning, beloved, and continually made new.
We closed singing “Lord Jesus, Who through Forty Days”, stepping further into Lent with humility and hope. The benediction sent us into the week carrying this assurance: transformation is not a threat. It is grace. And we are always, always being born anew.
“The Spirit blows wherever it wishes… and we are invited to trust the wind.”
🌵 Out of the Desert — At the edge of promise, fear distorts vision, but God restores courage and calls us forward in faith.
The Cost of Delay: A Perception Disorder at the Edge of Promise – February 22, 2026 | First Sunday in Lent (Black History Month)
Scripture: Numbers 13:27–33; 14:6–10a; 14:40–45
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we stepped into Lent through the wilderness. The desert landscape on our bulletin cover reminded us that promise is rarely reached without first passing through uncertainty. We gathered, as the liturgy declared, at the edge of promise—a place where fear and faith stand side by side.
The prelude, “Lonesome Valley,” carried the sound of solitary courage, followed by the sung welcome of “Salaam”—peace spoken over every race and every place. In the Call to the Heart, we named the giants that loom in our lives—barriers, delays, distorted perceptions—and answered together with resolve: “We will not turn back. We walk together in love.”
Our hymn, “Lord, I Want to Be a Christian,” became a prayer for formation—more loving, more holy, more Christlike. In our Black Christian History Moment, we honored Dr. Katie Cannon, remembering her pioneering voice in womanist theology and Christian ethics, and her insistence that faith must be lived in embodied justice.
The anthem, “N’kosi Sikelel’i Afrika,” widened our prayer beyond ourselves, blessing nations and peoples in need of healing and protection. Scripture from Numbers confronted us with a hard truth: the scouts saw abundance in the land, yet described themselves as grasshoppers before giants. Fear shaped their perception. Joshua and Caleb, however, saw the same landscape and declared, “Do not fear… the Lord is with us.”
In her sermon, “The Cost of Delay: A Perception Disorder at the Edge of Promise,” Rev. Windy Allison named how fear can quietly distort discernment. Delay is not neutral. When we linger too long in anxiety or self-doubt, opportunities for transformation shrink. Lent, she reminded us, is a season for healing our vision—learning to see not as grasshoppers before giants, but as beloved people walking with God.
The congregation responded in song with “Oh Freedom”, declaring liberation not as abstraction but as lived commitment. “We’ve Come This Far by Faith” sent us forward grounded in resilience rather than bravado. The benediction echoed as promise and marching orders alike: We will walk with God. We will go rejoicing till the kin-dom has come.
“At the edge of promise, fear distorts vision — but love restores courage.”
✨ Let Us Draw Near — Transfiguration Sunday invites us to see with new eyes: beyond fear, beyond separation, toward the light of divine love that changes everything.
Let Us Draw Near– February 15, 2026 | Transfiguration Sunday (Black History Month)
Scripture: Matthew 17:1–9 (NRSV)
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we gathered on Transfiguration Sunday—the mountaintop moment when Christ’s radiance reveals what is most true, even when we’re still learning how to see. From the first notes of the prelude, “All Day, All Night” (arr. K. Blackwell-Plank), we were gently reminded: God’s presence is not occasional. It is constant—steady as breath, luminous as love.
Pastor Chris led a Centering Prayer that met us with tenderness and holy honesty—inviting us to notice what we carry, where we hold tension, and what walls we’ve built around the heart. Then came a courageous petition: that the Spirit would awaken in us the Christ Mind, helping us to see beyond fear, beyond division, beyond the limiting stories that keep us small—so we might draw near to what is real, sacred, and true.
In the Call to the Heart, we named the wide, generous truth of God’s welcome: that we arrive with different stories, identities, and journeys—some weary, some curious, some doubting—yet all are beloved, all are worthy, all are seen. We prayed for a transformed vision: to see ourselves, one another, and this world as God sees—beloved, beautiful, and always becoming.
As part of our Black History Month observance, we honored Sister Dr. Thea Bowman in the Black Christian History Moment—celebrating her witness and contribution to the breadth of Christian faith. Our worship continued to be carried by the music of Richard Smallwood, including “Lead Me, Guide Me,” “I Love the Lord,” and the prayerful refrain of the sung response, “Rain Down.”
A Modern Lesson from Rev. Dr. Yvette Flunder offered a clear, liberating word: God keeps calling us beyond inherited categories, and real transformation begins when we recognize that what we were taught to fear may actually be holy. Seeing with new eyes disrupts old certainties—but it also frees us to love more fully. That freedom, we were reminded, is nothing less than gospel.
Our Gospel reading, Matthew 17:1–9, brought us to the mountain—where Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James, and John: face shining like the sun, clothes bright as light, and the voice from the cloud declaring, “This is my Son, the Beloved… listen to him!” Fear fell heavy on the disciples, but Christ’s touch met them with mercy: “Get up and do not be afraid.”
In “Let Us Draw Near,” Pastor Chris proclaimed the Good News that this holy light is not for spectacle, but for transformation—drawing us nearer to God and nearer to one another. And from that nearness, generosity flows: the offering was framed as a natural response to changed vision—open hands becoming instruments of love, justice, and healing.
We were sent out singing and marching in hope—“Siyahamba” echoing as both prayer and promise: We are marching in the light of God. On the far side of the mountain, we stepped back into the world with hearts more awake, eyes more honest, and a courage that comes from being touched by holy light.
“Seeing with new eyes takes courage—but it also frees us to love more fully.”
✊🏾 Racial Justice Sunday: The Gospel Is Not Neutral — Worship as public witness: a call to moral courage, deep belonging, and the dismantling of racism as sacred work.
Sermon – February 8, 2026 | Fifth Sunday After the Epiphany (Racial Justice Sunday)
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we gathered on the Fifth Sunday After the Epiphany for worship centered on truth-telling, belonging, and the holy urgency of justice. In the heart of Black History Month, our service proclaimed that Christian faith cannot be neutral in the face of injustice—and that the work of racial equity is not peripheral to the gospel, but central to it.
From the opening welcome through the closing blessing, worship held a steady thread: we are called to live a faith that restores dignity, disrupts harm, and builds beloved community. The Centering Prayer invited each of us to bring our whole selves—doubter and believer, sinner and saint—into God’s presence, awakening to compassion and readiness for courageous love.
In the Call to the Heart, we named aloud what many systems prefer we keep silent: that racism still divides, that repentance must be more than words, and that God calls us to dismantle oppression with sustained commitment. Worship did not ask us to look away. It asked us to look clearly—and to respond.
During the Black Christian History Moment, we honored Richard Smallwood, celebrating his enduring contribution to the life of faith through sacred music. His song, “I Love the Lord,” became both testimony and prayer—reminding us that Black faith has long carried hope through struggle, and praise through pain.
Our Modern Lesson, drawn from Kelly Brown Douglas’ Stand Your Ground, named racism as a theological distortion that denies the image of God in Black bodies—and insisted that faithfulness requires moral courage and public witness. The message was clear: the church’s mission is not comfort that maintains the status quo, but justice that aligns with the God of life.
We were deeply blessed to welcome Bishop Tonyia Rawls to proclaim The Good News. Her presence and voice reinforced the day’s spiritual center: that liberation is not an add-on to Christian life, but part of its heartbeat. Through prayer, proclamation, and song, worship affirmed a gospel that stands with those most harmed—and calls the church to stand there too.
Even our generosity was framed as discipleship. In the Invitation to Generosity and Prayer of Dedication, we remembered that justice requires more than intention—it requires investment, repair, and the courage to build a world where all can thrive.
“The gospel is not neutral in the face of injustice. It stands on the side of life, dignity, and liberation.”
✊🏾 Answer Me, White Church! Answer Me! — A Black History Month call to truth-telling, repentance, and faithful repair: not performative religion, but justice, loving-kindness, and humility.
Answer Me, White Church! Answer Me! – February 1, 2026 | Fourth Sunday After the Epiphany (Black History Month)
Scripture: Micah 6:1–8 (NRSV)
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, worship met us online only due to inclement weather—yet the Spirit was anything but distant. In this livestream gathering, we entered the Fourth Sunday After the Epiphany carrying the sacred weight and living witness of Black History Month, listening for God’s voice not as comfort alone, but as holy summons. (Service date and context: February 1, 2026.)
Our worship opened with prayer that honored Black faith as communal lament and resilient hope—prayer that has sustained people through the impossible, becoming freedom songs and “coded maps to liberation.” From the first moments, we were invited to bring our whole selves—body, mind, and spirit—into a truth that does not flinch.
In the Call to the Heart, we named a cloud of witnesses—Harriet Tubman, Jackie Robinson, Maya Angelou, James Baldwin, Ruby Bridges, Pauli Murray, Fannie Lou Hamer, Sidney Poitier, Langston Hughes, John Lewis—each a living testimony that faithfulness is not passive. Their stories became our prayer: may we embody them, continue their work, and be courageous enough to finish what they started.
During our Black Christian History Moment, we honored James H. Cone, widely recognized as the father of Black Liberation Theology. In the Modern Lesson—adapted from Cone’s The Cross and the Lynching Tree—we heard the sobering insistence that the church cannot claim reconciliation without truth, nor grace without aligning itself with the oppressed. Repentance, we were reminded, is not sentiment; it is turning.
Our scripture from Micah 6:1–8 brought the people to court—God pleading a case, demanding an answer, refusing religious theater. The prophet’s clarity landed like thunder and mercy at once: what does the Holy One require but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.
In his sermon, “Answer Me, White Church! Answer Me!” Pastor Chris offered a courageous and necessary word for this season: that faith must disturb injustice, not bless it; that silence is not neutrality; and that the church’s credibility depends on truth-telling, repair, and the costly work of justice. The invitation was not to shame, but to transformation—moving from comfort to accountability, from performative gestures to lived solidarity.
Communion carried the same holy urgency. The table was proclaimed as a place where barriers are broken down, where the excluded are welcomed, and where we are strengthened for the work of justice, equity, and peace—nourished not for escape, but for faithful action in the world.
“God is not impressed by offerings that avoid the heart of the matter—justice, loving-kindness, and humble faithfulness.”
✨ Called to Be Light — A reminder that God names us beloved before asking anything of us, and then calls us to let that love shine into the world.
Called to Be Light – January 18, 2026 | Second Sunday After the Epiphany
Scripture: Isaiah 49:1–7
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we gathered on the Second Sunday After the Epiphany to reflect on calling, courage, and the quiet persistence of light. Worship invited us to consider what it means to be named by God—not after we feel prepared, but before—and to trust that belovedness is the beginning of faithful action.
From the opening prayer, we were reminded that we come carrying the weight of the world and the doubts we hold about our own adequacy. And yet, we were invited to center ourselves in the truth that we are loved simply because we belong to God—formed not only for comfort, but for service.
Our scripture from Isaiah 49:1–7 named a servant who feels weary, unseen, and unsure whether their labor has mattered at all. Into that exhaustion, God speaks a deeper truth: the work is larger than imagined, the calling wider than expected, and the light meant not only for one people, but for all nations.
In his sermon, “Called to Be Light,” Pastor Chris invited us to release the myth that readiness precedes calling. Drawing on voices from the civil rights movement and prophetic faith, we were reminded that justice grows when people trust that their contribution matters—even when the destination remains unclear.
The service wove together scripture, prayer, and witness to affirm that justice is not the absence of pain, but the refusal to let pain have the final word. Through communal prayer and song, we named our doubts honestly, received words of grace freely, and were reminded that God equips those God calls.
Music carried the theology of the day with power and tenderness—from the opening spiritual “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen,” to the stirring anthem “Roll Down, Justice,” and the communal hymn “We Shall Overcome.” Together, worship reminded us that faith is not passive—it sings, it marches, it hopes.
“God does not call us because we are ready; God calls us because love demands a response.”
💧 Baptism of Jesus — A holy reminder that we are already known, already claimed, and already beloved… and that belovedness commissions us to live with courage.
The World Is Waiting and the Waters Are Calling – January 11, 2026 | Baptism of Christ
Scripture: Matthew 3:13–17
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we gathered to celebrate the Baptism of Christ—a day centered not on achievement, but on identity. In the waters of the Jordan, Jesus is named beloved before he performs a miracle, preaches a sermon, or takes a single step toward the cross. Worship invited us to receive that same truth: we are loved, claimed, and called—not because we have earned it, but because we belong to God.
Our centering prayer framed the service with gentleness and clarity: before we speak or sing or try to make sense of anything, we remember that we are already known and already loved. The Call to the Heart echoed this invitation, drawing us toward “the welcoming waters of grace” and the voice that calls us precious and whole.
In the Gospel reading, Matthew 3:13–17, Jesus comes to be baptized by John, and heaven breaks open: the Spirit descends like a dove, and the voice of God declares, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” The story reminds us that belovedness is not sentimental—it is foundational. It is the grounding that makes faithful living possible.
Pastor Chris preached a sermon titled “The World Is Waiting and the Waters Are Calling,” inviting us to hear baptism as both affirmation and commissioning. The waters tell the truth about who we are—and then they send us out. God’s love is not meant to stay contained in private comfort; it becomes public courage. To remember we are beloved is to step into the world with a steadier heart, a clearer purpose, and a deeper commitment to justice.
A particularly powerful moment in the service was the Affirmation of Baptism. Congregants were invited forward to receive a blessing with water from the baptismal font—whether or not they have ever been baptized—because God’s love exists before and beyond any ritual. As the choir sang “Wade in the Water,” we were reminded that God still “troubles the water,” calling us into renewal, solidarity, and the messy places where love becomes action.
We also marked a significant moment in the life of the church through the installation of Elders and Deacons and the recognition of service from the Consistory Class of 2025. With prayer, covenant, and the laying on of hands, we celebrated leaders who have answered God’s call for the flourishing of the congregation and the healing of the world.
“Knowing we are beloved gives us the courage to live, to love, and to seek justice.” — bell hooks
🕊️ And So I Chose to Begin Again — A reminder that new beginnings are not about erasing the past, but choosing how we step forward.
A Word for the Journey This Year– January 4, 2026 | Second Sunday After Christmas
Scripture: Jeremiah 31:7–14
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we gathered on the Second Sunday After Christmas and the first Sunday of the new year—standing at a threshold where memory and possibility meet. Worship invited us not to rush past what has been, but to step deliberately into what is becoming.
From the opening prayers to the final blessing, the service was shaped by the language of homecoming—not as a return to something lost, but as a reawakening to a sacred presence that has never left us. We named the weight of the past year honestly, while affirming that we are not defined by it.
Our scripture from Jeremiah 31:7–14 offered a vision of gathering and restoration: a people brought home, mourning turned to joy, lives renewed like a lush garden. This was not a promise of ease, but of movement—God leading the people forward with intention, care, and hope.
In his sermon, “A Word for the Journey This Year,” Pastor Chris invited the congregation to consider the year ahead not as a blank slate, but as a call. A call to begin again—not by striving to become someone new, but by choosing to live more fully into who we already are, grounded in God’s presence and love.
A central moment in worship was the White Stone Ceremony, a sacred practice inviting each person to listen for a word to guide their intentions, actions, and becoming in the year ahead. These words were received not as resolutions to be perfected, but as invitations to be lived—quiet companions for the journey forward.
Music carried this theology throughout the service, offering welcome, courage, and resolve. From the opening tribute to Richard Smallwood to hymns that proclaimed hope, presence, and liberation, worship reminded us that faith is not only believed—it is practiced, sung, and embodied.
“We are no longer defined by our past, but by who we are choosing to become.”
🕊️ Keeping Christmas — A reminder that God meets us not in certainty, but in wonder, where mystery is held gently in the light of love.
Keeping Chirstmas– December 28, 2025 | First Sunday After Christmas
Scripture: Isaiah 63:7–9 | Matthew 2:13–23
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we gathered on the First Sunday After Christmas to reflect on what it means not simply to celebrate Christmas — but to keep it. As the season’s brightness gives way to quieter days, worship invited us to consider how the mystery of God-with-us continues to shape our lives beyond December 25.
Drawing on the words of theologian and musician Barry Taylor, we were reminded that “God is the name of the blanket we throw over mystery to give it shape.” Christmas does not eliminate mystery; it holds it — wrapping the unknown in presence, tenderness, and hope.
Our scriptures carried this truth with honesty and depth. In Isaiah 63:7–9, the prophet recalls God’s steadfast love — a presence that does not abandon the people but carries them through suffering and exile. In Matthew 2:13–23, the Christmas story continues not with angels and shepherds, but with flight, fear, and courage, as the Holy Family seeks refuge in Egypt and later returns home by a different road.
Together, we acknowledged that Christmas is not sentimental or safe. Love takes flesh, and then love must travel — into uncertainty, displacement, and the hard work of protecting life. To keep Christmas is to remain faithful to that journey.
Guest preacher Rev. Judah L. Jones preached a sermon titled “Keeping Christmas,” inviting us to see Christmas not as a single holy moment, but as a way of living — choosing compassion over fear, welcome over indifference, and hope that refuses to go silent.
Music carried this theology forward throughout the service, weaving joy, courage, and resolve into every note. From the opening violin prelude to songs of resistance and praise, worship reminded us that faith is something we sing — and something we live.
✨ “The work of Christmas begins when the song ends.”
“Christmas is not something we finish — it is something we keep.” — Rev. Judah L. Jones
✨ “The Manger and the Oppressed” — God born not into power, but into vulnerability, solidarity, and hope.
The Manger and the Oppressed – December 24, 2025
Scripture: Isaiah 9:2–7 | Luke 1:26–38 | Luke 2:1–20
On Christmas Eve, Holy Covenant United Church of Christ gathered by candlelight to tell the ancient story once more — not as nostalgia, but as living truth. In a world marked by injustice, displacement, and longing, worship invited us to encounter a God who enters history not through empire or dominance, but through vulnerability, presence, and love.
Worship opened with a piano duet of “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” followed by a Call to the Heart that named why we gather on this night: not because all is well in the world, but because God chooses to dwell within it. Christmas, we proclaimed, is not an escape from reality — it is God’s commitment to meet us in it.
The Christ Candle was lit by the Hankins family, marking the culmination of Advent’s journey. As the flame rose, we named what this birth proclaims: love has come near, hope has been kindled, peace is possible, and joy abides. The light of Christ, we declared, continues to shine wherever compassion, justice, and mercy take root.
Scripture unfolded in a sacred rhythm — Isaiah’s promise of light dawning in deep darkness, Gabriel’s announcement to Mary, and Luke’s telling of Jesus’ birth amid occupation, displacement, and scarcity. These readings reminded us that Christmas is not sentimental — it is profoundly political, deeply human, and unmistakably hopeful.
Pastor Chris preached a sermon titled “The Manger and the Oppressed,” inviting us to see the nativity not as a gentle tableau, but as a radical declaration. God enters the world among the poor, the displaced, and the vulnerable — revealing where divine love continues to show up today.
Music formed the heartbeat of the Christmas Eve service, carrying the story of incarnation with reverence, beauty, and conviction. A solo of “O Holy Night” followed — offered as a welcoming invitation into the mystery of the night, drawing the congregation into holy stillness and awe.
The Handbell Choir offered a series of stunning and spectacular musical moments throughout the service. With clarity, precision, and grace, each piece rang out like prayer made audible — bells proclaiming peace, hope, and light in ways words alone could not. Their shimmering presence grounded the service in reverence and beauty.
The Chancel Choir gave moving and powerful performances that anchored the theology of the night. In “Away in a Manger,” they offered tenderness and intimacy; in “Christmas Lullaby,” they gave voice to comfort and promise; and in the anthem “Candle in the Night,” they proclaimed hope that refuses to be extinguished — a light that endures even in deep darkness.
As the service drew toward its close, Eric Miner and Ed Vickery announced the birth of Emmanuel through a powerful and stirring presentation of “All Is Well” by Michael W. Smith — a declaration of faith that does not deny the world’s pain, but trusts God’s presence within it. The congregation then joined together in the candlelit singing of “Silent Night,” voices unified as light passed from flame to flame, filling the sanctuary with peace.
We departed carrying more than candle wax and melody — we carried a calling: to bear Christ’s light into a world still longing for justice, dignity, and peace.
✨ “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”
“God chose a manger — and in doing so, chose the oppressed, the forgotten, and the hopeful.” — Rev. Christopher Czarnecki
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