(704) 599-9810 | Worship Sundays @ 10:55 a.m.
(704) 599-9810 | Worship Sundays @ 10:55 a.m.
At Holy Covenant United Church of Christ in Charlotte, NC, worship is more than a weekly ritual—it’s a living expression of love, justice, and community.
Worship Service – March 15, 2026 | Fourth Sunday in Lent (Star Wars Sunday)
💧 Seeing with God’s Eyes — At the well, Jesus crosses every boundary and meets a weary soul with dignity, compassion, and living water.
Worship Service – March 8, 2026 | Third Sunday in Lent
Scripture: John 4:1–15 (CEB)
This Sunday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we gathered around one of the most intimate encounters in the Gospel: Jesus meeting the Samaritan woman at the well. On this Third Sunday in Lent, worship invited us to consider what it means to truly see one another—not through the labels and divisions of the world, but through the compassionate eyes of God.
The service began with the reflective beauty of “The Old Rugged Cross” on violin, creating a quiet space for stillness and breath. Pastor Chris’ centering prayer invited us to release the burdens we carried through the doors and remember a deeper truth: we are already and always tethered to the divine presence within us.
Through the Call to the Heart, we named the many ways our world separates people—citizen and stranger, insider and outsider, worthy and unworthy. Yet our shared response declared another vision: to see with different eyes, the eyes of God who beholds the sacred in all. In that moment, worship became an act of re-learning how to look at one another with reverence rather than suspicion.
In our communal prayer of transformation, we confessed how easily we fall back into the categories of race, class, nationality, religion, and identity that determine who deserves compassion. But grace met us there. The assurance reminded us that even when we fail to see clearly, God has never stopped seeing us—as beloved children made in the divine image.
The Modern Lesson from Brazilian theologian Rubem Alves offered a profound reflection: to see another person as God sees them is to look beyond usefulness and notice beauty. Love, he writes, is not blind—it sees more, not less. It notices the fragile places, the unfinished places, the trembling places where human life is most real.
Then we arrived at the well. In John 4:1–15, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman—someone separated from him by culture, religion, and social expectation. Yet Jesus refuses those divisions. Instead, he speaks to her, honors her humanity, and offers something deeper than the water she came to draw: living water that becomes a spring within.
In his sermon, “Seeing with God’s Eyes,” Rev. Christopher Czarnecki reminded us that the miracle of the story is not only the promise of living water—it is the act of seeing itself. Jesus sees the woman not as a category, not as a problem, not as someone to avoid, but as a beloved child of God. And that same vision becomes our calling. To see the immigrant, the refugee, the marginalized, the politically different, the socially unfamiliar—not as strangers, but as neighbors whose sacred worth reflects our own.
The invitation to generosity carried the theme forward. Jesus did not go to the well to take; he went to see, give, and transform. Our gifts—including our support for One Great Hour of Sharing—became acts of shared belonging, reminders that another person’s thirst is also our own.
By the time the congregation sang “Fill My Cup, Lord”, the imagery of the well had deepened into a prayer. We were invited to draw from a source deeper than the divisions of the world—deeper than fear, prejudice, or exhaustion. Christ offers living water that restores the soul and reminds us that we are seen, known, and loved.
As worship concluded with a prayer for peace, we left carrying a simple but powerful invitation: to learn to see as God sees. And in that vision, to recognize that every person we encounter is already standing at the well with us.
“Love is not blind; it sees more, not less.”
🌙 Born Anew — In the quiet of night, questions become holy ground and the Spirit whispers of rebirth.
Worship Service – 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.
Worship Service – 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.”
A Service of Ashes • Turning Toward Repair • Holy Covenant UCC
🕯️ “Remember that you are dust… Yet, out of death comes new life.” — An Ash Wednesday journey of truth-telling, release, and transformation.
Worship Service – February 18, 2026 | Ash Wednesday (First Day of Lent)
Scripture: Psalm 51 (CEB)
On Ash Wednesday at Holy Covenant United Church of Christ, we entered Lent the way we most need to: not by pretending we are fine, but by telling the truth with tenderness. We were welcomed into a Service of Ashes that named both the ache we carry and the hope God keeps offering—moment by moment, breath by breath, new beginning by new beginning.
Our Call to Worship framed the night as a shared pilgrimage: a journey of learning to love, learning the ways of peace, and returning home to God—together. We came to listen to each other’s stories, to acknowledge our complicity in the state of the world, to receive forgiveness and to practice reconciliation as authentic community.
The opening hymn, “Near to the Heart of God”, did what true worship does: it made room. A place of quiet rest. A place of comfort. A place of release. Then the opening prayer asked for what Lent always asks for—clean hearts, renewed spirits, and lives worthy of love.
In Psalm 51, we heard the raw honesty of a soul that refuses denial: Create a clean heart for me, O God… put a new, faithful spirit deep inside me. It was confession without self-destruction—truth spoken in the presence of mercy.
The hymn “Sunday’s Palms Are Wednesday’s Ashes” held up a mirror: naming jealousy, pride, impatience, wasted resources, ignored suffering—then turning that naming into offering. Not to wallow, but to return. Not to spiral, but to begin again.
The heart of the service came through Pastor Chris’ reflection on han—a Korean word for the deep sadness and suffering that emerges from violence and injustice, a sense of powerlessness that can become a heavy “lump” in a life. Han was described as tangled webs of wrongs and hurts—fear, resentment, hostility, neglect—layer upon layer. And then we were invited to do something holy: to gather our own layers, and bring them into the light.
In a symbolic act of transformation (han-pu-ri), we wrote what needed release—what needed forgiveness, what needed to die—then carried it to the fire. We did not burn these truths to forget them, but as a sign that we will be aware and choose differently. We offered our han to God, praying it might be transformed into power and hope.
Afterward, the ashes of our prayers were mixed with the ashes of last year’s palms—a profound sign that our endings are never wasted, and that even grief can become soil. Then came the invitation that makes Ash Wednesday unmistakably real: traditional ashes and glitter ashes.
Glitter ashes were offered as a visible witness that repentance and hope can coexist—and as a reclaiming of this day for those harmed or excluded by the church. Glitter, a symbol of resilience and flourishing in the queer community, was blended with ashes to proclaim a faith that reconciles rather than harms, a faith that reflects Christ’s radical and boundless love for all.
As each person received the sign of the cross, we heard the ancient words—“Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” And we answered with a promise shaped by Easter before Easter arrives: “Yet, out of death comes new life.”
We closed with prayer that God can hold what we cannot admit, name what we cannot speak, remember what we try to forget—and make us whole through Christ. Then we sang “Abide with Me”, a hymn for twilight seasons, trusting the One who stays when other helpers fail.
“Repentance is not punishment—it is turning. And even now, God is already at work: releasing, renewing, making all things new.”
✨ 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.
Worship Service – 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.
Worship Service – 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.
Worship Service – 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.”
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