Dear Talmadge Hill Family,
What if everything we've been told about small churches is wrong? Last Sunday, Cheryl reminded us of something essential: "Stewardship is not about the building—it's about growing faith and nurturing a personal commitment to God and prayerfully considering how they make that annual commitment."
Her words stayed with me. Because here's what I've been wondering: What if everything we've been told about small churches is wrong? What if decline isn't failure but an invitation? What if we're not losing ground—but finding our future, a future that we all have a part in shaping?
This Sunday, I want us to look together at Luke 21:5-19, where Jesus does something remarkable. While everyone else is admiring the temple's grandeur, he redirects their attention entirely. He calls us away from trusting in grand, crumbling institutions and toward something far more enduring: the power of witness and perseverance.
Just as Jesus challenged his disciples to stop measuring faithfulness by institutional magnificence, we need to hear his word for our moment. Drawing on insights from theologians like John Howard Yoder and Diana Butler Bass, I want to explore how our size at Talmadge Hill isn't a challenge to overcome—it's our most significant strategic advantage. We are the perfect vessel for cultivating what I'm calling Extravagant Belonging—the kind of radical, personal welcome that small communities can offer in ways institutions simply cannot.
And this is precisely why our Advent series matters so much. Our commitment to this future continues as we look toward the season with "What Do You Fear? Insisting On Hope!" The same voices that tell us small means dying are the voices of fear. But here at Talmadge Hill, we are not just hoping—we are insisting on hope, choosing to be active participants in its cultivation.
This series, drawing on resources from A Sanctified Art LLC, invites us to examine our relationship with fear—because fear often keeps us from embracing the future God is preparing. As the angels told the early disciples, "Do not fear." Insisting on hope doesn't mean pretending fear doesn't exist; it means refusing to let fear have the final word.
We invite everyone to contemplate this Advent with us. Devotional booklets are available, and you can read more about this journey toward hope in this newsletter.
I am looking forward to seeing you in worship on Sunday!
Mooi Loop,
Dries
PS: I'll be away November 17-20 at a clergy retreat at Mercy by the Sea in Madison, CT, led by Rev. Dr. Derrick McQueen with artist-in-residence R. Sawan White. The Presbytery of Southern New England is gathering for what promises to be a deeply reflective time together.
Sunday, November 9, 2025
Dear friends,
As I sat in the Sanctuary last Sunday, gazing over Rob’s shoulder toward the glorious autumn view beyond him, I was struck by how little that scene has changed in more than a century. The majestic trees and the stately stone wall that drew me in have watched over countless worshipers and ministers through seasons of joy, sorrow, celebration, and change. That window frames not only a landscape—it reveals God’s creation, God’s kingdom, and a living piece of our shared history.
Yet creation, community, and God’s kingdom echo within our walls as well. They come alive when we break bread at the table, when laughter rises during hospitality hour, when a child is baptized, a couple is married, or when prayers and compassion surround a grieving family. They shine through our mission work and our music. Our faith is timeless and it is alive both inside and outside our four walls.
“Like living stones,” Peter writes, “let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.” We are called to be those living stones—to invest ourselves in the work of God’s kingdom through our stewardship. Each year, our pledges join the legacy of generations before us who believed that the little church at the corner of Talmadge Hill Road and Hollow Tree Ridge Road could be an incubator for God’s love in the world. Those early worshipers of the late 19th century could never have imagined us, yet they trusted the Holy Spirit to keep raising up generations to build God’s kingdom. Now it is our turn. Through our stewardship, we continue the sacred work of knowing God’s love and sharing it with generations we may never meet.
As you prayerfully consider your pledge for the coming year, remember that every gift is more than a contribution—it is an affirmation of faith and a declaration that this community matters to you and to the wider world. Your generosity keeps our mission alive and ensures that God’s love continues to take root here, in this place, for years to come.
May it be so.
With love,
Cheryl
Sunday, November 2, 2025
Dear Talmadge Hill Family,
This Sunday, we invite you to bring pictures of past saints—loved ones whose lives reflected God's grace—and place them in the liturgical area. In worship, we join Christians around the world to celebrate All Saints' Day, honoring those who have gone before us and the "holy ones" living among us now.
The history of All Saints' Day is rooted in honoring the countless faithful and in highlighting the spiritual unity we share with all believers—the "communion of saints." In the Reformed tradition, a saint isn't just someone who has been canonized; a saint is any baptized believer in Jesus Christ, and here at Talmadge Hill, we extend that definition to all members of our human family. This day is a profound reminder that we are surrounded by a "cloud of witnesses" (Hebrews 12:1), from the historically influential to the ordinary family members who nurtured our own faith. You are a saint, set apart by God's grace!
During our worship service, you will have a special opportunity to participate in our celebration. We will provide index cards for you to write the names of the saints in your life—siblings who have joined the great cloud of witnesses and the ones living among us. The names you submit will be read aloud during our All Saints' Communion, binding us together in prayer as a testament to God’s enduring grace.
Our scripture focus, John 11:32-44, tells the powerful story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, and my meditation, "Resurrection in the Present Tense," will explore how the power that raised Lazarus is not just a historical event but a life-giving force actively at work in our lives today. It's the power of God's grace mending our brokenness and calling us to wholeness.
In preparation for worship, I invite you to meditate on the words of Brother Roger of Taizé, "We are not myths of the past, nor are we saints of the future; we are just people of today, and we are called to be the saints of today."
See you in worship!
Mooi Loop,
Dries
Sunday, October 26, 2025
Dear Talmadge Hill Family,
This coming Sunday, October 26, is Reformation Sunday, a Protestant Christian observance commemorating the 16th-century Reformation, specifically the posting of Martin Luther's 95 Theses on October 31, 1517. It is typically celebrated on the last Sunday of October. It not only serves as a reminder of the historical events that led to the Protestant Reformation, but also invites us to contemplate anew what it means to be part of a faith that is reforming and always as reforming.
By contemplating the Reformation on Sunday, I am not making any assumptions about the beliefs at Talmadge Hill. I am asking how a historical event that changed Christianity calls us to reflection. As a 'critically-minded,' independent community, what does Reformation Sunday mean for us? We don't just celebrate a historical event; we are a people committed to the courageous present-day work of expressing ourselves. Our sermon this Sunday is "Be Still and Know: The Grief That Reforms Us," inspired by Psalm 46, a central Scripture of the Reformation. We often rush to the "be still" part of that psalm, but it begins with a world in chaos: with the earth giving way and mountains shaking.
For us, that 'earthquake' is often the disorienting, personal side of our ongoing search for identity. This courageous search for self is a creative and sometimes unsettling journey. So, how do we honor both the grief we readily recognize and the grief that masks itself—the losses that hide beneath the surface when our most familiar beliefs begin to shift? When grief remains unacknowledged, it often expresses itself in unexpected and sometimes unhealthy ways. How do we become intentional about naming and expressing what we've lost, bringing it into the light where healing can happen? How do we find the stillness of God, not despite this, but in the very midst of it? Join us as we explore how this vulnerable, reforming work is at the heart of our life together.
This same spirit of active, responsive faith is also guiding our Missions work. As we head into the holiday season, we are called to be a tangible presence of God's love for our neighbors. You'll see details below in "The Happenings" about our plans to provide food, warmth, and joy—from our November Breakfast Run and holiday food card collections to the Halloween Candy Drive and our traditional Angel Tree. These are simple, powerful ways we can live out our mission and respond to the world's needs.
Please join us this Sunday as we reflect on this time of transition—both at Talmadge Hill and in our own lives. Whether in worship, in service, or in the quiet wrestling with questions that matter, may we discover God's presence in the midst of our shared journey.
As we continue this work of discernment and spiritual formation, I invite you to join us in our ongoing practices:
Contemplative Prayer in Community meets weekly on Wednesdays from 5-6 pm via Zoom.
Bible Study meets weekly on Thursdays from 9:30-11:00 am, both in person and on Zoom.
These practices ground us, connect us, and open us to God's leading as we navigate this threshold time together.
Mooi loop,
Dries
Sunday, October 19, 2025
Dear Talmadge Hill Family,
Thank you for your heartfelt acceptance this past Sunday. After my sermon, the quiet pause that settled over our gathering, followed by Eric rising to embrace me, was a powerful symbol—one that a parishioner beautifully described as an anointing of my leadership among you. That moment revealed the soul of Talmadge Hill: a community unafraid of silence, willing to let meaning unfold rather than rushing to fill the space, and trusting that the Spirit speaks through both word and gesture. How fitting that it happened on Poetry Sunday, when we celebrated a church that has always understood that poetry, music, and beauty are not ornamental but essential—languages that can hold the complexity and wonder of this liminal season we're walking through together.
This coming Sunday, as we observe the National Observance of Children's Sabbaths, I invite you to show up with open hearts as we contemplate how Talmadge Hill is called to walk into what Parker Palmer calls the "tragic gap"—that tender space between the world as it is and the world as we know it could and should be, between our deep commitments and our present reality. Palmer reminds us that this gap is where all significant transformation happens, but only if we learn to stand in it rather than flee from its discomfort.
A significant portion of our budget flows toward the welfare of children through direct assistance and the work of justice and mercy. This is a testament to our unwavering commitment to the most vulnerable among us. Yet each Sunday, we also experience the bittersweet reality that our own children's ministry has changed significantly. This liminal space brings both growth and anxiety, grief and possibility.
True to the spirit of Talmadge Hill, we are not asked to suppress these complex feelings but are invited to live into them with courage and authenticity. Henri Nouwen teaches us about the paradox of the "wounded healer"—the understanding that our own wounds, when acknowledged and offered with compassion, become sources of healing for others. This is a comforting truth that we hold dear at Talmadge Hill. Nouwen writes: "Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not 'How can we hide our wounds?' so we don't have to be embarrassed, but 'How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?'
Similarly, Palmer's concept of "standing in the tragic gap" calls us to hold the tension between our reality and our vision without succumbing to either corrosive cynicism or irrelevant idealism. Instead, we remain faithfully present to what is, while keeping our hearts open to what might yet emerge.
On Sunday, we will contemplate Mark 10:13-16 as we explore the sermon theme, "Living as the Beloved." In our busy, achievement-oriented lives, it's easy to believe our worth is something we must earn, prove, and constantly protect. We see this very human impulse in the disciples when they try to keep the children away from a seemingly important Jesus, as if childhood itself disqualifies someone from the presence of the holy. But the children in the story model a completely different, more freeing way of being. They don't perform or strive; they come with open hands to be held and blessed. They embody what Nouwen calls our "belovedness"—the foundational truth that we are loved not for what we do, but for who we are.
Join us as we reflect on this liberating call from Jesus: to lay down our anxious striving and learn to live from our most authentic identity as God's beloved children. In a season where Talmadge Hill itself is learning to receive God's blessing rather than manufacture its own security, this ancient story speaks with particular power.
I am looking forward to seeing you in worship on Sunday.
Mooi Loop,
Dries