Journey Church of Folsom California

As we enter Lent, we look to Holy Week and Easter. It has become a tradition at Journey Church to mark the 40 days of Lent by contributing to the One Great Hour of Sharing offering (OGHS) taken on Palm Sunday. The OGHS offering goes to worldwide mission efforts across the globe, on every continent and including the United States. OGHS supports efforts to alleviate hunger and provide for the self-development of people. Members of our community are encouraged to save a spec...ific amount for each of the forty days of Lent. A dollar a day totals a $40 donation; .25 cents a day = $10; $5 a day = $200. The Lenten discipline of praying for the world and caring for the hungry is as important as the amount you give. To make it a bit easier to serve Christ, we have created an electronic method of giving. You can give once or set up a re-occurring donation. There is a comment field for giving instructions. Blessings to you! Stay safe!

Good Morning, Please join us in worship using the below link. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xam494pESDs Today's scriptures are:... Old Testament, Psalm 16 and New Testament, John 20: 19-23. Blessings! See more

Good Morning Worship Family! Here is the link for the second Sunday of Easter. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmJCvc2chAA... The Scripture Readings are: Old Testament: Psalm 133 New Testament: I John 1:10 May the peace of Christ be with you....

Eighth Day and Bright Week Revelation 21:1-6 Have you been to church eight days in a row wearing only a white robe? If so, call me, I want to meet you. The early fourth-century church traditionally baptized new Christians during the three-day Great Vigil of Easter. The baptism included full immersion, anointing with scented oil, and a white cloth garment to wear. The newly baptized Christians continued to wear those white baptismal garments for the eight days following East...er. During these eight days (or Pascal Octave), the new Christians would attend worship services filled with catechesis, and they would carry around a Christ candle. These newly baptized folks were easy to spot in their bright baptismal garments attending eight days of catechism with their bright candle lit. It was, indeed, a Bright Week! Eight is a special number in traditions of the churchJewish families circumcise on day eight after birth; fonts in our sanctuaries are eight-sided; and some sanctuaries are intentionally built with eight sides. Even the columbarium where I serve is octagonal. The women found Christ’s empty tomb the day after the sabbath (Mark 16:1-2). Sabbath is day seven of the week. Instead of starting again with day one of the week, Christ’s resurrection ushered in a new era. Day eight became the day when God has made the newly baptized as new creations and the day when God redeemed all of creation and made it new. These eight days after Pascha are set apart as a time without time, a time of being closer to God, a time when Christ might literally return. Many use Eighth Day theologically to describe that day that is beyond time, that day when we are in perfect communion with Christ, that day when God will wipe away every tear and there will be no more mourning and no more crying. That eighth day was two thousand years ago and the eighth day that is yet to come. You and I may not be new Christians, but this year has transformed us. It is due time to look at our baptismal promises anew and reorient ourselves to this one whom the women did not find in the tomb. In many ways, we are all Eighth Day People and our whole lives are spent in Bright Weekjust baptized, daily learning about Christ, and the shine from our fresh baptism can still be seen. Sally Wright

He has risen! He has risen indeed! Happy Easter and welcome to our Easter worship celebration.... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwB6Hokmr6A Peace be with you, Cathy

He has risen! This Easter's Lenten Lexicon courtesy of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. Easter/Pascha 1 Corinthians 5:7-8; alternatively 1 Peter 1:18-21... Freedom, liberation, life-saving, life-giving, kill the fatted calf, promised land in sight, choirs of angels singing, creation rejoicing, a new dawn, fresh air, feast, abundance, Passover, Paschal lamb, death, resurrection. Pascha in Hebrew means Passover, signifying the Jewish feast when freedom from the bondage in Egypt is celebrated. For us as Christians, we, too, need liberating from sin and death. Jesus Christ is our Paschal lamb. Easter is our celebration or feast where the death and resurrection of Christ frees us from the bondage of sin, death, and evil. Coughing, sputtering. Wild eyes darting all around. Gasps of breath. Looking for a point of reference. Facing East. On Easter morn, your new life begins. Your baptismal eyes see afresh all that God is doing. Your eyes of grace now see. This is what happens when you surface from your baptismal waters. You may not remember your baptism if you were baptized as an infant. Others of us remember the sprinkling we received. Others remember the sputtering and coughing. No matter how your physical baptism happened, your new life begins out of those waters. It’s not something for the afterlife, this resurrection thing. This freedom. This life-saving, life-giving love. It happens every year. Every Sunday. For every Sunday is a mini-Easter. Even those Sundays in Lent! Otherwise, Lent is forty-six days. We often practice Easter as a one-time-a-year event. We celebrate our baptisms perhaps once a year on Baptism of the Lord Sunday. What would Easter look like if each Sunday we saw the world with new eyes? With new life? With our Lord appearing among us resurrected? Dare we say, what if we are resurrected every Sunday from sin and death? This is what we proclaim on Easter. That Death’s snares have no hold, for in Christ we are made new. Anyone who is in Christ is a new creation, the old life is gone and a new life has begun. Easter. Freedom. Over and over again. In the congregation I serve, we pour the water every Sunday in our baptismal font. I speak the words above. And then I have begun to add a few more words. Welcome Home. You see that is what sin and death do to us. They take us away from God’s home. The home where we are known and cleansed. The home that gives us life and sustenance. Sin and death want you to believe you have no home. But alas, when the waters wash over you every Sunday, every Easter, every day, you are made new in grace and love. Kill the fatted calf. You have made it home. So on every Easter our final words are these Alleluia! and God’s words to us are welcome home, child. Lisa Juica Perkins

Today we wait in hope. Please enjoy two Lenten Lexicons courtesy of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. Easter Vigil Psalm 136...Continue reading

Lenten Lexicon courtesy of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. Veneration of the Cross John 3:13-17; alternatively Revelation 22:1-2... Veneration of the Cross as part of the Good Friday ritual traces its roots to the fourth century in Jerusalem where pieces of wood believed to be fragments of the original cross were placed on the table. The faithful would come forward, bow, and touch the wood with their forehead, eyes, and lips. Our modern practices include undraping of the cross, the procession of a rough-hewn wooden cross which is placed in front of the people, and the approach of the faithful to bow or kneel, place a hand on or kiss the cross, and pray. In the Good Friday liturgy, venerating the cross typically occurs after the solemn intercessions and before the solemn reproaches. Venerating the cross is a symbol of devotion. It is not, however, worship of the cross as an object. Rather, in our devotion, we remember Christ whom we worship as Savior of the world. In the continuation of the conversation with Nicodemus recorded in John 3, Jesus says, And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. Jesus’s reference to Moses placing a bronze serpent on a pole in Numbers 21:9 is likely identifying his coming crucifixion as a lifting up. However, it is more than simply foreshadowing Jesus being lifted up on the cross. In John’s gospel, the crucifixion is not just the horrifying execution of Jesus as portrayed in the synoptic Gospels. For John, Jesus is also being lifted up as king. His enthronement becomes complete in John 19:30It is finished. The Son of Man is lifted up that all might behold the redemption represented thereby. John 3:16-17 reminds us that, in our veneration of the cross, we should recall the salvation offered by the cross as the fulfillment of incarnationthe Word made fleshwhich begins John’s gospel. Jesus saves us through the cross not simply as a future promise of eternal life. Taken together these verses remind us that God entered our finite world in the person of Jesus to redeem us not just at a future point in our linear conception of time. Jesus also came to save us that through Him we may be in relationship with God in the right now. This, too, is the good news proclaimed in the lifting up of the Son of Man. Kevin Henderson

Lenten Lexicon courtesy of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary Good Friday Isaiah 53:3-6... On this day we remember and mourn the crucifixion of Jesus. In years past, we’ve gathered on this day to read the story of Christ’s trial and death. To sing Were You There. To extinguish candles one by one, lowering the light of the sanctuary until it is shrouded in the darkness of the tomb. This year, though we long to gather, we need not extinguish candles in order to feel the darkness of the tomb. We have been in it for more than a year now. One by one, life after precious life has been lost to sickness and disregard for human life. One by one, the beautiful light of each of these lives has been extinguished. Yes, we have found ourselves in the darkness of the tomb for too long. Yet we are called to remember on this day, that even Good Friday belongs to the God of Easter. Which is to say that Good Friday is a crucial part of the story of redemption that God is writing. I once spent a summer in Guatemala City, where I was surprised to find that every depiction of Christ I saw (and I saw them everywhere) was of our suffering Lord. Though I expected to see Catholic crucifixes, I was not prepared to see so often a Jesus that was unfamiliar to me at that time bloody and broken, carrying his cross. Wherever there was art, it seemed, there was a painted or woven cross-bearing God. Over time, I began to understand. In places and times of great pain (where poverty is immense and genocide recent, for example) it is the cross-bearing Jesus, more than his empty cross, that brings hope. For it is this God that knows our pain. This God who walks alongside us in our suffering. This God who endures with us when relief is not yet in sight. This God in whom we can find meaningfulness in living, even when life is marked by broken hearts and broken bodies. We have been in the tomb for too long now. But today we remember that even here, we are with Jesus. May we walk with our cross-bearing God. May we see more clearly those who are bearing crosses around us. May we help to bear the weight. And may we prepare our hearts for Easter. Jean Corbitt

Lenten Lexicon courtesy of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary Solemn Reproaches Psalm 78:10-17... Good Friday is a day filled with unending irony. The way by which the church gathers is to sit with the truth of how love can be crucified. The role humanity embodies in the horrific event of the crucifixion of Christ is present. Richard Miesel writes in The Good Friday Liturgy and Anti-Semitism, The reproaches have been described as ‘unsurpassed in warmth, in poetic grandeur, and in biblical inspiration.’ Indeed, there are few liturgies in the entire calendar of the worship year in the church encapsulating the covenant of God and God’s people alongside the sorrow engulfing the world when the relationship is betrayed. The liturgy of the reproaches invites the church to hear the words of Jesus speaking to all the sinners of the earth. In the worship event of Good Friday, the church participates in the awareness of who is responsible for the death of Christwhich is all of us. Through the history of the Christian church, the liturgy found in the reproaches is to place the blame of the cross directly upon the entity of the Jewish people. Sadly, it took almost two millennia for the Christian church to revisit the subtext of reciting liturgy embracing anti-Semitism especially in the context of the crucifixion. The imagery of Israel in the approaches contributed to placing blame solely on the Jews. Thankfully, the liturgy endured a recast in writing by which the entire people of God were placed at the foot of the cross to hear the cries of Jesus as he dies. In shortthe solemn reproaches of the cross is the culmination of sinners before the cross of Christ. The liturgy is the call and answer of Jesus and the church through eleven cycles. Each time Jesus utters who we as a church were made to be and who we have becomethe church answers with the same cry each time: Holy God, Holy and mighty, Holy immortal One, have mercy on us. The solemn reproaches of the cross can be read or sung. Music enhances the drama of the afternoon and one suggestion as a resource is the Robert Buckley Farlee condensed version with soprano, SATB, and piano. The last words sung/spoken on Good Friday by the church: have mercy on us. Then, all depart in silence. Monica Hall

Lenten Lexicon courtesy of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary Solemn Intercessions 1 Timothy 2:1-6; alternatively John 19:25b-27... Solemn intercessions sit at the heart of the human relationship with God. Just as we are reminded in our 1 Timothy reading for today, the body of Christ is invited to pray for the world and all that is in it, joining with Christ in an open embrace for all of God’s beloved creation. We pray for those in power as well as those without power. We pray for those who have a lot as well as those who have nothing. In this posture of prayer, we join our voices with the choirs of voices who know that the kingdom has not yet come and justice has not prevailed. We come before God and one another bringing the afflictions of the world, hoping for the day every tear will be wiped away and there will be no more death, mourning, crying, or pain (Revelation 21:4). While we first experienced Lent in a pandemic last year, this Lent brings new and different burdens. The weight of exhaustion after more than a year in unprecedented times; the separation that never seems to end; continued hope in the midst of a foggy future. We carry the weight of a society crying out for truth, justice, and reconciliation. There is so much pain and suffering in the world. We have a lot to bring before God. In this moment, we join our voices together and pray not only for our own sin but for the sins we witness. We know that no matter what we do here on earth in pursuit of the kingdom, the kingdom will not be fulfilled without God’s divine intervention. We humble ourselves in the presence of God and each other, remembering that in life and death we belong to God, and thus we ask God to intervene in the matters of this world. We pray for everyone, in all positions, for all creation that God might hear our afflictions and we might be changed by the power of the Holy Spirit. As we look toward Easter, may we remember the needs of the world. May we carry the truth that the promise of Easter is for all of God’s creation. May we pray together, even when we are apart. Savannah Caccamo Demuynck

Lenten Lexicon courtesy of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary Stripping of the Altar Matthew 27:26b-31; alternatively Psalm 88... In many churches, after sharing the Eucharist on Maundy Thursday, worshipers end their time together by stripping the altar. In my congregation, the lights are dimmed and, with tender care, we cover the cross in black cloth and remove all the paraments from the chancel. This solemn action transitions us into Good Friday, when we will assemble in a space laid bare of reminders of our hope in Christ. The tripping of the altar is our invitation to feel in our bodies that very forsakenness and abandonment that Jesus would experience in his suffering and death. The solemnity of the moment strikes in us a sense of pain as we imagine Jesus being stripped, mocked, and spat on by Roman soldiers. In some traditions, the words of Psalm 88 fill the forlorn sanctuary. They echo through our bodies as we depart in silence and shadow. The stripping of the altar is a hinge between Thursday and Friday, beckoning us across the threshold into the second of the Great Three Days. What does this mean for us during this season where suffering has lingered over our lives? A year since the pandemic first captured our attention, we feel the groan of abandonment in our very bones. We mourn the catastrophic coronavirus death toll, hundreds of thousands in the U.S. and millions worldwide. We remember the black and brown lives cut short at the hands of injustice. We strain to hear bold and compassionate witness; the silence of Christians is palpable. In many ways, stripping the altar is an invitation for us to remember who in our midst is abandoned, suffering, and forsaken. In the laments of the psalmist, may we hear the cries of our siblings, moaning I can’t breathe, and Mama. As symbols of faith slip from our sight, may we glimpse what sorrow and systemic injustice have laid bare. May we linger in the darkness for a moment and ponder, How will I be a witness at the foot of the cross? Go forth in silence but return tomorrow, for silence does not have the last word. Hierald Osorto

Lenten Lexicon, courtesy of Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary Maundy Thursday John 13:12-17, 34-35 (or, John 13:1-17, 31-35)... Peter said to him, You will never wash my feet. Jesus answered, Unless I wash you, you have no share with me. I said to him, You will never wash my feet. Never. I’m a professional footwasher, Jesus. Actually, I was educated at a first-rate institution for footwasher types. But even before thata long, long time before that family life shaped me into a footwasher. My personality’s rooted in the fulfillment of helping.’ You know this, Jesus. I was ordained to wipe the dust off others’ heels, to scrub the gunk between their toes. That’s what people expect of me. That’s why they ‘pay me the big bucks.’ That’s what I’m here for. That’s my role. Heck, that’s my identity! He sat there, silently, staring into my eyes with that look of his, that look that pierces into my soul with equal parts knowledge and grace. Then he got up, and without saying a word, filled the bucket with water from the faucet. He snatched a towel from the rack, slung it over his shoulders, walked over to me, and with a groan crouched onto the floor. Then he began I saw the face of Jesus when the 92-year -old parishioner lay dying in the room of the care homeafter I, kneeling beside her bed, clasping her hand, rounded out the prayer with amenbegan praying in a faint voice for me, asking for God to guide me in my ministry. I saw his face when the man from El Salvador seeking asylum having crossed three international borders, ridden atop a freight train for hundreds of miles, shivered in an I.C.E. holding cell at the border, was then shuttled to my church where he slept for two nights on a cot right before boarding a three-day Greyhound ride to a city across the country he’s never been toplaced his hands on my head in a gesture of blessing, Señor, gracias por este pastor, hermano mío. Por favor protégelo Greg Boyle calls it exquisite mutuality. It’s in each of those moments when the Teacher flips the script on me and, through the voice and hands of the person I’m trying to serve, bathes me with his compassionate presence, I remember his commandment: love and serve one another. And somehow it sinks into my guarded heart that his command is for us to receive as well as give. Bart Smith