As you're probably aware, colleges and universities across the country are moving to "online delivery" of education. In other words, classes will temporarily meet via software like Zoom or Skype for Business until the time comes that COVID-19, aka coronavirus, is no longer at a pandemic level. Most times, this also includes the cancellation of all events on campus, and in some extreme cases, closure of residence halls as well. At Capital, we're keeping dining and housing up and running to ensure all students have access to food and shelter; however, we've cancelled all official gatherings scheduled to happen on our campus, whether hosted by student organizations, university offices, and outside organizations. We just announced this decision over 24 hours ago, and already I've had dozens of conversations with people who feel increasingly isolated by this necessary move to isolation.
So, rather than simply suspend worship until further notice, we've decided to host online versions of worship during our regularly scheduled times. Though we might feel like we're all alone in our worship, like the tiny chapel built for one above, one of the blessings of the digital age is that this restriction on gathering mustn't include absolute isolation. We can, and should, connect with our siblings in Christ to worship. We can, and should, continue our Lenten journeys. We can, and should, provide vital precautions to prevent infecting the most vulnerable people in our communities, as well as the very vulnerable neighbors we've never met but will come across in the grocery store, on the bus, or at work. So, we worship in this way temporarily, with the grand hope of returning to worship together in the same room. Until then, our small worship spaces are bound together by the Holy Spirit and the World Wide Web, raising a chorus to God of faith, hope, and love.
I'm thankful to Capital junior Nicky Gutierrez, who was planning to preach this sermon at Candlelight, our Thursday night worship service, and instead worked ahead to record it so we can place it here and share it during worship on Facebook Live at 9:09PM on March 12th. If you've come across this page, you've come to the right place. Give it a listen.
So, rather than simply suspend worship until further notice, we've decided to host online versions of worship during our regularly scheduled times. Though we might feel like we're all alone in our worship, like the tiny chapel built for one above, one of the blessings of the digital age is that this restriction on gathering mustn't include absolute isolation. We can, and should, connect with our siblings in Christ to worship. We can, and should, continue our Lenten journeys. We can, and should, provide vital precautions to prevent infecting the most vulnerable people in our communities, as well as the very vulnerable neighbors we've never met but will come across in the grocery store, on the bus, or at work. So, we worship in this way temporarily, with the grand hope of returning to worship together in the same room. Until then, our small worship spaces are bound together by the Holy Spirit and the World Wide Web, raising a chorus to God of faith, hope, and love.
I'm thankful to Capital junior Nicky Gutierrez, who was planning to preach this sermon at Candlelight, our Thursday night worship service, and instead worked ahead to record it so we can place it here and share it during worship on Facebook Live at 9:09PM on March 12th. If you've come across this page, you've come to the right place. Give it a listen.
| Nicky Gutierrez - Sermon on Isaiah 53 |
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