Pastor Shellie Brook

A sermon on John 21:1-17. Written for & recorded live at First Congregational Church, Salem, NH. My friends, let’s begin. Today’s sermon title is “go fish.” And for better or worse — no it’s not about the card game. Come, journey with me. Let us remember together that our sacred story isn’t just a story we are called to listen to — but promises we are called to live into. I invite you now to lean in, draw near, and become a part of this story. Let us hear the waves of the sea pounding the disciples’ boat — smell the fish cooking over the warmth of the charcoal fire — in the early morning when light is still crowded with shadows. Let us see Jesus & thus see ourselves in the light of a new dawn. With 3 questions and 153 fish, let us experience grace upon grace. In abundance. 

A sermon on Luke 24:13-35. Written & recorded live at First Congregational Church, Salem, NH on April 23, 2023. The Road to Emmaus reminds us — there is light for the journey ahead because the Light of the world is journeying with us. Yes, even on these thresholds of now and not yet, these dusty, demanding, difficult roads of uncertainty that beckon us on — to come, come and see. Here on this journey — on the road where the light is still crowded with the shadows of the cross — this road between where it seems all is lost and yet the place & promise of resurrection beckons us to “come and see.” We take courage.  We take heart. We take a breath. And another.  Where there are only dry bones the Spirit of Love breathes resurrection Hope.  Shame is changed to praise. The lost have found safe harbor.  There is sanctuary for all. The exiled are home.  Because there is Light for the Journey Ahead.  Because the Light of the World is journeying with us. Leading us in the Way to Abiding Peace and Life Everlasting.  May we find ourselves & be found as we journey.  May it be so. Amen. 

A “sneak peek” into this Sunday’s sermon on John 20:19-31. “Locked doors & doubts can’t keep Jesus out.”

Fridays In Lent. Week 6. Jesus. Stayed. On John 4. A story of after, before & always.

A Sermon On John 11. We journey through litany of tears, songs of lament, the symphony of liberation — through it all with the promise that we are not alone. No one is alone. It’s not a solo. We accompany each other. And Jesus accompanies us. It’s not music that has already been written — framed and formed long ago — it’s improv led by the spirit with & within — yet accented with radiant, resilient echoes of the light of the stories & songs of those who have gone before us — that great cloud of witnesses — cheering us on with the crescendo of applause. Embers of hope rise, we are the new song. And the song ebbs and flows, it is transformed to a song of unbounded joy with a resounding refrain that moves from notes of holy disturbance, disruption and dissonance to a re-centering & resolution as we are called to unbind one another and be fully free, fully alive in this symphony of liberation and love that abides, love that persists, love that is stronger than the darkness of the grave and all that threatens to entomb us to be less than we are called to be. Embers of hope rise, we are the new song. And just as Jesus weeps with us we find Jesus is singing with us!! A song of abundant life & abundant grace!! Yes — Jesus calls us to community, living unbound & unbinding one another, as an expression & movement of faith that declares we see, believe & trust that Jesus is who He says He is.

A Season of Longing & Belonging. Is the LORD among us or not? Making sacred space for lament… while singing the goodness of God. Because faith is a journey of complexity, nuances… finding belonging, finding ourselves as we find God as the One journeying with us. Peace in the journey.

Blessed are we, dust & starlight. We, the new song. Embers of hope rise. Yes, blessed are we, dust & starlight. So friends, as this Lenten journey begins. We take a moment to breathe in deeply, to place ourselves inside this story… And we make space for one another and for ourselves. To lament as a sacred expression of trust in the Love that holds us in our grief and loss, our doubts and uncertainties. And to hold the nuanced complexities of journeying with this holy knowing that the story isn’t over, our sacred story isn’t over. As we journey, we lift up our eyes. And we wait. And deep in the hidden places of our hearts, the broken edges of our stories, the places that most need hope & light. We wait. We listen. We remember. These 2 words “but God.” And we hear the voice of Love call and invite us to descend… knowing we will be called to rise. As its own kind of benediction today — in this sacred space, during this holy pause, a ritual of remembering. Here are the words I use “from ashes to ashes, dust to dust, may you know that God is with you. You are loved & beloved of God. Called by name. From first to final breath. For eternity and for always.” May it be so. May you journey well. Love is with you. Peace.

February 5, 2023 A sermon on John 21:9-17 written for First Congregational Church, Westminster (Vermont). Let us remember together that our sacred story isn’t just a story we are called to listen to — but promises we are called to live into. Can we be as brave as the stories we tell? Can the truth of who we are, of whose we are — dominate the landscape with light — banishing the shadows? Will we follow after Jesus close enough that we are covered by the dust of his feet? And as we follow Jesus, from dust to glory, can we leave footprints of grace & mercy, as we journey gently in this world? This is our anthem of hope. As God gives us courage to enter the story, to enter the song — to find God with us & within us, as close as our next breath. Breathing in the grace of this moment. Each moment as we journey — for our God is the God who journeys with us. So I invite you now — to take a deep breath, exhale, take a deeper breath, exhale. Lean in, draw near. Let us hear the waves of the sea pounding the disciples’ boat — smell the fish cooking over the warmth of the charcoal fire — in the early morning when light is still crowded with shadows. Let us see Jesus & thus see ourselves in the light of a new dawn. So it begins.

A Sermon on Matthew 5:1-16 written by Pastor Shellie Brook for First Congregational Church, Westminster Vermont. Even in the valley of shadows. Even in the valley of dry bones. Even there you hold me fast. You are with me. And the psalmist says. My cup overflows. Blessings runneth over. Not because of where we find ourselves, but because we find God with us — in every part of the journey — our God is the God who journeys with us. Jesus says “you are blessed because I said so.” Even when the world says you are nothing. When those who are called to love you wound you more deeply than words can say. In the places of grief beyond weeping. At the tomb of all you hoped for. In the dust, the ashes, the ruin. When there is only defeat & despair. When your own internal narrative says you are worthless. When you are not at home within yourself. When we look at the conflict outside of us & within us. When we forget who we are. When we forget whose we are. We need to lean in and hear Jesus say — “you are blessed. Because I said so. I call you by name. I call you beloved. You belong. You are blessed.” AND we need to remind each other “God calls you by name. God calls you beloved. God says you belong. You are blessed because I said so, And I said so, because God says so. Hallelujah & Amen.” 

January 8, 2023 — A Sermon on Acts 10:34-43 — Written by Pastor Shellie Brook, for Madbury UCC.  This re-visioning that comes from the Spirit continues in our sacred story as we embody this kind of radical grace, ever-widening welcome today. The message is not simply “God doesn’t have favorites.“ Because God is the God of impartiality, we are called to be a people of impartiality. Because God makes peace with us, we are called to make peace with others. Again our sacred story isn’t just something we hear but promises we live! That promise is not that there are no outsiders — but that outsiders are welcomed with VIP seating at the table. The promise is not that there are no more people pushed to the edges & the margins of society — but that they will be drawn in, invited, embraced as God’s own. The Spirit breaks into our hearts, our lives, our stories — and brings re-visioning: a new way of seeing our church, our world, ourselves. Throughout this sacred story AND our own sacred stories — God calls us by name. God calls us beloved. God calls us forward in the journey to be a people who live the witness of radial grace, ever-widening welcome & continuing testament. Hallelujah & Amen. https://www.the-rev-shellie-brook.com/revisioning

HOLY HOPE — A New Year’s Day Sermon On Ezekiel 37:1-14 As we journey into a new year so much will depend upon how we see the world around us & the weariness within us. So I invite you to settle in, drop your shoulders, release any heaviness you may be carrying, any busy-ness that’s pressing in the corners of your mind, distractions stretching wide to take up space in your heart. Our physical posture often impacts our spiritual posture, our openness. Take a breath in and out, now a deeper one and exhale. We breathe approx 22,000 times a day: that’s about 15 times a minute; each of us will breathe about 900 times during our worship service today — if you’re a math person wanting to work out that equation. I encourage you to be mindful of your breathing, in and out, this rhythm of life that sustains us. And come journey with me in the valley of dry bones. https://www.the-rev-shellie-brook.com/holy-hope

First preached at Lee Church Congregational. August 2022. 

Sermon transcript available at https://www.the-rev-shellie-brook.com/what-are-you-looking-at