Rev. Valarie Englert, Senior Pastor

In the daily lectionary this week, one of the morning Psalms (there are two morning Psalms and two evening Psalms for each day) was a particularly beautiful one, Psalm 42.

It begins:

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.


These opening verses may be familiar to you; they are the words to a hymn that our congregation has sung many times, and it is a favorite of many (me included).

As I read these words this week, I let the psalmist speak for me:

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.

When shall I come and behold the face of God?

My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, ‘Where is your God?

The seemingly endless pandemic, the state of our country and the divisions that have opened into chasms have made my soul very thirsty for God and for the divine healing presence.

One of the great beauties of scripture is that it can speak for us when we struggle for words, when it becomes difficult to describe the turmoil rumbling around in our very bodies, when the future seems so cloudy and uncertain.

I am grateful for the words of the psalmist.

Then I encountered verse 4:

These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng, and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival … 

…and all of the sadness of the last six months washed over me in an instant.

miss terribly gathering in our sanctuary every week.

I miss the sharing of Holy Communion, the singing of hymns, the shared, spoken-aloud prayer concerns.

I miss seeing you all face-to-face each Sunday morning, and the warm greetings of folks I pass in the hallway as I speed toward the sacristy to don my robe and stole with fellow worship leaders.

I miss those few moments on the chancel as I await the start of the prelude.

I miss the way the light comes through the stained glass windows just so, and the gathering of our children with Pastor Caroline on the chancel steps.

I miss the singing, bell playing, and uke strumming of all of our choirs.

I miss so much, and I know you do, too.

Yet even in the midst of such sudden, unimaginable change, we manage to come together every week to worship virtually.

There is a sense of togetherness as the worship service streams over our devices.

It must be a God-thing, because I cannot imagine anyone or anything but God’s Spirit who is able to infuse cyberspace with a sense of the Holy.

I am thankful that the psalmist reminds us of God’s faithfulness, no matter what:

Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts; all your waves and your billows have gone over me. 

By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.


This, too, shall pass. All of this. The pandemic. The strife. The deep divide.

And God is with us, and will remain with us and all creation for eternity.

The love of our God in Christ will pull us ever deeper into the very heart of God’s Kingdom – we just need to say “yes” and allow God to have God’s own loving, grace-filled way.

In God’s steadfast love and faithfulness, our souls rest, and our thirst is quenched.

May God’s peace be with you today, tomorrow and every day.

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