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2/27/2026 0 Comments Through the Wilderness March arrives in Ohio the way Lent itself arrives, quietly, without fanfare, still carrying the chill of winter even as the first hints of something warmer stir beneath the surface (and in typical Ohio fashion we get, cold, warm, cold, warm…). It is a month that holds its breath. And in the life of the Church, it is a month that invites us to do the same.
Lent is one of the oldest seasons in the Christian year, and one of the most misunderstood. Many people grew up thinking of it primarily as a time of giving something up: of small self-imposed discomforts that somehow honored God. And while fasting and self-discipline have their rightful place, that way of thinking can miss the real heart of the season. Lent is not fundamentally about deprivation. It is about orientation. The word itself comes from an old English word for spring - lengthening days, light returning. Lent is a season of preparation, of repentance, of renewal. It is the Church's ancient practice of accompanying those preparing for baptism at Easter, and of inviting all the baptized to return to the waters of their own baptismal identity. Who are we? We are people who belong to Jesus Christ. Which isn’t a claim we earn; rather it is a grace we keep learning to receive. The Heidelberg Catechism - that beautiful inheritance from our German Reformed ancestors - opens with a question that has echoed across centuries of faithful living: What is your only comfort in life and in death? (I refer to this often in sermons because it is so important). The answer points not to anything we have accomplished, but to the simple, astonishing fact that we belong - body and soul - to our faithful Savior. Lent is the season when we allow that truth to sink deeper into us than it has gone before. Our tradition at St. John's is shaped by this German Evangelical and Reformed heritage, a stream of faith that has always insisted on holding Word and Sacrament together. We are people of the Book and people of the Table/Altar. Lent, for us, is not a retreat into private spirituality - though it certainly invites personal reflection - but a journey we take together as a congregation, as the body of Christ, embodied and accountable to one another. The historic liturgical seasons do not simply mark time; they form us. They pull us into something larger than our individual lives and remind us that we are part of a long, living communion stretching back through the centuries. Think of Lent as a refining fire, not one that destroys, but one that clarifies. Or think of it as a gardener's pruning: something is cut back not to diminish the plant but to encourage deeper, truer growth. We are invited, in these forty days, to let God tend to us in ways we might ordinarily resist. Saint Patrick and the Courage of Faith On March 17th, the world puts on green and raises a glass to Ireland. But behind the celebration is a man worth knowing more honestly. Patrick was a fifth-century missionary bishop who had been kidnapped as a teenager from Roman Britain, enslaved in Ireland, escaped after years of captivity, and then, astonishingly, returned to the very people who had enslaved him, carrying the Gospel. What drove him back was not masochism or nostalgia. It was faith, a deep, Trinitarian faith that he famously expressed through the image of the three-leafed clover, a earthy illustration of the great mystery of God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Patrick's faith crossed the most difficult of boundaries: the boundary between captor and captive, between oppressor and the one wronged. He went anyway. He built bridges where walls might have been more understandable. There is something here for us, in a world still learning how to cross its own divides. Our calling as the Church is always toward the other, toward the stranger, toward the one from whom we might have reason to turn away. Patrick's example, whatever legends have accumulated around it, points toward a courage of faith that costs something and means something. The Feast of the Annunciation: Mary's Yes March 25th brings us one of the oldest feasts in the Christian year: the Annunciation of the Lord: the moment when the angel Gabriel appeared to a young woman in Nazareth and asked her to carry the Son of God into the world. And Mary said yes. Our tradition, shaped as it is by the Reformation, has sometimes been hesitant around Mary, not wanting to give the impression of elevating her above Jesus Christ. That instinct is understandable. But the Annunciation is not really about elevating Mary. It is about what God chooses to do through willing, ordinary, vulnerable human beings. God did not enter the world as a philosophical concept or a distant decree. God entered through flesh, through risk, through the trust of one young woman who said yes when she could have said no. In the middle of Lent, the Annunciation arrives as a remarkable interruption. It asks us: Are we open? Are we willing? What would it mean to say yes to what God is asking of us - not when we feel ready, but now, in the wilderness of our own unreadiness? Honoring Mary's courage does not diminish Christ. It magnifies what God can accomplish through any heart that remains open. Palm Sunday and the Walk into Holy Week On March 29th, we gather with palms in our hands and a parade in our hearts. Palm Sunday is one of the most liturgically vivid moments in the entire Church year, the moment Jesus enters Jerusalem to shouts of Hosanna, riding not a warhorse but a donkey, humble and deliberate, fully aware of what awaits him. But Palm Sunday is also a doorway, not a destination. Within days, the same crowd that shouted Hosanna would call for crucifixion. The contrast is not comfortable, and it is not meant to be. The Christian faith does not paper over suffering. It walks through it. I invite you (urgently and warmly) to participate in our Holy Week services. Every day of Holy Week including Maundy Thursday. Good Friday. The Great Vigil of Easter. These are not optional appendices to the Christian year. They are important. We cannot rush to Easter morning without walking through the cross. If we skip straight to the resurrection, we have not truly understood what was overcome. The hope of Easter is made deeper, more real, more hard-won, by our honest confrontation with suffering and death. We live in a culture that moves quickly past pain - that prefers the highlight to the whole story. The Church, at its best, offers something different: the courage to sit with what is hard, to name what is broken, and to trust that even there, even in the tomb, God is already at work. Walking Together There is a reason the Church has observed Lent for nearly two thousand years. Not because suffering is good in itself, or because God demands our misery, but because transformation is real - and transformation takes time, attention, and community. We are not meant to walk this journey alone. At St. John's, we have inherited a faith tradition that takes both the ancient and the living seriously - that values liturgical depth and a justice-shaped welcome, that honors the wisdom of those who came before us while remaining attentive to the world and the neighbors in front of us today. In that spirit, Lent is both a personal and a communal discipline. It is a season for pruning, for honesty, for quiet, and for the slow, patient work of becoming who God is calling us to be. So, I invite you: walk with me through this March. Come to worship. Come to the Table. Bring your questions and your weariness and your hope. Let the season do its work in you. The light is already growing longer. Easter is coming. But first - and faithfully - we walk through the wilderness together. In faith and in fellowship, Pastor Oliver
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10/30/2025 0 Comments Tradition and Transformation Why Liturgy Still MattersEvery Sunday, as the congregation gathers at St. John’s UCC, Massillon, a sacred drama unfolds. The lights, the music, the ancient rhythm of liturgy begins again. For many in our distracted, fast-moving world, these ritual actions may seem anachronistic. But there is wisdom in this sacred drama, offering a spiritual shelter for those longing to be anchored in something real, lasting, and life-giving. Liturgy is not a museum piece nor is it something that only the exotic, ethnic denominations get to enjoy. The liturgy of the Church, the Body of Christ, is a living stream of the Holy Spirit that both connects us to the timeless and transforms us in the here and now. The Sacred Drama and Divine PresenceAt St. John’s Church, worship is rooted in the Mercersburg tradition, which is defined by its devotion to liturgical order grounded in the mystical presence of Christ. In this theology, the drama of worship isn’t stagecraft; it’s the real, transformative meeting place of God and humanity. The altar takes center stage, NOT the pulpit, mediating the mystical presence and making room for a genuine encounter with the divine. We gather as participants in God’s ongoing story, united across generations in prayer, song, and sacrament. This dialog between altar and pew (prayers, responses, and gestures) transforms ordinary people into co-actors in God’s drama. The repetition of the liturgy’s rhythm, the cycle of the church year, and the weekly Eucharist (Communion/Thanksgiving) ground our scattered lives in a narrative of grace and renewal. The depth we seek is found in faithfully receiving, embodying, and passing along the rich faith that precedes us; it isn’t some nostalgic novelty (we don’t have time for that!). Sensory Worship: Embodying the Whole GospelLiturgy reminds us that faith isn’t only for the intellect; it’s an embodied experience for the whole person. The Mercersburg movement (which comes out of the German Reformed tradition) insists that Christianity declares God became flesh, the ultimate act of incarnation. At its heart, liturgy is incarnational: it uses the ordinary (water, bread, human voice) to reveal the extraordinary presence of God. Worship is designed to engage all five senses, drawing us out of isolation and into union with Jesus Christ and our neighbor:
Liturgical Space in a Fragmented WorldIn a world defined by fragmentation, where technology divides, anxiety pervades, and news cycles relentlessly spin, the grounding rituals of liturgy offer crucial spiritual shelter from the weirdness and vileness of the world. The pattern of worship and confessing holds us until our hearts can catch up. The repetition is far from mindless; instead, it is merciful. When our own words fail us, the ancient prayers are still there to remind us that God has not abandoned us.
Liturgy helps us resist fragmentation by centering life around God’s cosmic story, a story bigger than any headline or personal crisis. It teaches us something deeply countercultural: patience, humility, and belonging. Here, tradition isn’t a cage; it’s a pathway to positive change. The ritual doesn’t exclude; it’s meant to include, opening a space where anyone, no matter who they are or where they are on life’s journey, can meet the Holy (right here in Massillon, Ohio). Liturgy still matters because it shapes us into God’s people in a world searching for meaning and connection. It reminds us that transformation happens through trust, through showing up, week after week, to be reshaped by grace. Going to worship should not be a surprise, “What’s the pastor going to do this week? Should we bring our gardening gloves, because we might be heading outside to give thanks to the Earth?” Nothing wrong with giving thanks to the Earth, but the liturgy should follow the sacred rhythms of the Church in a sacred and refined manner, unfolding the sacred drama of our Lord Jesus Christ, not presenting a weekly novelty. 10/28/2025 0 Comments Five Prayers for Difficult SeasonsFinding Courage and Hope Through Honest Prayer Life is filled with seasons of challenge; moments when hardship, frustration, despair, loneliness, or anxiety cast a shadow over our paths. As people of faith shaped by the theology of the Reformation, we remember that God meets us right in our struggles. Martin Luther reminded us that suffering is neither chosen nor meaningless; it is where we most encounter God’s presence and learn to hope, not in our own strength, but in God’s love for us. The following prayers lean into that spirit: admitting our vulnerability, calling on God’s mercy, and trusting that we are never alone.
When Facing Hardship: “God, some days the weight is simply too much. In these moments, remind me that even your Son wept and struggled. Let me feel your nearness in my pain. Help me trust that you are weaving goodness even here, especially when I cannot see it. Hold me strong, Holy One, until hope flickers again. Amen.” Scripture: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” — Psalm 46:1 Reflection: We do not choose our suffering, but God does not abandon us in it. Jesus Christ transforms hardship into holy ground; courage is found not in escape but in God’s companionship. When Overwhelmed by Frustration: “God of patience, when I lose control and anger rises, soothe me. Let your Spirit fill the space between my irritation and my reactions. Show me grace for myself and others. Help me let go, breathe deep, and find perspective. Lead me from frustration toward the peace you promise. Amen.” Scripture: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” — Proverbs 3:5-6 Reflection: Frustration is a human response, but we are invited to pause and seek perspective. In doing so, we honor God’s call to peace and transformation, allowing Christ to work within our reactions. When Consumed by Despair: “Holy One, my hope is thin, my spirit worn. Speak your promise of new life into my darkness. Remind me that even when I despair, your love never tires. Hold my doubts tenderly; whisper that resurrection is always possible. May your presence spark the smallest ember of hope within me. Amen.” Scripture: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” — Lamentations 3:22-23 Reflection: Despair often asks hard questions of faith. Even amid doubts and darkness, God’s promises endure, and new beginnings remain possible, even if only tomorrow. When Struggling With Loneliness: “God, companion to the outcast and alone, draw near to me in this empty space. Surround me with reminders that I am not forgotten. Connect me to your people, and open my heart to receive the love you send, sometimes in unexpected ways. Help me to know that my place in your family is secure. Amen.” Scripture: “I sought the Lord, and he answered me and delivered me from all my fears... Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the one who takes refuge in him!” — Psalm 34:4, 8 Reflection: In loneliness, community becomes a living expression of God’s love. Faith calls us to be both receivers and givers of companionship and solidarity. When Anxious and Afraid: “Loving God, as worries swirl and fear crowds my thoughts, grant me your peace. Quiet my mind; soften my heart. Remind me that I do not have to figure it all out, that I can trust your unfolding story. Anchor my anxiety in your unchanging care. Breathe calm into my soul, that I may rest tonight. Amen.” Scripture: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God... will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 4:6-7 Reflection: Anxiety can feel all-consuming. Faith points us back to God’s promises; true security is found not in our control, but in God’s faithfulness, even when all feels uncertain. Takeaway: Prayer is not about having the “right words,” but about being honest before God who meets us in every emotion and experience. In the tradition of the Reformation, let us cling to grace, lift each other up, and trust that God walks with us, always working for redemption, even in life’s hardest seasons. 3/18/2025 0 Comments Wednesday Morning Communion We have started a Wednesday morning communion service. March 12th, 2025 was our first service and it went very nicely. The service is a combination of Morning Prayer (Lauds) and Communion and most of the service is chanted. Incense is used, but if you are sensitive to incense then we can certainly omit it - we would rather you be here so let us know if you are sensitive to incense.
5/6/2024 0 Comments Events on Saturday May 18th!We have several events happening at St. John's on May 18th, 2024. At 9:00 AM we have our community breakfast, open to the public along with our food pantry. Both are from 9:00 AM until 11:00 AM. Then at Noon we have a lecture, followed by questions, by Rev. Dr. Linda Mercadante who will be talking about the Spiritual But Not Religious.  Then we have another lecture at 3:00 PM with Rev. Dr. Joshua Paszkiewicz.  Then at 4:00 PM we have another lecture by Rev. Dr. Peter Preble and Rev. David Oliver Kling.  I hope to see you then!
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The Rev. David Oliver KlingRev. David Oliver Kling is a 2008 graduate of Wright State University earning Bachelor of Arts degrees in both Philosophy and Religious Studies and is a 2012 graduate of Methodist Theological School in Ohio having earned a Master of Divinity degree specializing in Black Church and African Diaspora Studies. Pastor Oliver is the 2012 recipient of the Interpretation Journal Award in Theology and Biblical Studies upon graduation. By the end of 2013 Pastor Oliver finished a residency in chaplaincy at St. Mary’s Medical Center in Huntington, West Virginia and then moved to the Massillon area to serve as a hospice chaplain. He is also an adjunct professor at a local college teaching medical ethics. Pastor Oliver is all but project/thesis for a Doctor of Ministry degree specializing in leadership for transformational change, and he is passionate about many things including such academic topics as history, philosophy, and open and relational theology on one hand and on the other he is a fan of all things nerdy (science fiction & fantasy). Pastor Oliver is committed to social justice, radical acceptance, and authenticity. He lives in Massillon with his spouse Jacki and their amazing daughter Vivianne. Archives
February 2026
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