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I learned this week that a colleague of mine, who served a prominent progressive Baptist church in Charlotte, NC, lost his job for preaching about the moment we face as Christians in the wake of the presidential election. This was shocking to me because Ben is a gifted and faithful preacher who grounds his sermons in scripture and history, no matter the pastoral or prophetic perspective he takes. Clearly, his “free pulpit” wasn’t as free as he thought.
His story is a sobering reminder of the challenges we face when we choose to live and preach a Cross and Resurrection Christianity—when we choose to be disciples who confront hard truths, stand in solidarity with those who suffer, and proclaim hope in the face of despair. It is a reminder that the powers and principalities who tell us to just think happy thoughts do so in order to maintain power and privilege, a comfort built on the suffering of others.
To be honest, it is tempting to embrace a “sunshine” faith—one that thrives only in times of comfort and avoids the messiness of real discipleship. But the Gospel calls us to more. It calls us to live in the tension of the Cross and the Resurrection, to bear witness to both suffering and hope.
Our Advent texts this year are full of that same tension—a season of waiting, longing, and preparing for the coming of Christ. Advent asks us to hold together the old and the new: the ancient promises of hope and redemption alongside the newness of Christ breaking into our world in unexpected ways.
The women at the Cross and the tomb understood this tension deeply. In the face of suffering and loss, the women around Jesus refused to turn away. And when the time
came, they actually walked toward the tomb—not because they knew what they would find, but because they were compelled by love and faithfulness.
Advent calls us to embody that same love and faithfulness. It calls us to honor the "something old" of our faith’s enduring promises while embracing the "something new" of God’s transforming work in our lives and in the world.
Because of that, I have been thinking this week of all the pastors I know who are compelled by love and faithfulness, and who preach the Cross and the Resurrection, knowing that this could risk their livelihoods, their health insurance, and their family’s stability. And, this is nothing new. Our own Obed Dickinson knew the cost of discipleship. Like the women who stayed at the Cross, he didn’t leave Salem when things got difficult. He bore witness to the injustice of his day, even as his heart broke.
This act of staying present in the face of pain is a profound act of faith. It’s a refusal to look away from injustice, grief, or suffering. It’s a commitment to be there for others, even when it’s hard.
For us today, staying at the Cross might mean:
Speaking truth to power, even when it might cost us security or ease.
Standing in solidarity with the marginalized and oppressed, even when it might mean we become targets ourselves.
Remaining present with those who are suffering, even when it is inconvenient or uncomfortable.
But why would we do this?
The key word here is WE. Not all of us, as individuals, have the capacity to speak, stand, or remain in every moment. But as a congregation, WE do it because we believe the story doesn’t end at the Cross. WE trust that, like the women who bore witness to Jesus’ suffering and became the first to proclaim the good news of the Resurrection, WE have enough faith and courage to keep moving forward.
Like the women heading to the tomb, WE don’t always know what we will find on the other side. Yet, like them, WE keep going out of love and faithfulness. And like the Magi who journeyed from far-off lands, following only a star and a promise, WE come—offering what we have, not knowing exactly what we will encounter but trusting that the journey matters.
Let us remember that because of the women’s courage, they became the first preachers of the Gospel, declaring, “He is not here; He is risen!” And because of the Magi’s faithfulness, they were among the first to kneel before the light of the world, offering gifts of love and devotion.
For me, I hear Ben’s decision to preach that sermon as an act of faith. Like the women at the tomb, it is about moving forward even when the outcome is uncertain. It’s about proclaiming hope and life in the midst of fear and uncertainty, anxiety and despair.
The women at the Cross and the tomb challenge us to join them and live as Cross and Resurrection Christians:
To stay present in suffering and bear witness to the pain of the world.
To walk toward the tomb with courage and faith, even when the way is unclear.
To proclaim the Good News of hope and renewal, no matter the cost.
Advent calls us to this same faithfulness. It is a season of waiting and walking—a season of holding the tension of the Cross and the Resurrection even as we wait for the baby, knowing that Christ has come and is coming again.
Ben’s story reminds me, and I hope it reminds all of us, how costly this kind of faithfulness can be. It challenges me to think about what I am willing to risk, and what we, as a congregation, are willing to risk, to truly live as followers of Jesus. And, it also shows us how necessary it is—how the Gospel calls us to stand firm, even when it’s hard, even when it costs us something. In this moment in U.S. and world history, when fear and division seem to dominate, our commitment to be a Resurrecting Church is a commitment to be a community that embraces the tension of the Cross and the Resurrection, to be a people who bring hope, healing, and transformation into the world.
To be a Resurrecting Church means we rise from the tomb of complacency and proclaim the possibility of something new. It means we stand in the pain of injustice and declare that love and faithfulness will have the last word. In a time when it feels like the weight of history is pressing down on us, this is our moment to bear witness to the power of Love.
So let us get up. Let us walk toward the manger and the Cross, the tomb and the road to Emmaus. Let us carry the light of Advent—hope, peace, joy, and love—into a world yearning for its glow. Let us trust that God walks with us in the work of transforming fear into courage, despair into hope, and death into new life. This is the call of a Resurrecting Church—this Advent, and always.
With solidarity and hope,
Pastor Robin
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