I recall preaching a sermon that may have come out of the oven too early. The kind that turns to paste in your mouth as you preach it. I was aware while preaching that I may not have considered the life experiences of those listening.

Once a word is spoken, it takes on a life of its own. God created by word, and ten seconds on social media reminds us that words create worlds. I finished the message. Sat down. Went to the next element of worship.

We enjoyed our fellowship time of weak Methodist coffee, butter mints, and a few greasy Spanish peanuts that had surely been in the last-chance bin. Everyone had gone, except one of the saints, Lulu. Lulu had the kind of spiritual maturity I still seek as a Wesleyan here to grow in love; I ask that grace would make me more like her on the way to being more like Jesus. She also had about fifty years more experience with the planet than I.

"Pastor, do you have a moment to sit down with me?" She was sitting in the pew. She patted the space next to her. Not in front or behind. Alongside.

She shared a life story about an experience she had that made her lovingly differ with me, a story that makes you see why John Wesley thought it wise for us to consider scripture, reason, tradition, and experience in our discernment. She shared her experience, her reasoning, and a little how she saw this through scripture.

Her perspective opened mine. Moreover, I noticed that when she wanted to engage in serious conversation with me, or others, she preferred to sit down beside someone. Not opposite. Not face to face. Not adversarial. Alongside.

I like to think of the triune God as the one who is for us, the one alongside us, and the one within us. Like those who walked the road to Emmaus, I didn’t know until later how she was accompanying me in my ministry. Lulu taught me the near sacrament of being alongside.

During the many years I served in Waukesha, I sat with people who came for prayer or to seek help, some who did not have the medicine they needed, or some disorientation and wanted to get their lives on track. We had a pew outside the office so I could sit alongside and listen and pray. Those conversations were soft. Unhurried. Unburdened by eye-contact. I sensed there was something healing about being alongside someone when they are hurting. The shift from conversation to prayer seemed organic.

I think if United Methodists felt compelled to add another sacrament, maybe “alongside conversations” would get my vote.

Our sacraments are baptism and the Eucharist. They are gifts for pilgrims, a bath and a meal. Surely walking alongside is another ancient embodiment of Jesus.

How do our churches walk alongside people? Some churches are helping to accompany those who struggle with food insecurity, or they offer space for Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous.

More deeply, consider the counsel that Rev. Dr. Kenda Creasy Dean offered during the Bible study during the Wisconsin Conference session, for our churches to practice acompañamiento, the practice of noticing, sharing life and time with, knowing what breaks peoples’ hearts. Consider this work with the Hispanic and immigrant community, and whatever people groups God has called you to neighbor in this moment.

I am a better man and Christian because of those who have accompanied me. I trust God has called people into your path who also need the alongside way. Your church may have connections and potential for those who can benefit from a relationship that walks alongside. Ask your congregational development director to help you access local demographic reports and pray about who you could walk alongside for the sake of making Christ known.

We are practicing hope together, beloveds, gratefully alongside.

Thank you. Peace.