Kindred in Christ,

 

When I was a kid, one of my favorite things to do was build a fort out of chairs and a blanket. I’d turn off the lights, crawl inside with a flashlight, and read my comic books. Looking back, I know those forts didn’t provide much security—anyone could pull the blanket away—but inside, they felt like a little oasis. A place where the disappointments of school or the uncertainties of family life seemed lighter.

 

Maybe you had a hideout too—a treehouse, under the bed, or your own makeshift fort. None of these spaces were truly secure, yet they gave us something deeply human: a sense of refuge.

 

As an adult, I’ve seen how that same longing for refuge shows up in starker ways. Many of our unhoused neighbors live in tents, makeshift shelters, or camps tucked under bridges or behind buildings. A few tarps stretched over poles may not keep out all the wind or rain, but they create enough shelter to survive another night. Like our childhood forts, these fragile spaces reveal a deep human desire for safety, protection, and dignity.

 

Our Scriptures this week speak into that longing. Psalm 91 declares, “God is our refuge and fortress.” Yet in Luke’s Gospel we meet Lazarus, a poor man who longed for safety at the gate of a wealthy neighbor and found none. Together, these readings show us that God is not only our refuge, but also found in those who seek refuge—the neighbor at the gate, the unhoused, the refugee.

 

This Sunday we conclude our Costly Grace series, remembering Bonhoeffer’s witness that grace must cost us something for the sake of others. We’ll reflect on what it means to take shelter in God, and what it means to embody that refuge for those who cry out for safety today.

 

So we invite you to come, bring your questions, your longings, and your hopes. Come and be renewed in the One who is our refuge—and who sends us out to be a refuge for others. Together we will pray, sing, and imagine what God’s costly grace looks like in our lives and in our city.

 

Alongside you,

Pastor Paul Ortiz