Virginia Memorial Park, 11490 Forest Road, Forest, VA 24551

Church #186 continues to be Jesus meeting me exactly where He has placed me, and I am learning that sometimes the most beautiful sermons are not delivered from pulpits, but through the lives of people God allows us to encounter along the way.

With my new job and schedule, most weekends now find me at the cemetery, including Sundays. I still miss visiting the beautiful churches throughout our city, and I know there will be opportunities to return to more of them as life allows, but I have come to understand that this journey was never really just about collecting visits to buildings. It’s about finding Jesus, learning to recognize His presence, and allowing Him to change the way I love people. After 186 churches, He is still doing exactly that, although I must admit that lately some of His most meaningful lessons have come while I am tired, overwhelmed, and wondering how in the world He is going to make a way through everything happening in my life.

The sermon that settled so big on my heart today was a familiar phrase that I imagine most of us have heard at some point…

This too shall pass.

We say those words when somebody is going through a difficult season. We write them in cards, offer them as encouragement, and sometimes whisper them to our own hearts when life becomes so crazy and we can’t imagine making it through another day. I have said them to other people, and I have certainly needed to hear them myself. But lately, as my family has been roaming through one difficult circumstance after another, I have found myself wondering whether I truly believe those words when I am the one standing in the middle of the storm.

Because some seasons do not feel temporary when you are living through them. Some nights feel endless. Some worries greet you before your feet even touch the floor in the morning. Some circumstances stretch on so long that you begin to forget what it felt like to wake up without something on your mind.

And sometimes you can believe with everything inside you that God is good, that He is faithful, and that He has a beautiful grand plan, while still looking toward heaven and asking why!!! That is where I have been as of late. I trust Him, but I am tired. I believe Him, but I am weary. I know He has carried me and He is the only reason I even survived, but I would be lying if I told you there have not been moments recently when I have wondered how much longer this particular season is going to last.

Interestingly, the exact phrase “this too shall pass” is not found in the Bible, although many people assume it is. Its history is often traced to an old Persian tale that has been retold in several forms over the centuries. One version tells of a king who asked a wise man to give him words that would be true in every circumstance, whether he was experiencing his greatest victory or his deepest sorrow. The wise man gave him a simple message…

This too shall pass.

When the king was suffering, those words reminded him that his sorrow would not last forever. But when he was celebrating, those same words reminded him that earthly success, wealth, power, and happiness were temporary too. I have always thought that was a brilliant lesson because it speaks to both sides of life. When we are hurting, we need to remember that our circumstances can change. When we are rejoicing, we need to remember to cherish the blessings in front of us because earthly moments do not last forever.

Because seasons change. Circumstances change. People change. Our health changes. Our schedules change. Our responsibilities change. The things we thought would last forever sometimes end, and the things we thought we would never survive eventually become chapters we look back upon.

But God does not change.

Malachi 3:6 tells us, “I the Lord do not change.”

Hebrews 13:8 reminds us that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.”

And THAT is the difference between a comforting old saying and the hope we have as Christians. The saying reminds us that life is temporary. Jesus reminds us that His faithfulness is eternal.

Second Corinthians 4:17-18 tells us about our present troubles vs. the eternal glory that awaits us, reminding us to fix our eyes not merely on what is seen, but on what is unseen. Paul was a man who had experienced beatings, imprisonment, persecution, shipwrecks, he knew what pain felt like, and he knew what it meant to keep trusting God when circumstances offered very little encouragement.

But Paul understood something I am still learning. What is happening to me right now is not the whole story of what God is doing with my life. And oh, how I constantly need that reminder. Because this season has been hard!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This season has stretched my family emotionally, physically, spiritually, and financially. There have been long days, longer nights, unanswered questions, and prayers that I have repeated so many times that my brain is on auto-pilot before I even get all the words out.

Today, God reminded me of His love through one of the sweetest acts of kindness. A gentleman who lost his precious wife earlier this year, and who now visits the cemetery daily, prepared a homemade meal for my family and brought it in for us to enjoy together. We sat together, enjoyed the meal, and listened as he shared stories from his life. He talked about his younger years, his time selling insurance, and his belief that we may be in for a moderate winter this year. He remembered and told us about the snowstorms of his childhood, when snow would reach waist-deep, and told us about building snowmen and having snowball fights. I mentioned how much my daughter loves the snow, and he smiled as he continued remembering those days.

One of my favorite stories was about how his mother would clean out fertilizer bags so the children could use them to help keep their feet warm in the snow. Now people can order almost anything they need with a few taps on the phone, and here was a man remembering a mother who found a way to keep her children warm with what she had available. Love has always been resourceful, hasn’t it? Love does not always have the money to buy the perfect thing. Sometimes love washes out a fertilizer bag. Sometimes love cooks a meal. Sometimes love brings flowers. Sometimes love sits across a table and listens to the same story for the third time because the person telling it deserves to be heard.

He also shared stories about traveling to Shoney’s in Richmond, where a waitress has worked for decades and where he enjoys sharing the Gospel. I loved hearing about that again because it reminded me that ministry is not confined to a church building or even to the work we do professionally. It happens in restaurants, conversations, friendships, and all the places where people cross our paths.

He talked about Nebuchadnezzar and Daniel, and the lessons we have come to know and love. In Daniel 3, King Nebuchadnezzar ordered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego to be thrown into a blazing furnace because they refused to worship his golden image. When threatened with death, they declared their faith that God was able to deliver them, but they also said that even if He did not, they would not bow to the king’s demands. I have always loved their courage, but the older I get, the more I appreciate the depth of their trust. They believed God could deliver them. But their obedience was not dependent upon knowing how He would do it.

And when Nebuchadnezzar looked into the furnace, he did not see three men burning. He saw four men walking. The fire was still there. The furnace was still hot. But God had not abandoned them.

I think sometimes we spend so much time praying for God to remove the furnace that we forget to look for His presence while we are standing inside it. And, believe me, I am preaching to myself right now. Because I would love for some of what my family is facing to disappear tomorrow morning. I would love to wake up and discover that every worry has been resolved, every prayer has been answered, and every circumstance has shifted. I am praying for exactly that kind of relief. But while I wait, I am trying to remember that Jesus has not stepped away from me simply because the fire has not gone out yet. The furnace has an ending, but the faithfulness of God does not.

The elderly man sitting across from my family today has a life full of chapters. Some joyful. Some difficult. Some heartbreaking. And yet here he was, sitting with us, telling stories, laughing, remembering, and showing love. I watched the gleam in his eyes as he traveled back through memories of his childhood, and I could almost imagine that little boy running through the snow, laughing with his friends, his feet protected by those carefully cleaned fertilizer bags his mother had prepared. For a moment, time seemed to fold in on itself. The boy who loved the snow and the man who misses his wife were sitting in the same chair.

We spend our lives becoming memories in the hearts of other people. One day, someone else will be the keeper of our stories. Someone else will remember the way we laughed. Someone else will tell the stories about our childhood. Someone else will remember what we loved to eat, where we liked to travel, the music we listened to, the things that made us smile, and the little habits that made us unmistakably ourselves. Someone else will tell our grandchildren what we were like when we were young. Someone else will remember how we treated them when they were hurting. And one day, the stories we are living right now will become the memories someone else is grateful to have.

They remember the snowball fights. The homemade meals. The familiar restaurant. The favorite football team. The sound of laughter. And I wonder how much of our lives we spend worrying about things that will never become the memories people cherish.

After our meal and conversation, we went together to place beautiful flowers on the grave of his beloved wife, Marie. We stood there as he was remembering Marie, and I found myself thinking about how love continues to express itself even after death.

The flowers were not going to bring her back. They could not remove the grief. They could not replace the years they had shared. But they were an expression of love. And I consider it an extraordinary privilege to be even a very small part of moments like that.

Sometimes the most Christlike thing we can do is just to stand with someone. Listening to the story. Looking at the photographs. Placing the flowers. And giving grief the dignity of being witnessed by someone who cares.

Later in the day, I also placed flowers on the grave of someone whose funeral had recently taken place. Whenever possible, I like to bring a couple of arrangements inside for a few days so that they can remain fresh a little longer before being returned to the grave. It is a very, very small thing. It takes extra time. It is not something anybody has to do. But I think about the family returning to visit, and I want them to find something beautiful waiting there. I want the flowers to last a little longer. I want the grave to reflect the love that was shared during the service. And if there is something small I can do to make an incredibly difficult experience just a little more tender, I want to do it. I have always believed that the extra mile is never crowded.

And Jesus actually spoke about going the extra mile in Matthew. He was teaching His followers a radically different response to being compelled to carry a burden. He was challenging the instinct to do only what was required and showing them a way of living that reflected a different kingdom. I think about that often in my work. I do not want to do only what is required. I want to notice what is needed. Anybody can follow a checklist. But love notices the things that never made it onto the checklist. Love notices the widow who visits every day. Love notices the family returning to a fresh grave. Love notices when someone needs to talk a little longer. Love notices when the flowers are beginning to fade. Love notices when a homemade meal means more than the food itself. And love understands that sometimes the smallest gesture can become the biggest comfort in somebody else’s day.

Colossians 3:23 tells us to work with all our hearts, as working for the Lord. I have written about that many times before, as you know, but I was reminded that excellence is not simply knowing how to do something correctly. Excellence is caring enough to do a little more.

Jesus is worthy of the very best love I can offer through the work He has placed in my hands. And that brings me back to the sermon.

This too shall pass.

The difficult season my family is facing will not always look exactly the way it looks today. The unanswered questions will not always be the same questions. The circumstances that seem so overwhelming right now will eventually become part of the story I tell about what God brought us through. I believe that.

But I also have to remember that the beautiful moments will pass too. The meals around the table. The conversations with people who have become dear to us. The time with my daughter. The opportunities to serve. Those moments are temporary too, and that makes them precious.

Ecclesiastes 3 tells us there is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven, including a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. Life is not one uninterrupted season of happiness. Neither is it supposed to be one endless season of sorrow. There are winters. There are springs. There are days when the snow is waist-deep, and the world feels completely different from the one we knew yesterday. There are seasons when everything appears bare and lifeless. And there are seasons when new things begin growing in places we thought would never bloom again.

I have been praying for spring. I do not know exactly when that season will arrive. My circumstances may change tomorrow. They may take longer than I want. But Jesus will still be Jesus. His love will still be enough.

Church #186 happened at Virginia Memorial Park, around a homemade meal, through stories of childhood snowstorms, insurance sales, a familiar Shoney’s, the Gospel, a mother’s resourcefulness, and the memories of a beautiful woman named Marie. I am soooooo thankful for the families who continue to trust me with moments that matter so deeply. I am thankful, too, for every one of you who has continued following this church journey through all of its different seasons.

You have watched me visit beautiful sanctuaries, worship from home, find Jesus in waiting rooms, sit around tables, serve families, walk through grief, celebrate milestones, and learn that sometimes the most meaningful church service of the week happens in a place nobody would ever think to put on a church directory.

And I hope you have seen what I continue to discover. We are the church.

So while this season is passing, I want to make sure love is what I leave behind. I want to leave people with stories worth telling. I want to leave families feeling so very loved. I want to leave my daughter with memories of a mother who loved her deeply and trusted Jesus even when life was hard. I want to leave the people I meet with a little more hope than they had before our paths crossed. And I want the people who remember me someday to remember not simply what I did, but how the love of Jesus reached them through me.

I do not know where the Holy Spirit will lead next week. But I know I will be wherever God places me, and I know He will meet me there.

Thank you for continuing to follow this journey through the changing seasons, the unexpected sanctuaries, the laughter, the tears, the prayers, and all the moments in between.

This too shall pass.

But the love of Jesus?

That is the one thing I never have to worry about losing when the season changes.

And I cannot wait to see where the Holy Spirit leads next week.

Love you all so much,

Annie Stewart Lambert