Send us a text

The sanctuary felt different on the longest night: softer voices, slower breath, and a circle of candles passing from hand to hand. We opened a gentle space where grief and fear could sit beside hope without apology, naming what hurts and honoring the love beneath it. With readings from Isaiah and Psalm 30, we walked the honest path from lament to promise, not rushing the night but trusting the morning.

We leaned on practices that steady the heart. A guided silence helped us notice what our bodies carry. We wrote our worries on small cards and placed them on a table, then later picked up a neighbor’s card to carry their burden through the week. Mary Oliver’s lines reminded us that the weight we bear changes as we learn how to hold it; that a box of darkness can become a gift; that loving what is mortal means both holding tight and letting go. And in a tender clip, Andrew Garfield told Elmo that missing someone is proof of love—grief as the echo of joy that once filled the room.

Across the service, a quiet theme kept surfacing: God’s steadfast love does not depart, even when the hills shift and the temple smokes. We sang simple prayers, shared the peace, and watched the room brighten candle by candle. The words “God is no-where” turned into “God is now-here” as we stood together. If you’re carrying something heavy through Advent, we made room for you. Press play to breathe, to be held by scripture and poetry, and to borrow a little light for the road. If this helped you keep vigil, subscribe, share it with a friend who needs gentleness, and leave a review so others can find this space.

Follow us on Instagram @guilfordparkpresbyterianchurch
Follow us on Facebook @guilfordparkpc
Follow us on TikTok @guilfordparkpreschurch
Website: www.guilfordpark.org