Edge United Methodist Church
June 18th, 2026 Scripture: Psalm 98:4 "Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises." Devotion: God often uses the gifts He gives us to bring comfort, joy, and hope to others. Sometimes those gifts become part of our identity. Sometimes they become part of our legacy. Whether through music, kindness, encouragement, or simply being present, the things we offer from the heart have a way of living on long after the moment has passed. Tip: Think about a gift or talent God has given you. How might you use it this week to encourage someone else? Reminder: The gifts we share with others often become the memories they treasure most. As I continue reflecting on the closing of First Christian Church in Richmond, Indiana, I find myself returning to the people who made that church so meaningful. I have been reminding myself, "God is not finished with this story yet." While I grieve the changes taking place, I also want to honor the people whose love and faith shaped my life. Today, I want to share about my dad and the way he cared for others through music. When I think about my dad, I think about music. My dad graduated from the University of Evansville with a degree in music. Before he answered God's call into ministry in the Disciples of Christ Church, he was a music teacher. Even after becoming a pastor, music remained woven into who he was. He had a gift for sharing his love of music with people, and he carried that gift with him throughout his years of ministry in both Bedford and Richmond, Indiana. Some of my most precious memories involve simply sitting and listening. When I was a child, I often spent time at the church while my parents worked. I wandered through hallways, explored classrooms, and played in the empty spaces that became part of my childhood. Then I would hear it. Music drifting through the sanctuary. Even though the churches often had organists, my dad would sometimes slip away to play the organ or sit down at the piano. Looking back, I think music was a place where he could breathe. It was a way for him to connect with God and with himself. I would quietly slip into the sanctuary, sit in the pews, and listen. I remember doing this not only as a young child, but also as a teenager. After school, I would show up at the church and hear him practicing. Sometimes I would sit through choir rehearsals just to listen to him play the organ. I never grew tired of it. I always felt proud. There was something special about knowing that this was my dad creating those sounds that filled the sanctuary. He brought so much love of music to First Christian Church in Richmond. The hymns, choir rehearsals, worship services, and spontaneous moments at the keyboard became part of the rhythm of church life. Music was not simply something he did. It was one of the ways he cared for people. Another memory stands out clearly in my mind. My dad and I were driving home after visiting my grandfather. Along the way, we stopped at Dairy Queen for ice cream. As we drove, I noticed him writing words on a napkin. Looking back, he probably should not have been driving and writing at the same time. I later discovered that those words became the hymn, "We Call Ourselves Disciples." Today, that hymn can be found in the Disciples of Christ hymnal and is sung in worship services by people who may never know the story of how it began. What started as words scribbled on a napkin during an ordinary car ride became part of the worship life of a denomination. I think that says something beautiful about how God works. The gifts we carry often begin in ordinary moments. Today, my dad does not play the piano as much as he once did. His memory and physical abilities are slowly being taken from him. It is difficult to watch someone you love experience those losses. But it warms my heart to know that he still occasionally walks into the Memory Care neighborhood and sits down at the piano. He plays not only for himself, but for the residents, staff members, and visiting family members who pause to listen. The music still has a way of bringing people together. It still offers comfort. It still creates joy. Even now, his gift continues to care for others. As I reflect on my dad's life, I realize that music was never just about notes on a page. It was another way of loving people. It was encouragement. It was worship. It was presence. It was a gift freely shared. Caregivers do this all the time. We take the gifts God has given us and offer them to others. Sometimes it is through music. Sometimes it is through listening. Sometimes it is through a meal, a prayer, a walk, or a simple act of kindness. We may never know how far those gifts travel or whose lives they touch. As I think about First Christian Church in Richmond, I realize that while buildings may close and seasons may change, the music shared within those walls continues to echo in the hearts of the people who heard it. I carry those memories with me. They have shaped how I understand caregiving, faith, and the importance of sharing the gifts God has given us. Perhaps that is why I can say, even in the midst of sadness, that God is not finished with this story yet. The sanctuary may change. The address may be different. But the love, faith, and music that shaped so many lives continue to live on. And perhaps one of the greatest blessings is knowing that even when memory fades and abilities change, love still finds its voice. Sometimes, it sounds like an organ filling a sanctuary. Sometimes, it sounds like a piano playing softly down the hall.
June 19th, 2026 Scripture: Proverbs 31:26 "She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue." Devotion: The people who shape us often do so in ordinary ways. Through their presence, sacrifices, and daily examples, they teach us what love looks like. We may not realize it at the time, but we carry pieces of them with us into the way we care for others. God often uses those closest to us to show us how compassion, creativity, and service can become a way of life. Tip: Take time to thank someone who helped shape the way you care for others. Reminder: The love we receive often becomes the love we give away. I am taking time in this devotion to talk about the closing of my childhood church, First Christian Church in Richmond, Indiana. Seeing the church building listed for sale has stirred many emotions in me. My stomach turns when I think about it. I know many people are grieving the loss of a place that meant so much to them. At the same time, I continue to hold on to a phrase that has become my mantra through this season: "God is not finished with this story yet." I believe there is still another chapter to unfold. I do not know what it will look like, but I trust that God has a plan. As I process this transition, I find myself reflecting on the people who made that church what it truly was. Today, I want to share about my mom and the way she served as a caregiver in that church and in my own life. When I think about where I learned to care for people, I think about my mom. My mom served as a minister in the Disciples of Christ Church alongside my dad. Together, they devoted their lives to caring for others through ministry. As I look back, I realize that many of my earliest memories of care have my mom at the center of them. Many of those memories took place at First Christian Church in Richmond, Indiana, the church where I grew up. The hallways, classrooms, fellowship halls, and sanctuary became the backdrop of my childhood. It was there that I watched people care for one another, celebrate together, grieve together, and faithfully show up for their community. Even now, as I process the changes happening there, I recognize how much that church and its people helped shape who I am. One of the things we have in common is that we both graduated with degrees in social work. The older I get, the more I realize how much of the way I approach care comes from her. She taught me that caring is not simply something you do. It is a way of seeing people. It is noticing needs, listening carefully, and helping people feel valued and understood. Earlier in my life, I lived in Bedford, Indiana. My mom became my hero. I was going through life with a hearing loss, and my hearing loss meant that I needed a little more attention and support. Communication did not always come easily. There were appointments, speech therapy sessions, frustrations, and moments when life required extra patience. During those years, my mom made a decision that I did not fully appreciate until I became an adult. She stepped away from working full time for a season so she could spend more time with me. What a gift that was. She invested in me when I needed it most. She encouraged me, advocated for me, and helped me navigate a world that often felt difficult to hear and understand. Long before I earned a degree in social work or worked in healthcare, my mom was teaching me what caregiving looked like. She taught me how to love people. She taught me how to notice the person who might need a little extra encouragement. She taught me that sometimes the most important thing you can give someone is your time. My mom also had a creative spirit in all the churches she served. While my dad often carried the musical life of the church, my mom brought ideas to life. She organized Vacation Bible School and dreamed up special events that brought people together. I can remember her spending countless hours making phone calls, recruiting volunteers, and helping people discover ways they could contribute. Some of my favorite memories at First Christian Church in Richmond involve watching her prepare for Hanging of the Greens services and other special church celebrations. There were decorations to organize, scripts to coordinate, people to schedule, and countless details to manage. What I saw as a child and teenager was someone working very hard. What I understand now is that she was creating meaningful experiences for others. She was helping people connect. She was building community. She was creating memories that people would carry with them long after the decorations had been packed away. I think that is one of the beautiful things about caregivers. Much of what they do happens behind the scenes. There are phone calls no one notices, plans no one sees, and sacrifices no one applauds. Yet those quiet acts of love shape lives in ways we may never fully understand. As I reflect on my own journey, I can see pieces of my mom in the work I do today. I see it in my desire to bring people together through Mighty Caregivers. I see it in my love for creating meaningful experiences. I see it in my efforts to help people feel seen and supported. I see it in my belief that everyone matters and that small acts of care can have a lasting impact. I think that is part of a parent's legacy. Not just the things they teach us with words, but the things they model through the way they live. My mom taught me that caring is both practical and creative. It is showing up when someone needs you. It is making the phone call. It is organizing the event. It is sitting beside a child who needs extra attention. It is helping people feel like they belong. As I think about First Christian Church in Richmond, I realize that while buildings may change and seasons may come to an end, the love that was shared there continues to live on in the people who experienced it. I carry those lessons with me every day. They have shaped how I care, how I serve, and how I hope to encourage others through Mighty Caregivers. Perhaps the greatest lesson my mom taught me is this: love is not simply something we feel. Love is something we do. And perhaps that is why I can say, even through tears and uncertainty, that God is not finished with this story yet.
June 20h, 2026 Scripture: Proverbs 31:26 "She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue." Devotion: The people who shape us often do so in ordinary ways. Through their presence, sacrifices, and daily examples, they teach us what love looks like. We may not realize it at the time, but we carry pieces of them with us into the way we care for others. God often uses those closest to us to show us how compassion, creativity, and service can become a way of life. Tip: Take time to thank someone who helped shape the way you care for others. Reminder: The love we receive often becomes the love we give away. I am taking time in this devotion to talk about the closing of my childhood church, First Christian Church in Richmond, Indiana. Seeing the church building listed for sale has stirred many emotions in me. My stomach turns when I think about it. I know many people are grieving the loss of a place that meant so much to them. At the same time, I continue to hold on to a phrase that has become my mantra through this season: "God is not finished with this story yet." I believe there is still another chapter to unfold. I do not know what it will look like, but I trust that God has a plan. As I process this transition, I find myself reflecting on the people who made that church what it truly was. Today, I want to share about my mom and the way she served as a caregiver in that church and in my own life. When I think about where I learned to care for people, I think about my mom. My mom served as a minister in the Disciples of Christ Church alongside my dad. Together, they devoted their lives to caring for others through ministry. As I look back, I realize that many of my earliest memories of care have my mom at the center of them. Many of those memories took place at First Christian Church in Richmond, Indiana, the church where I grew up. The hallways, classrooms, fellowship halls, and sanctuary became the backdrop of my childhood. It was there that I watched people care for one another, celebrate together, grieve together, and faithfully show up for their community. Even now, as I process the changes happening there, I recognize how much that church and its people helped shape who I am. One of the things we have in common is that we both graduated with degrees in social work. The older I get, the more I realize how much of the way I approach care comes from her. She taught me that caring is not simply something you do. It is a way of seeing people. It is noticing needs, listening carefully, and helping people feel valued and understood. Earlier in my life, I lived in Bedford, Indiana. My mom became my hero. I was going through life with a hearing loss, and my hearing loss meant that I needed a little more attention and support. Communication did not always come easily. There were appointments, speech therapy sessions, frustrations, and moments when life required extra patience. During those years, my mom made a decision that I did not fully appreciate until I became an adult. She stepped away from working full time for a season so she could spend more time with me. What a gift that was. She invested in me when I needed it most. She encouraged me, advocated for me, and helped me navigate a world that often felt difficult to hear and understand. Long before I earned a degree in social work or worked in healthcare, my mom was teaching me what caregiving looked like. She taught me how to love people. She taught me how to notice the person who might need a little extra encouragement. She taught me that sometimes the most important thing you can give someone is your time. My mom also had a creative spirit in all the churches she served. While my dad often carried the musical life of the church, my mom brought ideas to life. She organized Vacation Bible School and dreamed up special events that brought people together. I can remember her spending countless hours making phone calls, recruiting volunteers, and helping people discover ways they could contribute. Some of my favorite memories at First Christian Church in Richmond involve watching her prepare for Hanging of the Greens services and other special church celebrations. There were decorations to organize, scripts to coordinate, people to schedule, and countless details to manage. What I saw as a child and teenager was someone working very hard. What I understand now is that she was creating meaningful experiences for others. She was helping people connect. She was building community. She was creating memories that people would carry with them long after the decorations had been packed away. I think that is one of the beautiful things about caregivers. Much of what they do happens behind the scenes. There are phone calls no one notices, plans no one sees, and sacrifices no one applauds. Yet those quiet acts of love shape lives in ways we may never fully understand. As I reflect on my own journey, I can see pieces of my mom in the work I do today. I see it in my desire to bring people together through Mighty Caregivers. I see it in my love for creating meaningful experiences. I see it in my efforts to help people feel seen and supported. I see it in my belief that everyone matters and that small acts of care can have a lasting impact. I think that is part of a parent's legacy. Not just the things they teach us with words, but the things they model through the way they live. My mom taught me that caring is both practical and creative. It is showing up when someone needs you. It is making the phone call. It is organizing the event. It is sitting beside a child who needs extra attention. It is helping people feel like they belong. As I think about First Christian Church in Richmond, I realize that while buildings may change and seasons may come to an end, the love that was shared there continues to live on in the people who experienced it. I carry those lessons with me every day. They have shaped how I care, how I serve, and how I hope to encourage others through Mighty Caregivers. Perhaps the greatest lesson my mom taught me is this: love is not simply something we feel. Love is something we do. And perhaps that is why I can say, even through tears and uncertainty, that God is not finished with this story yet.
June 21st Hello Mighty Caregivers, Scripture: Romans 12:10 "Love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor." Devotion: Transitions can be difficult. New places, new faces, and unfamiliar routines can leave us feeling uncertain and alone. Yet God often provides people who help us find our footing again. A welcoming smile, an invitation to join in, or simply being included can make all the difference. Sometimes the greatest acts of care are helping someone feel like they belong. Tip: Think about someone new in your life, workplace, church, or community. What simple act of kindness could help them feel welcome? Reminder: You never know how much your kindness may mean to someone who is finding their way. As I continue this series of reflections about the closure and sale of First Christian Church in Richmond, Indiana, I keep returning to the phrase that has carried me through this season: God is not finished with this story yet. While I grieve the changes taking place, I also find myself grateful for the memories that shaped me. Today, I think about what it meant to belong. I moved to Richmond from Bedford, Indiana, when I was in the eighth grade. Like many teenagers, I found transitions difficult. I was leaving behind familiar places, friends, and routines. I was stepping into a new school, a new community, and a new church congregation. I also happened to be the preacher's kid, which came with its own pressures and expectations. I remember feeling nervous. I wondered if I would fit in. I wondered if people would accept me. I wondered where I belonged. What I discovered was something beautiful. There was a group of kids my age who welcomed me in. They made room for me before I had fully figured out how to make room for myself. We spent time together not only at church but also at school. We attended Sunday school classes together. We participated in youth group activities. We laughed through countless lock-ins, staying up far too late and creating memories that seemed ordinary at the time but have become treasures now. We simply enjoyed being together. Looking back, I realize those friendships were acts of caregiving. No one sat me down and announced that they were helping a nervous teenager adjust to a new life. They probably had no idea how much their kindness mattered. They invited me in. They treated me like I belonged. They gave me a place to be myself during a season when everything else felt unfamiliar. I treasure those memories. As I think about First Christian Church in Richmond, I realize that what made it special was never just the building. It was the people who helped one another through life's transitions. It was the friendships formed in Sunday school classrooms and church hallways. It was the laughter during youth events and the feeling that someone was glad you showed up. I think many of us underestimate the power of helping someone belong. There are people walking into our churches, workplaces, schools, and communities every day carrying uncertainty. They wonder if they will fit in. They wonder if anyone notices them. They wonder if there is a place for them. Sometimes all it takes is an invitation, a conversation, a shared laugh, or a seat saved at the table. As I continue to process the closing of my childhood church, I find comfort in knowing that those acts of care cannot be sold or boxed away. They live on in the people whose lives were changed because someone took the time to say, "Come sit with us." I arrived in Richmond as a nervous eighth grader trying to find my place. What I found was a community that helped me belong. Even now, as this chapter comes to an end, I still believe God is not finished with this story yet. Keep on Caring, Jeremy Remember: Caregivers need care too. Discover support, resources, and connections at https://edgeumc.com/mightycaregivers
June 22nd, 2026 Scripture: Psalm 119:105 "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path." Devotion: God's Word has always guided His people. Throughout history, the way people have encountered Scripture has changed. It has been spoken around campfires, written on scrolls, printed in books, and now shared through screens and technology. The method may change, but the message remains the same. God's truth continues to lead us wherever we are and whatever tools we use. Tip: Take time to notice the ways God is speaking to you and drawing you closer, even through unexpected means. Reminder: God's presence is not limited by the format in which we encounter His Word. Recently, I realized something. I no longer have the Bible I received as a child after taking communion. At some point, I had stopped thinking about it, but then it hit me. The Bible had been lost in a house fire our family experienced years ago. In the middle of the turmoil, the rebuilding, and everything that followed, replacing that Bible never happened. What surprised me most was how clearly I still remember it. It was brown and soft, not a hard covered Bible. It bent easily in my hands. Even now, I can remember what it felt like to hold it. I can picture opening the front cover and seeing the note written inside by my parents, who were the ministers of our church. The note was simple, but it has stayed with me all these years. It read, "We love you and so does God." What a gift. As a child, I do not know that I fully understood the importance of those words. But now, looking back, I realize that the note was more than an inscription. It was a blessing. It was a reminder of who I was and whose I was. Long before I understood grace, purpose, or calling, my parents wanted me to know that I was loved by them and loved by God. Over the years, I thought about getting another Bible. I would occasionally walk through a bookstore and look at the shelves lined with beautiful Bibles. Some had leather covers. Others had study notes and special features. Yet each time, I found myself walking away without buying one. It wasn't that I didn't value Scripture. I just never felt compelled to choose one. As life moved on, I found myself busy. I was working as an Activities Director, caring for others, meeting responsibilities, and trying to navigate my own journey. If I am honest, there were seasons when I felt a little lost. I did not always feel deeply connected to the Bible, to the Scriptures, or even to God in the way I once had. But recently, I have come to realize something unexpected. God has been meeting me through the tools of this time. I live in a world of technology. I write on a keyboard. I connect with people through emails, Zoom calls, websites, and social media. I use digital tools to encourage caregivers and share stories of hope. I have discovered that this is one of the ways God has wired me. It is part of my superpower. Every day, I find myself searching Scripture, reflecting on verses, and creating devotions for the Mighty Caregivers Circle. I use technology to help connect people to God's love and encouragement. I do it with good intentions and a sincere desire to help people care for themselves so they can care for others. For a while, I wondered if I should feel guilty that I did not own a personal Bible that I treasured and carried with me. But the answer that keeps settling in my heart is no. I am okay with this. We are living in interesting times. We still have printed Bibles, and they remain precious. But we also have technology that allows us to access God's Word in ways previous generations could never have imagined. The message has not changed. The methods have. Do I want to go out and buy a Bible just to say I have one? No. If someone were to place a Bible in my hands as a gift, given with the love of God and the desire to bless me, I would gladly receive it. It would mean something special because it would carry the heart of the person who gave it. Perhaps it would even remind me of that little brown Bible and the note tucked inside that simply said, "We love you and so does God." But right now, I find myself content. I have discovered that God has never stopped speaking to me. He has simply met me where I am. Through screens and keyboards. Through conversations and stories. Through Scriptures that appear exactly when I need them. Through the work of encouraging caregivers. The Bible I lost in the fire will always hold a place in my story. But perhaps God has been reminding me that His Word was never lost. It has been with me all along.
June 23rd, 2026 Scripture: Galatians 6:2 "Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." Devotion: Sometimes God places people on our hearts for a reason. We may not know them personally, but we can still care for them through prayer. When we lift others up to God, we participate in His work of love, compassion, and grace. A simple prayer can remind us that we are all connected through God's care. Tip: When you hear about someone who is struggling, take a moment to pray for them, even if you have never met them. Reminder: Compassion does not require an introduction. Last week, I experienced something that made me think about what I call unasked prayers. During a Zoom gathering, a participant shared about a coworker who was going through a difficult time. As she spoke, it was clear that this person was hurting. As a group, we paused for a moment and offered a prayer for someone most of us had never met. What stood out to me was that I did not know this person. I did not know their name. I did not know their story beyond what was briefly shared. I did not know where they lived, what they looked like, or whether I would ever meet them. Yet in that moment, I chose to pray for them. I thought that would be the end of it. But throughout the week, I found myself thinking about that coworker. I wondered how they were doing. I wondered if things had improved. I wondered if they had found comfort and support. It felt a little strange at first. Here I was thinking about someone I did not know. Someone who had never asked me directly for prayer. Someone who may never know that I was praying for them. Yet the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this is part of what caregiving is all about. Caregiving is not always limited to the people we know. Sometimes God expands our hearts beyond our immediate circle. Sometimes He places a stranger on our minds and reminds us that compassion can reach farther than we realize. I think many of us have experienced this. We hear about a family facing a crisis. We learn about someone who is sick. We read a story about a person struggling. Something inside us responds. We care. Not because we know them. Not because they asked us to. But because they are another human being who is hurting. That is what I mean by an unasked prayer. It is a prayer offered for someone who may never know it was prayed. It is an act of compassion given freely without expecting anything in return. As people who care for others, we often focus on helping the people closest to us. That is important. But I also think God calls us to care more broadly. He invites us to notice people who are hurting, even when they are strangers. The beautiful thing about prayer is that we do not need to have all the details. We do not need to know exactly what someone needs. We simply bring them before God and trust Him to do what only He can do. Last week reminded me of something important. Compassion does not require an introduction. Sometimes all it takes is a willing heart and a simple prayer.