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Next week, Pastor Alison will be kicking off a book study that will meet virtually throughout July and August. The group will be reading Do You Still Talk to Grandma?: When the Problematic People in Our Lives Are the Ones We Love by Brit Barron. Whether or not you can join the book study, we'd highly recommend checking out this book! About the Book Do You Still Talk to Grandma? is an incredibly readable book full of personal stories and thought-provoking ideas. It tackles questions like: What can it look like to strive for justice without causing new harm or giving up on the people we love? How do we create gracious and risky spaces for people to learn and evolve? These types of questions feel incredibly important for navigating the world we find ourselves in today. About the Author Brit Barron is a speaker, teacher, and storyteller. She is a pastor at New Abbey church in Los Angeles, CA and is a member of the Post-Evangelical Collective's Working Board. Brit and her wife Sami live in LA and you can often find Brit ready to have conversations on the topics of spirituality, race, personal development and storytelling. Interviews with Brit Barron
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During her sermon this past Sunday, Pastor Alison shared a letter called “Acting faithfully in troubling times,” which was written by Presiding Bishop Sean W. Rowe to members of the Episcopal church. Rowe's letter does a great job of painting a vision for how our faith can influence how we navigate the troubling world we find ourselves in today. While we, at the River, are not members of the Episcopal Church, we are part of the global communion of hope in the Risen Jesus. We too can draw upon the strengths of our faith, as we seek to resist evil, to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being. And we too can find courage and resilience in our identity as members of the Body of Christ. Text of the letter is included below! Dear people of God in The Episcopal Church:
I am writing to you from Geneva, where I am meeting with global partners at the World Council of Churches and the United Nations Refugee Agency. As we have discussed how our institutions might act faithfully and boldly in these turbulent times, I have been reflecting on how we Episcopalians can respond to what is unfolding around us as followers of the Risen Christ whose first allegiance is to the kingdom of God, not to any nation or political party. The events of the last several days lend urgency to this spiritual challenge. Earlier this week, President Trump’s executive order banning or restricting travel from 19 countries went into effect. This order impacts countries that are home to dioceses of The Episcopal Church and many of our Anglican Communion partners, and I have written to the bishops and primates in those countries to express our concern. The unwarranted deployment of the National Guard and U.S. Marine Corps on the streets of Los Angeles also signals a dangerous turn. As the bishops of California have written, these military deployments risk escalating the confrontations unnecessarily and set a dangerous precedent for future deployments that heighten tensions rather than resolve them. As Christians committed to strive for justice and peace among all people, we know that there is a better way. What we are witnessing is the kind of distortion that arises when institutions like the military and the State Department are turned on the people they were meant to protect. These mainstays of the federal government, designed to safeguard civil society and promote peace and stability, are now being weaponized for political advantage. The violence on television is not our only risk. We are also seeing federal budget proposals that would shift resources from the poor to the wealthy; due process being denied to immigrants; and the defunding of essential public health, social service, and foreign aid programs that have long fulfilled the Gospel mandate to care for the vulnerable, children, and those who are hungry and sick. With all of this in mind, we are finding ways to respond as Christians to what we see happening around us. We are exploring options to support litigation challenging the travel ban on the ground of religious freedom; advocating for federal spending that safeguards the welfare of the most vulnerable; caring for immigrants and refugees in our congregations and communities; and standing in solidarity with other faith groups. In short, we are practicing institutional resistance rooted not in partisan allegiance, but in Christian conviction. At its best, our church is capable of moral clarity and resolute commitment to justice. I believe we can bring those strengths to bear on this gathering storm. Churches like ours, protected by the First Amendment and practiced in galvanizing people of goodwill, may be some of the last institutions capable of resisting the injustice now being promulgated. That is not a role we sought—but it is one we are called to. In Geneva, I have been reminded that we are part of a global communion of hope in the Risen Christ. We do not stand alone as we live by our baptismal promises: to persevere in resisting evil, to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being. In these troubling times, may we find courage and resilience in our identity as members of the Body of Christ. Yours in Christ, The Most Rev. Sean Rowe Presiding Bishop The Episcopal Church Last Sunday, as part of our Pentecost celebration, Ministry Assistant Maddie Abbott invited the River community into a daily spiritual practice: find a place you pass each day — a doorway, a mirror, a subway entrance — and pause to pray the simple words, “Come, Holy Spirit.” This short prayer is rooted in centuries of Christian tradition — but it also resonates with radical movements of justice and renewal in more recent history. That’s why this week’s Resource of the Week includes two offerings that speak to one another:
Together, these two resources invite us to live more deeply into the reality that the Spirit is always moving — and always creating something new. Come, Holy Spirit: A prayer with deep rootsThe simple invocation, “Come, Holy Spirit,” has been prayed by Christians for centuries. One of the most well-known versions of this prayer begins: Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Thy faithful and kindle in them the fire of Thy love. Send forth Thy Spirit and they shall be created. And Thou shall renew the face of the earth. O God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of Thy faithful, grant us in the same Spirit to be truly wise, and ever to rejoice in His consolation. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen. This prayer, drawn in part from Psalm 104:30, became a central part of Catholic devotional life in the Middle Ages. It was often used to open classes, sermons, or times of discernment — especially when people felt uncertain or needed guidance. Its words express longing for God’s presence, but also trust in God’s renewing power. A related text, the "Golden Sequence" (Veni Sancte Spiritus), is a Latin hymn composed in the 13th century, traditionally attributed to Stephen Langton or Pope Innocent III. Still sung during Pentecost Mass today, it describes the Holy Spirit as consoler, rest-giver, truth-bringer, and joy-maker. While the shorter prayer and the hymn are distinct, they share a deep theological insight: that the Holy Spirit is not just a comforting presence, but a creative force — a Spirit who renews the face of the earth. Across centuries and traditions — from medieval monasteries to charismatic revivals — this prayer has helped people open their hearts to something beyond their own power. It’s a way of saying: "I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what’s next. But I’m open. Come, Holy Spirit." Azusa reimagined by keri dayIf "Come, Holy Spirit" is a prayer of invitation, Keri Day’s book Azusa Reimagined: A Radical Vision of Religious and Democratic Belonging is a vision of what happens when that invitation takes root in the world.
In this powerful theological reflection, Day reclaims the story of the Azusa Street Revival — a 1906 outpouring of the Holy Spirit that began in a small, multi-racial Los Angeles church led by William J. Seymour, a Black Holiness preacher. What happened there was extraordinary: people of all races and economic backgrounds came together to pray, sing, speak in tongues, and experience healing. The revival spread rapidly, sparking similar Spirit-filled gatherings across the U.S. and the world. This moment marked the birth of the Pentecostal movement, one of the fastest-growing expressions of Christianity globally today. Its emphasis on the power of the Spirit, deep worship, and the full participation of all people — across race, gender, and class — was radically countercultural then, and remains vital now. Importantly for us: the River traces its roots to this tradition. We come out of the broader Pentecostal and charismatic movement — part of a lineage that believes the Holy Spirit is not just a historical idea but an active, present reality. While the River has evolved over the years as we’ve left the Vineyard movement and fully embraced the LGBTQ+ community, we continue to be shaped by that same conviction: that the Spirit moves among us with power, compassion, and creativity. In fact, we believe that it is an openness to the continued presence and work of the Holy Spirit that allows us to continue to grow and evolve as we continue to discern how we can best support and uplift all members of this community, during Pride month and every month. Keri Day invites us to take another look at Azusa — not just as a revival of individual hearts, but as a theological and political event. She argues that the Spirit at Azusa didn’t just transform people’s emotions or prayer lives — it disrupted structures of white supremacy, patriarchy, and economic inequality. It was a new vision of belonging, a Spirit-birthed community that defied the social order. In her words, Azusa offered “a radical social imaginary,” one in which the Spirit collapses hierarchies and invites us into a deeper, freer form of community. That vision speaks powerfully to the kind of church the River strives to be. |
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