Sermons, reflections and musings from Pastor Grace
|Freeing Speech - Sermon for Sept. 16, 2018|
James 3:1-12 New Living Translation (NLT)
Controlling the Tongue
3 Dear brothers and sisters,[a] not many of you should become teachers in the church, for we who teach will be judged more strictly. 2 Indeed, we all make many mistakes. For if we could control our tongues, we would be perfect and could also control ourselves in every other way.
3 We can make a large horse go wherever we want by means of a small bit in its mouth. 4 And a small rudder makes a huge ship turn wherever the pilot chooses to go, even though the winds are strong. 5 In the same way, the tongue is a small thing that makes grand speeches.
But a tiny spark can set a great forest on fire. 6 And among all the parts of the body, the tongue is a flame of fire. It is a whole world of wickedness, corrupting your entire body. It can set your whole life on fire, for it is set on fire by hell itself.[b]
7 People can tame all kinds of animals, birds, reptiles, and fish, 8 but no one can tame the tongue. It is restless and evil, full of deadly poison. 9 Sometimes it praises our Lord and Father, and sometimes it curses those who have been made in the image of God. 10 And so blessing and cursing come pouring out of the same mouth. Surely, my brothers and sisters, this is not right! 11 Does a spring of water bubble out with both fresh water and bitter water? 12 Does a fig tree produce olives, or a grapevine produce figs? No, and you can’t draw fresh water from a salty spring.[c]
September 16, 2018
Ouch! Uff! Stop it, James! Oh, boy, this writer is stepping all over the preacher’s toes today. I mean, I guess I could get away with it if I said, “James really means every one of us need to watch our speech.” And that is true. But he deliberately seems to be speaking to the teachers. And in the United Church of Christ, the “official” title of pastors is actually “Pastor and Teacher.”
We teach about scripture, we teach about the mission of the UCC. As teachers we have a responsibility, not just to teach, but to model what we teach. That’s not always the easiest thing for us to do.
Just like the rest of you, we are people. We have our own ideas. Our own hopes and dreams. Our own opinions. Boy, do we have our own opinions! And we like to think that our opinions are facts. We imagine that everyone must be waiting to hear what we have to say next.
Sometimes that is true. Pastors and teachers are, by virtue of their occupation, afforded a considerable amount of authority. Sometimes more than we deserve. I remember when I was first discerning my call to ministry. First, I talked with my own pastor. then with our District Superintendent (I was Methodist at the time). I was given some interviews to do, talking to other people in ministry. I talked to other people whose opinion I trusted.
Eventually, I felt clear in my call. I was ready to go to the Church Council and ask their blessing to move forward on this path. they gave it. Then, the most unusual thing happened.
I was not yet a pastor. I had not even begun seminary. But people I had known for several years in church, fellow laypersons, began treating me a little differently. Seeking me out to ask my advice on theological matters. Suddenly, I was the expert, the authority. It dawned on me that I now had, in some folks’ eyes, a standing that I had not experienced before. That I had an incredible responsibility, a sacred trust. I had to understand that there would be times that my words might influence other people. Perhaps change their actions. We hope that those who have that influence help people change for the better. Unfortunately, we know that sometimes it seems to incite and to inflame chaos and anger.
We’ve seen so much of it lately. Words that inflame racism, homophobia, and misogyny. Just because one has the power to utter words of discord and hate does not make it right. Words carry weight. And sometimes stones, sticks, and bad intentions. The old nursery rhyme has it wrong – Sticks and stones might break my bones; but words can kill the soul.
Those whose words have a global stage ought to be more careful. Our words unbridled can ignite hatred, destruction, death. We must be aware that with a few syllables we can fan the fires of fury. We see it over and over again.
But with words of love and grace, sprinkled liberally over others, we can guide others to love, to harmony, to justice. Those words can be freeing speech.
Think about it. If we can look our siblings in the eye, stand face-to=face, toe-to-toe and see the image of God, perhaps the words we use might begin to reflect God’s image of love.
It takes time. It takes thoughtful consideration of the message we are trying to convey. As I was thinking of the power of words, and wondering why it is that hate-filled speech seems to spread so quickly, I thought about Hurricane Florence. The storm’s path has been relentless, winds and rains never ceasing. The fury of that storm erodes coastlines, fells trees, flattens homes. The torrential rains wash away foundations of earth.
Yet it is the rain that gently falls on the earth that brings life. The gentle breezes that blow that bring cooling. So words that come like a torrential storm are destructive. Thoughtful speech, words of justice, words of grace bring life, bring freedom.
Ken Parker had been a Grand Dragon in the Ku Klux Klan and a member of the National Socialist Movement, a neo-nazi group, when he joined the Unite the Right Rally in Charlottesville, VA, in August 2017. He admits that their intent was to incite a race war, to spread destruction, to spread hate.
The neo-Nazi group was clad in black, not a particularly good choice on a hot, humid summer day. When they were dispersed due to unlawful assembly, he and his group gathered in a parking garage to regroup. There he encountered Deeyah Khan, an African-American woman who was filming a documentary, “White Right: Meeting the Enemy.”
Parker was dehydrated, and Khan helped him, offering him water, making sure he was okay. He was moved by her kindness. Her words, her actions had an effect on him. He began to question what he had always believed.
So much so that he approached an African-American man having a cook-out at the pool at the apartment complex where both men lived. Turns out, the other man was a pastor, William McKinnon III. Parker and his fiancé asked if he would answer some questions. They talked. Then they met up later to continue the discussion. Seven months later, Parker left the KKK and the National Socialist Movement. He joined All Saints Holiness Church, McKinnon’s primarily black congregation.
Parker said: “I was a grand dragon of the KKK, and then the Klan wasn’t hateful enough for me, so I decided to become a Nazi — and a lot of them, their jaws about hit the floor and their eyes got real big,” Parker recalls. “But after the service, not a single one of them had anything negative to say. They’re all coming up and hugging me and shaking my hand, you know, building me up instead of tearing me down.”
Freeing speech is not simply flowery words. It is the speech that calls for justice, mercy, and compassion. Freeing speech opens the way for every person to be seen as the reflection of God’s image. Freeing speech empowers those who have suffered from systematic erasure of their humanity. Freeing speech recognizes the poor, the marginalized, the ones who seek justice. Freeing speech also recognizes the humanity in those who we define as the enemy. That’s the hardest part of freeing speech, I suppose.
But today, we will begin to recognize that humanity. We will offer a prayer for justice. We will pray for those who need justice. We will pray harder for those who have sought to deny justice, just as Pastor McKinnon and his congregation prayed for Ken Parker. May our prayers free their hearts to be opened, their tongues bridled, their lives transformed. May our prayers free us to see all people in God’s image. Amen.
Posted By: Pastor Grace9/16/2018 6:26:03 PM
|Vulnerability - A Sermon on Mark 5:21-43|
Mark 5:21-43 New Living Translation (NLT)
Jesus Heals in Response to Faith
21 Jesus got into the boat again and went back to the other side of the lake, where a large crowd gathered around him on the shore.22 Then a leader of the local synagogue, whose name was Jairus, arrived. When he saw Jesus, he fell at his feet, 23 pleading fervently with him. “My little daughter is dying,” he said. “Please come and lay your hands on her; heal her so she can live.”
24 Jesus went with him, and all the people followed, crowding around him. 25 A woman in the crowd had suffered for twelve years with constant bleeding. 26 She had suffered a great deal from many doctors, and over the years she had spent everything she had to pay them, but she had gotten no better. In fact, she had gotten worse. 27 She had heard about Jesus, so she came up behind him through the crowd and touched his robe. 28 For she thought to herself, “If I can just touch his robe, I will be healed.”29 Immediately the bleeding stopped, and she could feel in her body that she had been healed of her terrible condition.
30 Jesus realized at once that healing power had gone out from him, so he turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my robe?”
31 His disciples said to him, “Look at this crowd pressing around you. How can you ask, ‘Who touched me?’”
32 But he kept on looking around to see who had done it. 33 Then the frightened woman, trembling at the realization of what had happened to her, came and fell to her knees in front of him and told him what she had done.34 And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Your suffering is over.”
35 While he was still speaking to her, messengers arrived from the home of Jairus, the leader of the synagogue. They told him, “Your daughter is dead. There’s no use troubling the Teacher now.”
36 But Jesus overheard[a] them and said to Jairus, “Don’t be afraid. Just have faith.”
37 Then Jesus stopped the crowd and wouldn’t let anyone go with him except Peter, James, and John (the brother of James). 38 When they came to the home of the synagogue leader, Jesus saw much commotion and weeping and wailing. 39 He went inside and asked, “Why all this commotion and weeping? The child isn’t dead; she’s only asleep.”
40 The crowd laughed at him. But he made them all leave, and he took the girl’s father and mother and his three disciples into the room where the girl was lying. 41 Holding her hand, he said to her, “Talitha koum,” which means “Little girl, get up!” 42 And the girl, who was twelve years old, immediately stood up and walked around! They were overwhelmed and totally amazed. 43 Jesus gave them strict orders not to tell anyone what had happened, and then he told them to give her something to eat.
July 1, 2018
Two or three Saturdays a month, I walk the halls of the hospital. I poke my head in rooms and ask if there is anything I can do. Some people say, “I’m fine.” Sometimes I walk in when they are being discharged, and so it’s true. Some think there are folks who have bigger problems. Some, I think, simply have a hard time showing their vulnerability, even when they are laying in a hospital bed, draped in a hospital gown, open down the back of course, and hooked up at least to a blood pressure cuff and pulse ox meter, oftentimes to an IV drip of antibiotics, fluids, or pain meds. Some are not able to talk, because they are on a vent, or '
There are those who know they are dying, those who know they aren’t dying, but they are going to continue to suffer with their illness for the rest of their lives. And there are those who are still waiting for answers. Whether they admit it or not, most people in the hospital, patients and their family members, are the vulnerable. They are at the mercy of infection, or trauma, or diseased hearts.
When I’m invited in, we might simply talk about fishing, or travel, or some other activity that they enjoy. I think that’s a way of avoiding the fear of what may be happening within the body. But then there are those who immediately say, pray for me. Pray for my healing. Pray that I will be cured.
That’s when I feel vulnerable. I mean, there are folks who are just not going to get better. those who are going to die. And I don’t have the words to change that. When I think about these stories of Jesus healing the woman who suffered for years with a severe hemorrhage. and bringing life to the lifeless body of the young girl, I wonder why God has put me in this difficult situation. The situation of praying for healing when it may not come.
Then I think about the people I know who aren’t in the hospital, but are suffering from illnesses and disabilities that they will never be cured of. Some are in this place of worship. Some I have prayed over for years. Then I have to stand here and preach these stories of healing. I have to look folks in the eye and repeat Jesus’ words – “Daughter, your faith has made you well.”
These encounters with Jesus led to physical healing, and life from death. But not all prayers for physical healing, not all prayers to save the body from physical death are answered in that way. We all know that. So what does it mean to share these stories? Is this all a lie?
As I began my day yesterday, I stepped into a room of a patient who immediately shared with me these words: “I know this is my fault. It is what I get for doing the things I have done.”
The patient lying in the bed was small, and trembling. There were tears in their eyes. They seemed so fragile. I couldn’t imagine what this person might have done that would cause God to “punish” them. So I asked the question “Why do you think that?”
“It’s the way I’ve treated my spouse.” I automatically thought, they are about to share an infidelity, or been verbally abusive. “I lied to them. I lied to them about my smoking. I told them I had quit. And now this.”
The patient’s smoking has diseased their lungs, but this was no punishment from God. And I know they knew that. Then they looked at me with a bit of a puzzled look and said, “You know, they didn’t know I was lying.” I’ve been around my share of smokers. People know when they are lying about smoking. You know why, right? There is that lingering scent of smoke, pervading everything – clothing, the interior of the car, everything. I remember the sweater my former mother-in-law mailed my daughter, a full three hours away. Oh, it reeked of cigarette smoke.
I couldn’t help but smile as I said, “They know.” “But they never said anything.”
The patient’s spouse knew. And the spouse knew that while they could lovingly urge them to stop, it was up to them to reach out for that help on their own. And now that they haves, the spouse is there for them.
As Jesus made his way through the crowds, he seems intent on his one mission, to visit the home of Jairus and bring healing. In a great show of vulnerability, the powerful leader, Jairus, has gone to his knees begging Jesus. Sharing his pain and suffering, literally in front of God and everybody. And Jesus responds with urgency.
Or so it seems. For there is one thing that stops him. A sense that healing power has left his own body. In the crush of people, jostling him and jockeying for position to be near him, he is aware of a single touch, the touch of a woman. Unlike Jairus, this unnamed woman has no standing in the community. In fact, she is not to touch, nor be touched by, anyone due to her bleeding. She is ritually unclean. But she also makes herself vulnerable, risks rejection, by quietly, furtively, reaching out to touch Jesus. Believing she is not worthy of his attention, but somehow knowing that he will honor her feeble attempts to make contact.
In the midst of the crowd, in the urgency of the moment, Jesus stops to attend to her. He doesn’t forget his call to be at the home of Jairus. But those who reach out to God in their vulnerability garner his attention.
That’s really the story here. It is a good thing to have confidence in Christ. But it is in our moments of vulnerability that we really get Jesus’s attention. When we go to our knees, no longer assured of our own position and power, now knowing we need God’s help, Christ responds. When we reach out, to just connect through a tentative, trembling touch, in the midst of all the clamoring for attention, Jesus senses our needs.
Know that God cares. Know that God is with you in your most vulnerable moments. In those moments when we are weakest, God is strongest. Reach out, touch his garment, feel his power. Amen.
Posted By: Pastor Grace7/1/2018 8:08:37 PM
|A Covenant with All - Sermon from February 18, 2018|
Sermon from February 18, 2018
New Living Translation (NLT)
God Confirms His Covenant
9 8 Then God told Noah and his sons, 9 “I hereby confirm my covenant with you and your descendants, 10 and with all the animals that were on the boat with you—the birds, the livestock, and all the wild animals—every living creature on earth. 11 Yes, I am confirming my covenant with you. Never again will floodwaters kill all living creatures; never again will a flood destroy the earth.”
12 Then God said, “I am giving you a sign of my covenant with you and with all living creatures, for all generations to come. 13 I have placed my rainbow in the clouds. It is the sign of my covenant with you and with all the earth. 14 When I send clouds over the earth, the rainbow will appear in the clouds, 15 and I will remember my covenant with you and with all living creatures. Never again will the floodwaters destroy all life. 16 When I see the rainbow in the clouds, I will remember the eternal covenant between God and every living creature on earth.”17 Then God said to Noah,
“Yes, this rainbow is the sign of the covenant I am confirming with all the creatures on earth.”
A Covenant with All
Here we are, the first Sunday in Lent. This is the time each year, when in the
Christian tradition we are called to spend time reflecting on our nature,
considering the ways in which we have fallen short of God’s glory, of being the
hands and feet of God, of loving our neighbors. We consider fasting from
something – like chocolate, or the occasional meal, or a small amount of money
that we will give to a good cause.
I’m not sure that those small sacrifices, if we can even call them that, get to the root of what Lent means. I’m not certain that they are sufficient for the
change of heart that is needed to heal ourselves, and our world.
On Ash Wednesday, we were confronted with the evidence that we need a deep healing, an absolute turning of the heart.
On Broadway, as Pastor Joe Larson and I offered ashes, we heard the steady beat of sacred drums and the scuffling of feet. More than one hundred indigenous people and allies walking to remind us of missing and murdered indigenous women. We heard the cries for justice. We heard the voices pleading to remember them and to respect indigenous lives.
Then, when I went home, there was more. The slaughter of fourteen teenagers and three teachers, cut down in an excruciating hour of violence. My head was spinning with the abject despair of the day.
Beyond the perpetual concern for indigenous women and the immediate horror of yet another mass shooting came the memes. One of the most horrible, “Dear God: Why do you allow so much violence in schools.” Signed, a concerned Student. “Dear concerned student, I’m not allowed in school.” Signed, God.
No. Just no.
God has been given a bad rap from time immemorial. Granted, we get some of this belief in a vengeful God comes from scripture. Let’ face it. Today, we read a part of a story in which God intentionally wiped out every living creature on earth. A shallow reading of that scripture would lead us to believe that this is a god who might operate on the maxim of the tough parent who threatens: “I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.”
That is certainly the picture that the ancient Hebrews had of God. The ancients believed the rainbow to be the bow God used to shoot lightening arrows, symbols of the fiery destruction God might rain down on unrepentant people.
It is frightening to think of our God as angry as they were in the days of Noah – so angry that God would wipe out nearly every living thing. We’ve certainly had our share of televangelists who have proclaimed that the natural disasters of today, and those caused by human beings, were really God’s judgement on us for our sin. Honestly, I have wondered myself when will God finally get so fed up with the absolute disregard for one another that seems rampant in our society. But when we listen to the words of some, they seem so certain what sin God deems so despicable that all humanity should be wiped out. Usually those sins have to do with sexual orientation, gender identity, and faith practice. So I looked to the beginning of this story: and perhaps you are all as curious as I have been.
Turns out, it is the sin of violence. Violence and corruption. Not who you love. Not your gender expression. Not the way you relate to God. Violence and corruption. Against others. Violence and corruption against the vulnerable. Violence against the other – whoever the other is. And, I imagine, the glorification of violence. The complicity in turning a blind eye to violence.
But even then, even as God wiped nearly every living creature off the face of the earth, God repented of their own violence. Did you hear that? God repented of God’s own violence. In that moment, wondering how and why God repents, I remember who God is – the one who creates, who loves, who forgives. I breathe a sigh of relief. The rainbow reminds me that God is not the destroyer of humanity, but our salvation. That God, who does have the power of life and death, most often gives life.
This gift is not to just the chosen few. Hear the words from scripture: “When I see the rainbow in the clouds, I will remember the eternal covenant between God and every living creature on earth.”17 Then God said to Noah, “Yes, this rainbow is the sign of the covenant I am confirming with all the creatures on earth.”
says those words seven times in nine verses: “with all the creatures on earth.”
I have to know that is what God means. God’s covenant is not between God and
this particular group of people. God’s covenant is God’s promise to every one
of us. And to the entirety of creation.
made covenant with you, and you, and you, and you. When you look into the sky,
that’s a message to us from God. That rainbow is your sign and my sign.
This time of Lent is a good time to remember that God opens the way for us to be made whole again. God opens the way for us to heal our relationships. God opens the way for us to care for our siblings and even those we point fingers at.
God has not allowed so much violence in our schools, or to be perpetrated against indigenous women, or the LGBTQ community, or Muslims, Christians, Jews, or people of no faith. God doesn’t take it out on us because we don’t pray in a certain way. God is not interested in punishing us, destroying us, labeling us. God loves us. All of us. Now and forever. Amen.
Posted By: Pastor Grace2/18/2018 4:24:30 PM
|Let's Go Fishing! (Sermon for January 21, 2018|
Let's Go Fishing
Jonah 3:1-10; Mark 1:4-20
January 21, 2018
Two stories of call. Just like last Sunday. And in those stories, some pretty different responses to that call. In the Gospel lesson, we have, once again, this immediate, positive response. Jesus says: “Come, follow me and I will send you out to fish for people.” Simon (who would later be called Peter) and his brother Andrew, then James and his brother John walk off the job to follow Jesus.
There’s a lot we don’t know. Did they know who Jesus was? Did Jesus really know who they were? We have a couple of clues about these men. Simon and Andrew were poor fishermen. They are casting nets from the shore, which means they don’t own a boat. James and John are on the boat they own with their father. Jesus calls from the poor and the not so poor. He’s not concerned with socioeconomic status. He’s concerned with letting everyone, everywhere, know God’s kingdom is near. And that’s good news for the poor and the not so poor.
It’s good news for the good and the not so good; for the oppressed and the privileged.
Whoa! Wait a minute! What did she say? Good news for the not so good and the privileged!
Yeah, I know. I can’t believe I just said that either. But let’s look back at Jonah’s story for a minute
Jonah was a prophet. And most of you know the story of how God saved Jonah after he was swallowed by the great fish, right? How many of you know how he got there in the first place? Anyone?
Here’s the 9-1-1 on that. Our story begins with God’s call to Jonah to go to Nineveh and preach against the people there. They have been idol worshippers. They were foreigners. And Jonah despised them.
He didn’t want to go. Maybe a bit out of fear. After all, we know that is dangerous to one’s livelihood, sometimes even life-threatening to tell people they are residents of a…well, we’ve heard that word enough in the last 10 days. But you know what I’m saying. Jonah boards a ship sailing away from Nineveh, and hopefully out of God’s gravitational pull. (Yeah, I know. What kind of prophet of God actually imagines there is a place outside of God’s gravitational pull?)
God uses some not so gentle persuasion to change Jonah’s mind – a great storm. The sailors begin to appeal to their gods, but they begin to realize it is the one living God that is causing this maelstrom, and they ask Jonah what to do. When Jonah tells them he should be thrown overboard as a sacrifice, even they seem to understand that is not God’s way – so they pray for forgiveness. When the storm is stilled, they become followers. (Surely, they knew God’s power and responded. We understand why they followed God. For most of us, it takes that kind of push to get us to figure it out.)
God’s intent was never to punish Jonah, so the great fish is sent as his means of salvation, as gross and stinky and frightening as that must have been.
Jonah heads to Nineveh and announces God’s message: “Forty more days and Nineveh will be overthrown.” And what happens next is every preacher’s fantasy. Led by their king, every single person in Nineveh repent of their evil ways, show their repentance through fasting and the wearing of sackcloth and ashes and begin to live transformed lives. Not just the people, but the animals, too!
God was determined, not to destroy Nineveh, but to transform their hearts and minds. It is what God always wants. Not the destruction of the evil, of the oppressors, but the redemption of the powers that be.
The kingdom of God has drawn near to Nineveh. And Jonah is angry. Jonah feels betrayed by God. Why? It seems in this story, the only one who was not transformed was the prophet himself. He hated Nineveh. He knew, knew deep in his heart that God would not destroy them after they had turned toward God. He couldn’t let go of that.
Sometimes we can’t either. Every one of us has at some time been hurt by actions of people that were less than loving, less than what followers of Jesus Sometimes we share that hurt. We wallow in our righteous indignation. We want God to show the other the error of their ways. So much so that we become less than loving followers of Jesus.
Our call, like the call of Jonah, like the call of the fishermen, is not to demonstrate to the world how right we are, but to reach out to others to share the love of Christ. Our hope ought not be that those that fail to follow Christ are eliminated, but that we all engage each other with the tender love of Jesus.
We need to remember something very important about the people that Jesus called. Not just that he called both the poor and the not so poor. But he also called the oppressor. In Luke 5, Jesus called Levi the tax collector, who left all that he had to follow Jesus. Tax collectors were legal thieves in those days. They collected taxes for the benefit of the Roman empire, and they made their living from whatever amount more they could collect. At Jesus’ call, Levi’s heart was transformed.
Whether we can imagine it or not, God is constantly calling us, and those in the halls of privilege and power, to be transformed. We are called to dismantle unjust structures. We are called to love our enemies.
Let’s think again about the fishermen, on the shore and in the boat. He didn’t call them to cast a solitary line. That is not what fishing was. When we cast a line, we are going for something specific. Depending on the weight of the line, the type of bait and tackle, we are fishing for a particular species of fish.
The disciples cast nets. Nets that took in everything – big fish, little fish, even debris. We are called to cast our nets, flung far and wide, to bring in the good, the bad, the indifferent. We are called to share with all of them the good news that God’s kingdom, God’s overwhelming love is near.
There is a sense of urgency. We have seen it in the last year in our country. We have seen it as we have gathered ourselves as People’s United Church of Christ. We are being called, in this moment, to be transformed. We are being called to be agents of transformation.
There is also the sense of community. We are never called into this work alone. When Jesus called the fishermen, he called them into community. Their purpose, to expand that community of faith, casting their nets over many. We are called in the same way.
We were not called to remain a fragment of the body of Christ, cut off from the rest. We have been called to cast nets that will cover those who have felt like outsiders. Called to embrace everyone, young and old, queer and straight, cisgender and transgender, through all the beautiful colors and ethnicities and cultures that create our authentic identities.
We are called together, with all we have in common, and in the beauty of our differences, to cast out the net to draw others into the presence of God’s love. Hear this invitation by Timothy Wayne Good, from his poem, I’m a Fish:
Common as carp;
Fancy as koi…
The Son came here,
Sharing great news of our Abba’s love;
Saying to us:
Kairos has come!
Kingdom has come!
Get right with your Maker,
And believe deeply in my news.
The Son walked the shore;
Saw a fisherman,
And his brother,
The Son walked the shore;
Saw a fisherman,
And his brother;
“Let’s go fishing.”
It is God’s time, Kairos, for us to go fishing. Let’s do it. Amen.
Posted By: Pastor Grace1/21/2018 9:49:26 PM
|Blog Coming Soon|
Posted By: 12/24/2017 3:21:10 AM