Words from Our Members

How does a recovering Southern Baptist from rural Appalachian Kentucky finds her way to Lincoln Street in Portland, Oregon? The trees!

Growing up in a small mountain town in Kentucky, where church was as musical as it was spoken, I spent countless hours walking with my dog along the forested ravine behind my parents’ home and sitting in or listening to choir. That forest, the musical traditions at home and at church, and the rhythm of regular worship formed the roots of what would become an inextricably woven tapestry of spirituality, music, and nature in my life.

When M and I relocated to Portland, the mecca of urban forestry, in 2022 (by way of Memphis, TN and California), I immediately began searching for a church home for us. I learned this week, from Pastor Elizabeth, that exactly 100 years earlier, in 1922, Lincoln Street’s cornerstone was laid and the congregation that had been meeting in the basement since 1912 moved into this sanctuary. These kinds of synchronicities, I am finding as I age, feel like divine nods that I am on the right path.

I was seeking a spiritual home that cultivated what I learned, at Camp Magruder, were some of the “fruits of the Spirit” that Apostle Paul describes: unconditional love, joy, peace. Additionally, commitment to divine truth and a heart for community service grow here where there is a deep sense of the interconnectedness of humanity. I wanted a place that still made time to stop and appreciate people in all their unique expressions, to pause and smell the roses, to make and enjoy music together, to savor and share the sweetness of life.

My first visit here with M happened to be during one of the Dirksons’ tooth ceremonies. In this small historic neighborhood, with a traditional-looking church nestled under an ash tree canopy, I discovered a proportionally large and progressive congregation, grounded in a focus on children of all ages together. I watched this coming‑of‑age ritual that uplifted a child and then invited them to return their tooth - literal calcium, back to the soil on which this church stands, as the community encouraged them to begin cultivating their own relationship with the Spirit. The poetry and creative writings woven thoughtfully into worship each week, the passion for music, and the steady, courageous constituency willing to face hard social truths and show up for justice in the community all spoke directly to my soul.

Back to calcium: our children’s collective teeth, buried outside, give a quiet sermon of their own. Calcium is essential for wood; it helps form and maintain woody plants’ cell walls and contributed to trees’ structural stability. In the same way, having our roots planted here—M’s and mine—has given us a solid spiritual foundation. To grow, be cared for, pruned, challenged, and creatively nurtured alongside this congregation has meant the world to us.

Even the peach, Prunus persica, offers a parable. It belongs to the same taxonomic family as the rose—Rosaceae, a family at home in this City of Roses. That family includes many beloved berries, cherries, apples, and stone fruits whose commonality is generally found in sweet‑smelling, five‑petaled blossoms designed to attract bees, their primary pollinators. Trees build themselves taller and wider by taking in carbon (we exhale) and releasing oxygen (that we inhale). By miraculous design, we live in a complementary exchange. I see the same pattern in spiritual growth, as wayward, lost, and wounded people find their way into a healing community, and the community in turn absorbs and transforms their wounds while also celebrating and cultivating joy. That is what Lincoln Street has done for my family and for so many others.

The fruits of the Spirit are carefully tended here—by our pastor and by each of you—and we share that bounty with one another and with the wider community, becoming a balm for a world that needs both darkness and light.

I once saw a tip jar in a restaurant that read, “Money is the root of all evil. Cleanse yourself here.” It made me smile, but it also made me think about our stewardship campaign. In many ways, this church practices the opposite: it helps wash away the grime of capitalism so that, through the symbolic act of giving, we can collectively build strength, beauty, truth, patience, and divine love in the world that honors our democracy. Even just one dollar a week, given consistently, becomes an act of generosity that nourishes God’s home.

In closing, thank you for being who you are, and for believing in a God of your own understanding while bringing that faith into this place founded over a century ago. Together, we make this shared tree stronger and sweeter—its branches more musical when the breeze blows, its trunk more flexible and resilient as we continue to grow. --RC