A Sacred Romance
Rev. Richard Brendan • February 9, 2026
To Be Known, Chosen, and Loved
Valentine’s Day often celebrates romance with spark, cards and flowers. But beneath the surface, it gestures toward something older and truer: the human ache to be known, chosen, and loved without condition. Scripture and the mystics speak of love as pursuit, union, and fidelity. God is a lover who calls, waits, and delights. Human romance becomes a parable: when it is true, it trains us in tenderness; when it breaks, it exposes our deeper hunger. Whether partnered, single, healing, or hopeful – romance as its best whispers the same truth: You were made for communion. In short, Valentine’s Day celebrates love we seek. Sacred Romance reveals love that seeks us.

The experience of exclusion tempts us to blame ourselves, to think that we're falling short, that we are somehow wrong, damaged, unacceptable, or unworthy. To fix these perceived shortcomings, we may seek to fit in. There's nothing inherently wrong with fitting in — it can feel great — but it may come at the cost of our authenticity. In Letter to My Daughter , Maya Angelou writes, “You only are free when you realize you belong no place — you belong every place — no place at all.” She does not mean that we are rootless, but speaks of abandoning the chase for approval so we can be free to show up authentically. We do not need to change who we are to belong. Brené Brown eloquently unpacks Angelou's profound statement in this video. May it offer you reassurance, comfort, and courage as we continue exploring what belonging means.

Have you noticed it? If you’ve been with us at The Garden over the past six weeks, you’ve likely walked right over it—the Labyrinth just outside the sanctuary doors. It’s easy to miss when we’re rushing in or out, but it’s there quietly inviting us to slow down, breathe, and pay attention to the path beneath our feet. As we move toward Easter, that invitation feels especially timely. This Sunday is Palm Sunday, the moment in the story when Jesus enters Jerusalem to cheers, branches waving, and a sense of possibility in the air. But that joyful procession is only the threshold of a much deeper journey. In the days that follow, Jesus moves through experiences that are profoundly human—sharing meals with friends, seeking quiet in a garden, wrestling with uncertainty, facing conflict, and ultimately walking a path that leads to the cross. The story does not shy away from suffering or loss, yet it also doesn’t end there. It moves through death into the promise of new life, renewal, and hope. Whether you connect with this story as history, metaphor, or a mirror for your own life, it offers a pattern many of us recognize: how celebration and struggle often sit side by side, how a single week can hold both joy and heaviness, and how transformation sometimes emerges from places we would never choose. As we enter this meaningful week, I invite you to consider your own path. What are you carrying right now? Where are you seeking connection, clarity, or courage? What parts of your journey are asking for attention, and what new life might be waiting just beyond what you can see? Let this be a week to walk with intention—to notice the twists and turns, the companions along the way, and the quiet hope that can rise even in uncertain places.

"Be you" is common advice. But what does it mean? The exhortation to "be you" is an invitation to relax into yourself and let go of worries that you don't measure up to someone else's idea of who you are or should be. "Be you" means be honest––to yourself first and then with the world––about your thoughts, feelings, insecurities, passions, interests, and inclinations. It means you're more than worthy. It means you are enough. It means you're worth knowing, seeing, and loving. Our resistance to be ourselves comes from fear, judgement, and insecurity. Fear tells us "hide." Judgment says, "you're not good enough, so you better pretend." Insecurity warns, "people won't like you if they really see you." But it can be easy to Be You. You don't have to do anything; you can just be. The only barrier is self-acceptance. Love can break through that. May this week give you space to breathe, to soften, and to trust that who you are is already held in love.

This Sunday, we continue our Lenten journey with the theme of belonging. The National Institutes of Health recognizes belonging as a fundamental human need that shapes our mental, physical, and social well-being. One of the insights from our Greenhouse Challenge was the recognition that many people in the U.S. are experiencing loneliness. In response, The Garden has been exploring what it means to belong—not just socially, but spiritually and communally. During worship, we’ll check in with Scott Semester to hear how our grant initiative may help us create spaces of sanctuary—places where people feel seen, safe, and truly at home. Our Scripture this week, Ecclesiastes 4:12, reminds us that “a cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Belonging is not just about individual strength—it’s about the resilience we find in connection. When we walk together, support one another, and share our lives, we become stronger than we ever could be alone. May we continue to weave lives of compassion, curiosity, and courage—threads that bind us to one another and to the sacred truth that we belong.





