My Blog

Author: Fr. Ron Pogue

  • The Pulpit of Trinity Church

    Last week we removed the brass pulpit from Trinity and took it to Houston where it was refinished and sealed. On Friday we reinstalled it and I must say that results are lovely. The altar guild is pleased because they no longer have to polish it. We thank those members whose gifts made this improvement to our worship space possible.

    e-piphanies from the Trinity Pulpit

    This is the pulpit of Galveston’s Trinity Church. It is a memorial to the Right Reverend Alexander Gregg, who was elected the first bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Texas at a convention held in this very place in 1859. I am honored to be able to proclaim the good news from this pulpit, where so many faithful preachers have stood before me. The important thing is not the pulpit or the preacher. The important thing is what happens in a pulpit – sermons. A sermon is an event through which divine inspiration intersects human intelligence and emotion so that transformation occurs. Terry Holms compared preachers to Hermes, the mythi-cal messenger of the gods. He said that there are three important things to understand about Hermes in Greek mythology: first, he had to travel through chaos to deliver the message entrusted to him; second, he had to subvert perceptions; and third, the message did not belong to him, but to the hearers of the message. Any preacher will tell you that the process of preparing and delivering a sermon is often chaotic, that subverting perceptions, getting people to look at things in a different way, is usually necessary, and that the Holy Spirit at work in the lives of the hearers pro-duces results we preachers never dreamed of. This pulpit and millions of other pulpits around the world, is the scene of count-less epiphanies every week. People are helped, lives are trans-formed, Christ’s Church is built up. So, whenever you see a pulpit, thank God for the times a preacher has helped you through a sermon and offer a prayer for those who are called and ordained to preach.

  • Water and the Holy Trinity

    During my recent travels through Colorado, I sat by a stream and was reminded of the Holy Trinity and my baptism.

  • The Rev. John E. Fellers, D.D.

    Ron_john_2407
    From the Rector
    July 27, 2007
    Due to a variety of factors, family and friends often live farther apart today than ever before, making it extremely difficult to spend time with those whom we cherish. If it weren’t for email and unlimited long distance calling rates, it might be almost impossible to stay in touch. We don’t have time to write letters the way people once did. So, when you have a friend or family member with whom you remain extremely close over a long period of time, that is a real treasure.

    My friend, The Reverend John E. Fellers, was such a treasure. He died two weeks ago of complications following a stroke. We have been friends for almost forty years and we saw each other, talked on the phone, or exchanged emails at least once a week. We’ve been there for each other at significant points in the lives of our families; births, deaths, weddings, baptisms, anniversaries. Last year, he and his wonderful wife, Bobbie, celebrated their 50th Anniversary and we had such a great time. Many of you will remember that John led our Lenten series several years ago. John and Bobbie often worshipped at Trinity Church. He loved to take us to the Hotel Galvez for Sunday brunch. His parents took him there as a child and it had a family feeling for him. It is so hard to realize that he will not be there if I pick up the phone to bring him the latest news from Galveston, tell him a good joke, or ask his advice about something.

    One of the most moving and difficult things I’ve ever done was to carry his ashes out of the nave of St. Paul’s United Methodist Church in Houston down to the Columbarium in the undercroft. He made countless trips up and down that aisle during twenty-five years of ministry there, first as an associate, then as senior pastor, and finally in retirement in an assisting role. Helping what remained of John make that last trip was both an awesome privilege and a dreadful responsibility.

    My head understands but my heart is still working this out. That’s the way it is with grief. In time, God uses our faith to bring together the thoughts of our minds with the emotions of our hearts in a remarkable process of healing.

    It really is our Easter faith that helps in times like these. It is making a difference to me right now. Although I would just as soon not have had to find it out in this particular way, I am relieved to know that the faith I have shared with others who are coping with grief is the same faith that is helping me face my own. Once again, John, you have turned a difficult situation into a learning experience.

    A mutual friend was anointing John a couple of days before he died. During their brief visit, he said, “John, every word you have ever preached was true.” John looked over at him and, with a twinkle in his eye, whispered, “I know.” It is good to be able to preach the truth. And it is even better to have believed it. We are better, stronger, more faithful people because John touched our lives.

    As one of your Priests, I am often called upon to be there with and for you in times of sadness. I’m sharing this experience with you because I want to be sure you know that I have experienced sadness too. We are a priestly people, called to uphold and comfort one another in the intricately textured life God has given us. That is part of the healing process. The word “comfort” comes from the Latin con fortis, meaning “together strong.” My friend, John, and I were strong together and remain so because the larger fellowship in which our faith, hope, and love has been nurtured so long continues, even beyond time and space, in the Communion of the Saints. In time and in that Communion, with him and with you, my heart will understand what my head already knows.

  • St. Elmo, Colorado

    In this video from St. Elmo, high in the Colorado Rockies, I consider what a ghost town has to say about the transitory nature of life.

  • Forest Life Cycle e-piphanies

    While observing the different trees in an aspen forest in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado, I had this epiphany about how the diversity of the forest ensures its long life.

  • Cinnamon Pass


    I recently visited Cinnamon Pass in Southern Colorado and bring you this message from 12,600 feet.