Between Sundays
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.” — Jeremiah 1:5
This Sunday is going to be a good one. A really good one.
Emily, Savannah, Anna, and Briella will stand before this congregation and confirm their baptism. They will speak for themselves, in their own voices, the faith that has been growing in them, and they will be received into the full membership of this community. I have been looking forward to this Sunday for months, and I cannot wait to share it with all of you.
But first, let me tell you about my week.
As many of you know, this weekend I helped my parents complete their move from the Hampton Roads area to Alexandria, to be closer to my brother and to me. And as these things go, a move is never just a move. It is also the distribution of heirlooms, the sorting of decades, the careful decisions about what goes where and who gets what. My daughter is setting up her first home outside the dorms this year, which meant kitchen tables and beds and chairs all needed to make the trip north. So we did what any self-respecting pastor and mother of young adults does in a situation like this. We rented a U-Haul. A big one.
My kids followed me up from Alexandria to Frederick with our goods in tow, and when I pulled that truck into the U-Haul depot on the Golden Mile to drop it off Tuesday morning, a man pumping gas nearby did a visible double take as I dropped out of the cab. He looked at me, looked at the truck, and said, “You driving that?!”
Now, I’ll be honest with you. What I said was perfectly polite. What I wanted to say, in my best Elle Woods voice, was: What, like it’s hard?
For the record, it was not hard. And for further record, this was not even my largest truck. That distinction belongs to the 30-foot moving truck (pictured below) I drove down the Long Island Expressway in 2024 helping a friend move. If you haven’t navigated a large vehicle through New York traffic, I highly recommend it for building both character and confidence.
I share this story not to brag, though I will confess to being just a little proud of myself, but because it connects directly to what I am thinking about as we head into this Sunday.
This year marks the 70th anniversary of The Methodist Church ordaining women. Seventy years since the door was officially opened, since the church said formally and on record that God’s call does not sort by gender. Seventy years, which sounds like a long time until you realize how recently it was, and how much work remains. The women who walked through that door first did so knowing the room was not entirely sure it wanted them there. They went anyway. They preached anyway. They led anyway. And because they did, I get to stand in a pulpit every Sunday morning and do the same.
I’ll think about that when I look at Emily, Savannah, Anna, and Briella this Sunday.
These four young women have spent these past months learning what it means to follow Jesus and what it means to claim that faith as their own. They have shown up, asked good questions, and carried themselves with a quiet confidence that has genuinely moved me. On Sunday they will walk to the front of that sanctuary and make promises in front of this entire congregation. That takes courage. That takes conviction. That takes exactly the kind of strength that has always lived in women, whether the world was ready to see it or not.
So here is what I want to say to Emily, Savannah, Anna, and Briella, and to every daughter and granddaughter: do not let anyone look at you and ask, surprised, “You doing that?” as if the thing you are attempting is somehow beyond you. Or if they do, smile, and remember that women have been doing impossible things for a very long time. We drove the truck. We opened the door. We stood at the empty tomb and carried the news before anyone thought to ask if we were qualified.
You are more than qualified. You were known before you were formed. You were set apart before you took your first breath. And as you stand in front of this congregation on Sunday and confirm your baptism we are all going to be cheering you on each step of the way!
I cannot wait to see you there.
Until Sunday, and all the days between,
Dr. Hutton