This week’s lectionary text is one I have always loved: Jacob’s dream at Bethel (Genesis 28:10–19a). Fleeing from the consequences of his own actions, Jacob stops to rest, using a stone for a pillow. In the midst of uncertainty and fear, God meets him in a dream of unimaginable possibility—a ladder reaching from earth to heaven, with angels ascending and descending upon it. The vision is so profound that Jacob awakens and declares, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” He continues, “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
Have you ever experienced a moment when you knew beyond any doubt that God was standing beside you? I have. It came during a season when I was afraid and uncertain about the future. It was one of those sacred moments that forever shaped how I respond to fear and the unknown. I heard God speak—not audibly, but unmistakably. No amount of rational explanation can convince me otherwise.
Our faith has always been sustained by such moments. We sing about them every Sunday. For generations, believers have proclaimed that God is with us, that God provides, and that we are never forsaken. We sing:
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee.”
We pray with the psalmist:
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff—they comfort me.” (Psalm 23)
These hymns and scriptures were born not in easy times but in seasons when fear was justified, and the unexpected had become reality. Poets, composers, and writers alike dared to sing a different story. They gave us words that continue to ring with hope because they testify not to the absence of hardship but to the abiding presence of God.
Perhaps that is why summertime has always been a season for singing.
Summer invites us to recover our souls. It is the fragrance of flowering plants, afternoons beside lakes and oceans, hikes through the mountains, campfires and roasted marshmallows, children laughing beneath the spray of opened fire hydrants, lively city streets alive with visitors and neighbors, and evenings that linger just a little longer. These ordinary moments remind us that God is present not only in mountaintop experiences but also in the simple rhythms of everyday life.
We need these moments. Fear, worry, doubt, and even apathy can easily dominate our lives if we never pause long enough to remember God’s goodness. We need time to breathe deeply again, to regain our perspective, and to recover hope. I have found myself praying this often over the past year as I have watched troubling news, wrestled with the changing realities of our world, and listened to the concerns and anxieties of our presbyteries and congregations. My prayer has been simple: that we might find time to recover, refocus, and move forward in faith. As I reflect on summer, I also think of George Gershwin’s beloved song, “Summertime,” from Porgy and Bess. Clara sings the lullaby to her child, illustrating a vision of a world where “the living is easy.” Yet the beauty of the song lies in the tension between the world she imagines and the difficult world she actually lives in.
That tension gives the song its enduring power.
It speaks of hope in the midst of hardship. Though surrounded by poverty and uncertainty, the lullaby imagines a future filled with peace and possibility. Hope is never the denial of hardship; it is the conviction that hardship does not have the final word.
It offers a parent’s blessing—a promise that one day a child will “spread your wings and take to the sky.” In situations where too many parents watch their children struggle or suffer, this prayer remains worthy of every generation.
The song also celebrates God’s abundance in creation. Summer, harvest, and provision remind us that creation itself bears witness to God’s generosity.
And finally, it welcomes us into peace. The lullaby offers rest rather than striving, trust rather than anxiety. Christians hear resonances of Jesus’ promise: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” (John 14:27)
Perhaps its most enduring message is that every child deserves to inherit a future overflowing with hope and opportunity.
As we continue living into our vision of Reimagining the Church in the World, we are called to ask ourselves an important question: What is our collective and individual responsibility for constructing a future worthy of the next generation?
For nearly ninety years, “Summertime” has found resonance across cultures because it speaks to longings we all share—for peace amid turbulent times, enough to sustain life, safety for our children, love within our families, and hope that reaches beyond the present moment.
Scripture reminds us that such hope is far more than wishful thinking. It is grounded in the faithfulness of God, who accompanies us through every season until the fullness of God’s kingdom is revealed.
Jacob knew this. He laid his head upon a stone while running from the consequences of his past. He expected uncertainty. Perhaps he even expected judgment. Instead, he encountered grace. God met him with a promise rather than condemnation, with blessing rather than rejection, and with a dream that transformed his future.
May this summer become such a season for us—a time to rest, to recover, to dream again, and to discover anew that the Lord is indeed in this place.
Rev. Ashley
