“So what do you do?” someone asked me recently, at a neighborhood party. We’d shared the usual small talk, and complained together about the ice that currently encases all of Cambridge. Then, “So what do you do?”

I always weigh my response before I reply. If I tell this person that I am pastor, will I receive a blistering response about how awful the church has been over the centuries and how could I work for an institution like that? (OK, that’s rare, but it has happened more than once.) Will people suddenly begin to share why they don’t go to church, even though I’ve not asked? Will my answer be received with cool politeness, and then the conversation will switch to safer topics?

To be honest, even though I love my work, I sometimes answer, “I work for a non-profit.” (Interestingly enough, no one has ever asked me what non-profit I work for.)

It’s not always easy to engage the conversation of faith. We don’t want to offend; we don’t want to step inadvertently into someone else’s painful history. We don’t want to seem pushy like the overeager evangelists we pass on the street. In a society where religion divides as much as unites, we don’t want to get caught in a tough conversation about God. Especially not at a neighborhood party.

And yet … if I’m honest, I know that my faith is a central part of who I am. When I wake in the night with worries about the world, it’s prayer that settles my spirit. Walking the streets of Cambridge, I’m likely to be humming a spiritual (current favorite: “I just can’t give up now / I’ve come too far from where I started from / Nobody told me the road would be easy / I don’t believe God brought me this far to leave me.”) Greeted with the news of someone in need, it’s my faith that moves me to immediately ask, “What do you need? How can I help?” My days are circumscribed by the rhythms of the Christian year: a long season of Epiphany followed by Lent followed by Easter… So why do I hesitate to tell others?

I know I’m not alone in this. Many of you have told me that you wish you could speak more easily about your faith, and that you wish your faith were deeper and more confident. I expect that’s true for all of us, no matter how long we’ve been in the church. The journey of faith is, well, a journey. There’s always another step to take, another turn beckoning us into the unknown.

This yearning is why we are inviting everyone to a study of Unbinding Your Heart: 40 Days of Prayer and Faith-Sharing. This resource is exactly what it says it is: forty daily prayer exercises including daily scripture, reflection and prayer. You’ll be invited to share once a week with a prayer partner in the congregation (you get to choose!), giving you a chance to share with another faithful person what your experience of prayer has been like. You’ll also be invited to read a chapter each week about the obstacles and opportunities of sharing your faith story. You’ll be invited to meet with a small group in person or online to learn together how to describe the centrality of faith in your life.

There are more details about this church-wide study later in this newsletter. Pick up a book at worship this Sunday, and begin the prayer practices on February 24! The following week, starting with March 2, we’ll begin the small groups to talk about the chapters we are reading together.

My hope and our prayer is that together we will open a prayerful, curious space for the Holy Spirit to enter each one of our hearts, and to enter the heart of Harvard-Epworth Church in all its diversity of people and places. While I can’t predict the exact outcome, I have experienced enough of God’s persistent presence to know that when we join in these practices together, amazing things begin to happen! Lives are opened; wounds are healed; seekers come to experience the love we embody together. I hope you’ll join me and Mitch and the rest of our Harvard-Epworth community as we unbind our heart, and open our lives, to all God has in store for us.