In an age where headlines shout about conflict and division, kindness might seem like a weak response.  We may think power means protecting our own interests, but true strength sometimes shows up in unexpected ways—through loyalty, mercy, and compassion.

One such example is King David, a leader remembered for his bravery, poetic soul, failures and heartfelt repentance. But what’s often overlooked is his unwavering commitment to the people he loved, and the promises he made.

Before David became king, he had a deep friendship with Jonathan, son of King Saul. Though Saul viewed David as a threat, Jonathan and David made a covenant to care for one another’s families, no matter what.

After Saul died in battle, the kingdom was divided. While David was accepted as king by the tribe of Judah, Saul’s son Ish-bosheth was made king over the northern tribes. Despite this political rivalry, David did not seek to harm Jonathan’s brother, and when Ish-bosheth was assassinated, David grieved.

David became king over all Israel but never forgot his promise. Instead of eliminating Saul’s descendants as expected, David asked a startling question:
“Is there anyone left of the house of Saul to whom I can show kindness for Jonathan’s sake?” (2 Samuel 9:1)

The answer was Mephibosheth, Jonathan’s son. Crippled and living in obscurity, Mephibosheth had every reason to fear David. But remembering his promise, David brought Mephibosheth to the palace and gave him a seat at the royal table, treating him like one of his own sons-- grace in action and a promise kept.

In today’s world, David’s story challenges us. What if kindness wasn’t weakness but strength? What if honoring our commitments and caring for others, even when it’s not required or expected, is how real leadership looks?

We may not sit on thrones, but we all have opportunities to keep the promises that bind us to one another. Sometimes that means being gracious in political or ideological disagreements, honoring the social promise of democracy: a commitment to respectful discourse even when we strongly disagree. It can mean forgiving long-standing family disagreements as a way of honoring the deeper promises of family love and loyalty.  Supporting the United Way, Brookings Food Pantry, Feeding Brookings, the Backpack Project, Jack’s Cupboard, Harvest Table, Salvation Army, or Margo’s Place, or others is a way to live out our social commitment to care for the vulnerable in our communities.

As our world wrestles with division and uncertainty, David’s story offers a needed reminder: there is another way. A better way. One that keeps its promises and extends kindness—even when the world forgets how.
Maybe this is a message we need not only to hear but to live and share.

(written on behalf of the Brookings Ministerial Association)

In a time when so many people are looking for hope, connection, and meaning, the churches in our community have an opportunity—and a responsibility—to show up together. One way we do that in Brookings is through the Brookings Ministerial Association (BMA).

The BMA brings together pastors and church leaders from all kinds of faith traditions. It’s not just for certain denominations or theological viewpoints. It’s for anyone who cares about supporting the spiritual life and well-being of this community. If your church or faith group wants to be part of encouraging and caring for people in Brookings, there’s a place for you.

We truly are better when we work together. Through the BMA, we can do things no single church could do on its own—things like the annual Worship in the Park during the Summer Arts Festival, or the Voucher Program that helps people in crisis get a night in a hotel or money for gas or food. We also plan joint services during Lent and Holy Week, and a special Community Thanksgiving Service. And through ongoing partnerships with local agencies, we’re able to connect people to resources and respond more effectively when someone is in need.

Being part of the BMA also gives pastors and church leaders a chance to support each other. Ministry can feel lonely at times, but this group reminds us that we’re not in it alone. We pray together, encourage one another, and share ideas.

We also share in public witness. BMA members take turns writing a weekly article—like this one—for the Brookings Register Church Page. It’s one more way we lift up faith, hope, and community across Brookings.

Maybe your faith community isn’t part of the BMA yet—but we hope you’ll consider it. Encourage your pastor or church leader to come to a meeting, reach out to someone already involved, or attend an upcoming event. You’d be welcome.

When communities of faith come together, we send a powerful message—that God’s love isn’t limited to one building or group, but is wide enough to hold us all, and strong enough to help us serve our neighbors together. 
For more information, contact: [email protected]
Submitted by Donna Flint, Chairperson of the Brookings Ministerial Association

There's a thread of history in the Bible that's easy to miss unless you're looking for it. It begins with a young man named Joseph, the favorite son of Jacob. His jealous brothers threw him into a well and sold him into slavery in Egypt. But God was at work in Joseph's life. After years of hardship, Joseph rose to power, becoming second only to Pharaoh himself. When famine hit the land, it was Joseph who saved not only Egypt but also his own family—the very brothers who had betrayed him.

That's how Jacob's family, the Israelites, ended up in Egypt. And over generations, they grew from a small family to a large population. But then, Scripture says, "a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph" (Exodus 1:8). The people who had once been honored guests became enslaved. The impact of Joseph's leadership and faithfulness was forgotten.

It's a cautionary tale. Even the greatest stories of faith and service can fade from memory if they are not lived out in the present. It raises a tough question for today's churches and for all of us who seek to do good: What have we done lately?

Churches often take pride in their history. And rightly so. Many have deep roots of service, worship, and outreach. But if we're not careful, we can spend so much time looking back that we forget to look around. Are we still feeding the hungry? Are we still speaking up for justice? Are we still showing love to the outsider?

And to those who’ve drifted away from church—or perhaps never felt connected in the first place—this story may still speak. Maybe you haven’t seen the church at work lately, and wondered, What difference does it make anymore?  That’s a valid question. But maybe—just maybe--you are part of the answer.  What lives might be changed if you found a faith community and joined your efforts with theirs?

The Israelites weren’t forgotten forever. God called Moses—a reluctant leader with a checkered past—and used him to bring the Israelites to freedom. But it started when someone showed up. Someone listened. Someone said yes.  Maybe today, that person is you.

Whether you're a longtime church member or someone searching for meaning, you don’t have to have all the answers. But your compassion, your voice, your willingness to serve—those might be exactly what’s missing right now. You could be the one who reminds the world what the church can be.

Because no matter how powerful the story of the past may be, the real question is always: What are we doing now?