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Like many of you, I was saddened to hear of the death of Pope Francis. Even though I’m not Catholic, I’ve long admired his humility, his boldness, and the way he lived out the Gospel with a heart for the poor and the hurting. There was something deeply pastoral about him — a gentleness that invited people in, and a courage that called the Church to be better.

As a United Methodist pastor, I’ve found myself reflecting on our connection to the Roman Catholic Church, especially in moments like this when the Body of Christ is grieving. We may worship in different ways, hold different doctrines, and be shaped by different histories, but we share so much more than what divides us. We believe in the Trinity. We follow Jesus. We try — some days better than others — to live lives marked by grace and love. And in this moment, we share grief.

Pope Francis is the fifth pope to be elected in my lifetime. Since I was born in 1970, I’ve witnessed five papal transitions — from Pope Paul VI, to the brief and humble John Paul I, to the long and impactful leadership of John Paul II, then Benedict XVI, and finally, Pope Francis. I never expected to live through so many transitions in the papacy, but each one has been a profound reminder of how the Church — Catholic and otherwise — continues to evolve, and yet remain rooted in timeless truths.

When I lived in Europe, I had the great privilege of visiting the Vatican and the Sistine Chapel. I still remember walking into the chapel and looking up at Michelangelo’s ceiling — the artistry, the sacredness, the sheer awe of it all. It’s humbling to think that the very place I stood is where the College of Cardinals gathers in solemn prayer and discernment to elect a new pope. The process is both ancient and moving: the cardinals vote in secret, and smoke rising from the chapel’s chimney tells the world if a new pope has been chosen — black smoke for no, white smoke for yes. It’s one of the most mysterious and symbolic practices in the Christian world.

John Wesley, the founder of our Methodist movement, lived during a time of sharp religious division in England. Anti-Catholic sentiment was not only common—it was politically and socially ingrained. Catholics were often viewed with suspicion, treated as outsiders, and denied basic civil rights. But Wesley refused to participate in that kind of hatred. Instead, he wrote a pastoral letter to Roman Catholics in 1749, encouraging mutual understanding and emphasizing the beliefs we hold in common: the love of God, the grace of Jesus Christ, and the call to live lives of holiness and compassion. In an age of division, Wesley chose a different path: unity through love.

In his sermon “On Catholic Spirit,” Wesley asked, “Though we cannot think alike, may we not love alike?” That question feels just as relevant today.

Pope Francis lived with a “catholic spirit” in the truest sense — a spirit that was humble, inclusive, and Christlike. He invited the Church to be less about power and more about people. He reminded us that mercy is central, and that the Church must always be on the side of the poor, the immigrant, the forgotten.

So today, I pray for our Catholic friends. I grieve with them. And I give thanks for a leader who inspired not just Catholics, but Christians across the world — including this United Methodist pastor from North Carolina.

May Pope Francis rest in the peace of Christ.  And may we walk in grace, serve with humility, and love without limits until it is our time to rest.  See you the next Sunday!

Peace, Pastor Tracy