Sermon: Who are weeds and who are wheat? (July 19, 2026)

Pentecost 11A
July 19, 2026
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

INTRODUCTION

Today we continue through Matthew’s parabolic discourse, this series of parables. Remember last week I mentioned that Matthew has set up his Gospel with five discourses – the first is the Sermon on the Mount (instructions for faith), the second is the missionary discourse (instructions for the apostles proclaiming the kingdom of God), and now we are into the parable discourse, which will teach us some truths about God. Today’s story is the parable of the wheat and the weeds, in which an enemy sows weeds among the good seed, and the farmer tells the workers not to pull the weeds, but to wait until the harvest, when all will be sorted out. This powerful parable, along with the other readings today, bring up some tough questions about evil – where it comes from and why it is among us. Each reading offers a directive that brings us both comfort and discomfort: wait. God’s got this under control. Evil and suffering will, finally, come to an end. “Hope for what you do not see,” Paul urges in our reading from Romans, “and wait for it with patience.” 

In the midst of so many unknowns in our world, that “wait and see” message can be a difficult one to hear. But friends, do hear it today. And try to find in it some comfort and solace for whatever uncertainty you face, as we wait with patience “for the glory about to be revealed to us.” Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

There are precious few parables for which Jesus offers an explanation. One we heard last week – the Parable of the Sower – and I think the only other one is the one we just heard, the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds (or you may know it as “the Wheat and the Tares.”). I have mixed feelings about Jesus providing an explanation. I appreciate that he’s done some of the work for me as the preacher, but I think his simple, allegorical explanation lures us into a false sense of clarity about what the parable means – when really, there is still so much here for us to wrestle with! So, friends, let’s wrestle!

The first thing that strikes me is who sows the evil: that it is not God. This gets at the age-old question about the origin of evil, and how it can exist if God is indeed good. Here, Jesus tells us: the Son of Man sowed good seed, but an enemy came and sowed the weeds in and among the good seed. But interestingly, when the workers want to remove the evil weeds, the landowner (presumably God) says don’t do it. Let the weeds grow alongside the wheat, and he will sort it out later. 

Now why would he say a thing like that, and what has that got to do with our own life and faith? 

First of all, it turns out that wheat and tares are nearly impossible to tell apart, and, they are so

intertwined with the wheat, as the landowner points out, that trying to take out the one would undoubtedly uproot the other, and then where would we be? With no harvest at all! 

This feels very relatable: we also cannot always tell the difference between wheat and weed, either literally or metaphorically, though we may think we can. And, sometimes removing what we would call a weed is disruptive to the ecosystem. Look at dandelions. They have many nutritional benefits, and are some of the first flowers to appear for the pollinators, which then helps all of the other food and flowers to grow. Removing them messes with the whole ecosystem! Yet people spend time and money to remove these “weeds” from their lawn because what, they’re ugly? Why do we get to decide it is a weed? Just think of the negative impacts of removing all the dandelions! 

If it’s tricky with plants, it is even trickier with humans. Pick any politician, and some people will consider them a weed who needs to be pulled and burned, and some will see them as wheat that is making society better. Some ne’er-do-well on the street, a clear weed, may also be a devoted brother or grandson. Someone may be nice to your face, but she’s an opportunist who would push you in front of a bus if it means she’ll get ahead. I am certain that in some people’s minds, I am very much a weed – because of my political affiliation, or because I’m a woman pastor, or because I support LGBTQ+ people. And then to others, I am seen as wheat – for the exact same reasons!

Sometimes, we would go so far as to label an entire group of people as weeds (especially if it is a group we don’t really understand), because this means we can dismiss them, even judge them or think we get to decide what is best for them. And this keeps us from having to do the much harder work of loving them. I know I can and have slipped into that temptation.

Well, Jesus says, don’t do that. Let the wheat and the weeds grow together – because, frankly, you don’t know what you are doing. Only God knows our hearts, our deeds, our intentions, our value, and so only God can make the judgment. 

Of course this opens another whole can of worms: If we’re supposed to just let the wheat and weeds grow together, does that mean we should sit back and never call out the evil among us, letting it wreak havoc? That’s the ditch on the other side of the road: on one side we judge people and try to eliminate whomever we deem to be a weed; or, on the other, we do nothing, letting evil go unpunished. 

But of course, there is a road between these two ditches. And here’s one distinction: there is a difference between judging a person as evil or good, and identifying their deeds as such. “A tree is known by its fruit,” Jesus says, in the chapter just before this one. Someone could be basically good, but make bad choices, and vice versa. And for a Christian, the good fruit we’re looking for is the fruit of love. And the other fruits of the Spirit, too – joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. But the greatest of these is love. And that love should mark all of our interactions, whether with wheat or with what we would call weeds. 

Now, before I go any further, I want you to ask yourself: as I have been talking about weeds and wheat, good and evil, have you been thinking about other people who fall into each category… or are you wondering if you are, yourself, weed or wheat? 

I think sometimes in conversations like this, it feels safer to point outward, to consider whether other people and their actions are good or evil. But the real kicker of this parable comes when we point inward: what is the good or bad fruit that we are producing? And do we, maybe, produce a bit of both?

The truth is, I don’t think this parable is about people who are all good, or all bad, because such people don’t exist. None of us are always children of the kingdom, or always children of the evil one. We are all “simultaneously saint and sinner,” as Martin Luther says. And, this parable is not about everyone else; it is about us, about our own saintly and sinful hearts. 

So this brings us back to an earlier question: does that mean God wants us to let evil grow in our own hearts alongside the good, until the “end of the age” and God’ll sort it out then? What are we supposed to do with that?? 

Thankfully, we have a way of dealing with the weeds that are burned at the end of the age, that doesn’t require us to wait that long. Did you know, that every week in worship, we have a mini-apocalypse, a reckoning, a great revealing? It’s right at the beginning, before we do anything else: the confession. In these few minutes, we have a chance to come before God and say, “God, there are some weeds growing in and among the good wheat you planted in my heart. I know it is in there, but I admit, I can’t always see it or tell the difference. I try to do good, and it comes out bad. And if I’m honest, sometimes I don’t even try to do good – when I make a snarky comment, or judge bad drivers, or even other things I don’t feel comfortable saying in church. I know the weeds are in there, and I know you know which ones they are, even if I don’t always. And so, I come to you today, God, and I ask you to separate those weeds from the wheat, the bad from the good. Gather up the wheat, that it would be nourishment for my faith and for the world. And as for the weeds – just burn them up, Lord. I may weep and gnash my teeth, because it is hard to change my ways that are planted so deeply within. The weeds always seem to come back! But burn them up, anyway. And when I mess up again, do it again. So that eventually, in the final judgment, I can come before you as the best version of myself.”

And then, remarkably, God does! We hear those words of forgiveness. The slate is wiped clean. Our sin is burned up, and utterly destroyed, and we are left as the saints God named us to be in our baptism. And by his death and resurrection, Christ promises that this will never stop being the case. 

And then in our worship, sins forgiven, we collectively move into a hymn of praise – unburdened by all those weeds, as we worship our God of love and forgiveness.

Will we mess up again? Yeah. We will. But again and again, we return to God and pray the same prayer – “take away my sin” – and we are, again, forgiven. And we are again reminded that the burden of sin is not our end point, but that God is always making things new. And from there it becomes possible to be sent out not to judge the world, but to love and serve the world in Jesus’ name. Thanks be to God!

Let us pray… Gracious God, this world is full of both weeds and wheat, and we don’t always know the difference – even when it is growing in our own hearts! But you do. Help us to trust you to remove our sin, so that we would be sent out to nourish the world with your goodness. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.   

Sermon: Love and serve recklessly (July 12, 2026)

Pentecost 10A
July 12, 2026
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

INTRODUCTION

Of the four Gospels, the Gospel of Matthew is the most meticulously organized. One feature of his Gospel is that during this middle part of the Gospel, Matthew sets up five distinct discourses. The first is the Sermon on the Mount, which outlines the basic tenets of Christian faith. Then we get the missionary discourse, instructions for the twelve apostles as they are sent out to proclaim the good news of the kingdom. Today we begin the third discourse, the “parabolic discourse” – for the next few weeks, we’ll be hearing a lot of parables.

So, first question is: what is a parable? Parables in the Bible are stories that teach us something about God. The word in Greek literally means, “throw alongside,” so often what you’ll see is something very common thrown alongside something else to help us understand that latter thing better. Today’s parable, for example, is the parable of the sower – an everyday image of planting, used to show us how the Word of God takes root for us. Jesus explains its meaning, but there are still many questions: for example, what does each soil represent in today’s world? What can be done to cultivate soil so that it will be good and ready to receive God’s word?

Our first reading and Psalm are chosen to echo the planting image. Isaiah offers a poetic vision for a people in exile. He describes how all of creation praises and celebrates God for the ways God’s word waters and nourishes its growth. As you listen to that one, just hear the hope in it. Hear the joy. Let it be a word of hope, joy and peace for you, one that replenishes your soul. 

Finally, in Romans, Paul will talk about what brings life, and what brings death. Listen for where you might find life these days. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Each time I read this parable, I am struck by the recklessness of the sower. I’m no gardener, but even I know you shouldn’t just be throwing seeds willy-nilly! It’s not good stewardship; indeed, it is a waste of resources. If the sower is supposed to represent God here (and it seems like this is the intention), what does this tell us about God? 

Well, it says that God is reckless in how God scatters seed. In other words, that where we might be stingy or calculating in how we administer grace or love or compassion, God is not. God gives and gives and gives of these things so essential to his character, and if those on whom it falls do not receive it, that’s no matter to God. God will just keep tossing it until something does take root. And that, it turns out, is a God I do want: one who is not selective or exclusive, who gives freely and extravagantly, so even if I’m too hard-headed or hard-hearted to receive it, I’ll have another chance. That is pretty darn good news, I’d say!

As I started digging into this text this week, I got to thinking about our synod’s current focus on experimentation. Even when we experiment, it is usually with caution, right, after counting the cost, communicating thoroughly, etc. That’s all appropriate! But I came across this quote, and I felt very called out. Preacher Elisabeth Johnson wrote in a commentary on this text, “Too often we play it safe, sowing the word only where we are confident it will be well received, and only where those who receive it are likely to become contributing members of our congregations. In the name of stewardship, we hold tightly to our resources, wanting to make sure that nothing is wasted. We stifle creativity and energy for mission, resisting new ideas for fear they might not work -- as though mistakes or failure were to be avoided at all costs. Jesus' approach to mission is quite at odds with our play-it-safe instincts.” (Does that land for anyone else?)

Well, I was working on this sermon while I was at LCLC, church camp, with four of our young members. Camp is a place where worship is creative and there is a lot of improvisation around activities. Since I’m still sort of in camp mode, I thought we’d try something different for the sermon this week, something in the spirit of the reckless sower, who casts seed every which way without counting the cost. Don’t worry, this experiment won’t cost a dime. One place we do experiment more freely, is in play, and so, I’d like to spend the rest of the sermon playing an improv game (because it’s my birthday today and I love improv, so I hope you will humor me!). In this game, we will design a grand, new ministry, letting our imaginations go wild, and see what we can come up with. I wonder if there are four volunteers who will help me play….

Okay, to start, we need to go over some rules of improv. One is that we are not here to make anyone look bad; we want to build each other up. An important way we do that is: “yes-and.” That means that when someone says something, you don’t say, “No, that won’t work.” You say, “YES, that’s absolutely a good idea, AND I’m going to take it and add onto it.” We’re not just throwing out random, disconnected ideas; we are building on each other’s ideas. You want to build a fountain that has fruit punch instead of water? Yes! And let’s make sure there’s also a cup station so people can drink it. Get it? 

Second rule: there is no idea too crazy or outlandish. The point is not to create something we will actually carry out. The point is to be reckless in our idea-giving (and maybe even to have some laughs along the way). After a few minutes of playing the game, we will invite the whole congregation to join us in reflecting on it, noticing what themes they observed, where there was excitement, etc. Okay?

Now, here is your set-up: A generous, billionaire donor has approached St. Paul’s with a desire to fund and sustain whatever ministry we want to do, that will make Rochester a better place. Cost and resources are no issue. What should we do?

[Play for 3 minutes]

Awesome. Now, what did you hear? What ideas did you like? Where did you hear excitement? [2 min]

I think a lot of the time, our vision for ministry gets stifled by our practical concerns. “Is this sustainable? Who will run this?” While those are important questions, they can also really suck the air out of an idea! My hope with this activity was to give you a sense of what it is like to be the reckless sower, who throws the good news of God’s grace and compassion every which way, without worrying about how practical it is to forgive sinners or love outcasts or find the lost. I thought it was pretty fun! 

As we look toward the coming months, and as we continue to work toward clarifying our mission, I pray that, even as we continue to be the faithful stewards we are so good at being, that we will also channel the reckless sower and dream big about how God is using St. Paul’s to spread God’s love far and wide. I’m glad to be on this journey with you!

Let us pray… Reckless Sower, we often default to be being careful in how we love – but you don’t! You love without counting the cost. Make us brave and bold in our witness, so that we might show as many people as possible the bigness of your love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: What is freedom? (July 5, 2026)

Pentecost 5A
July 5, 2026
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

INTRODUCTION

In light of this weekend being the semiquincentennial (that’s a big word I recently learned!), it seemed only natural to approach this week’s texts with an eye toward freedom: what it looks like in our particular moment in history, and what it looks like for Lutheran Christians who start worship each week declaring not our freedom, but rather, that we are “captive to sin and cannot free ourselves.” With this lens, I noticed a few things, and want to ask you some questions to ponder for each reading while you listen:

Zechariah speaks to “prisoners of hope.” What do you suppose that means, to be a prisoner of hope? Where do you find the sort of hope to which you’d want to be a prisoner?

In Romans, Paul talks frankly about his captivity to his own bad decisions and judgment. “What’s wrong with me?” he asks. “I do not do the good I want, but the very evil I do not want is what I do.” Oh brother, I can relate! Why is that we struggle so much to get out from the burden of our poor choices?

And finally in the Gospel, Jesus will use the image of a yoke, presenting it as an image of comfort, as he calls upon us to take on his yoke, which is “easy” or light. How does it feel to celebrate freedom, even as we are yoked to Jesus?

Maybe you’ll hear other echoes of freedom in these texts. Listen carefully, to what God is saying to you this day.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

In general, when it comes to preaching, I try to follow the advice of theologian Karl Barth: preach with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. Sometimes that means I venture into topics people might call “political,” but I work pretty hard at not being partisan, and I always strive to preach the gospel. Sometimes, frankly, speaking a word of Gospel to a current reality, even a political reality, is called for. What’s the point of the gospel if it is disconnected from our lives, if it doesn’t help us make sense of what is going on in the world around us? We are not, after all, Christian or the Church in a vacuum! 

This weekend, as America celebrates our semiquincentennial, I think it feels appropriate to lean a little

more into our identity as both Americans and Christians. Now, don’t worry, I’m still not planning to be political or partisan (I promise you, I will always preach the gospel!). But I do want to talk today about a foundational value for both Christians and Americans: freedom. As I said in my introduction, I find in today’s texts many points that draw me into thinking about freedom – in this case, not American freedom, but our Christian freedom. The two are sometimes conflated, and increasingly so as many in the upper levels of government would like to see America be a Christian nation, never mind what our first amendment guarantees for people of all faith traditions. But while there are certainly shared values and some harmony between American ideals and Christian ideals, American freedom and Christian freedom are also quite different. 

American freedom allows us to do, say, and believe whatever we want. And there is a sense of autonomy that goes with that, of rugged individualism, of personal work ethic: if you want to succeed, and you work hard, you will succeed! That’s the American dream!

Christian freedom, on the other hand, looks beyond our own desires. It compels us to use our personal freedoms not to serve ourselves, but to serve one another. As Christians, we believe not so much in the power of the individual, since we are all, as we say, “captive to sin and cannot free ourselves”; rather, we believe in the power of Christ, who has taken away the burden of sin, so that it no longer has such power over us. Because of Christ, our freedom looks instead like the ability to freely love and serve God and neighbor. That is: our freedom is not, ultimately, for us, but for our neighbor. (Of course, in some cases, our American freedom compels us to this, as well – we see it in military service members willing to give their lives for others, and in public servants and first responders, and activists who stand up for principles that will lead to liberty and justice for all, not just themselves. But I would argue that while American freedom sometimes is used for the benefit of others, Christian freedom always is.)

While this idea of freedom for others is hopeful and worthy of gratitude, today’s text from Romans shows us that this freedom business is also incredibly difficult – because even as we know what God desires from us and for us, it isn’t so easy to follow through. Paul offers this startling confession: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”

That is the difficulty with freedom, right? As well-intentioned as we may be, and even as certain as we may be at any given time about the rightness of our decisions, it seems too often that we end up doing the wrong thing. How many times have you said something like, “I shouldn’t say this, or do this, but….” Because, as Paul says, sin is constantly lurking at the door, just waiting for us, in all our freedom, to slip up a little bit so that sin can creep in there and take over our better judgment. “I know I shouldn’t, but…” is a constant refrain in our lives. 

“I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” The first time I heard, really heard these words, I felt an immediate kinship with Paul. He suddenly became a real person to me, not just some writer and scholar from long ago. I realized: he struggled, too. This important man, with many churches named for him, including this one, whose writings made it into the Bible – even he struggled with sin, struggled to avoid doing things he knew were the wrong things to do. Turns out, we are all together in this human condition, where we mean well, but end up doing the very thing we know we shouldn’t. It happens in the highest levels of government and the Church, and it happens in our daily lives.

Even as misery enjoys company, though, we cannot stay there – and Paul doesn’t. Just when we start to feel that there is no hope, that our Christian or American freedom will only get us into trouble because as willing as our hearts may be, our flesh is too darn weak to uphold God’s law… Paul looks outward. “Wretched man that I am!” he exclaims. “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” We are not left on our own. We have the great gift of knowing that Jesus has our backs in this. As much as we love our American freedom, even the brilliance of the founding fathers could not guarantee that.

Anne Lamott, in her book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, reflects on the growth and wisdom she has experienced in her life. She goes on for some pages about everything she has learned and gained through the various trials and stages of her life. She also comments, however, that she is not thrilled with what age and gravity have done to her body. In her wry, raw way, she writes, “Left to my own devices, would I trade all [that I have gained] for firm thighs, fewer wrinkles, a better memory? You bet I would. That is why it’s such a blessing that I am not left to my own devices.” Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

And this brings us to Jesus’ wonderful words of comfort in our Gospel lesson, which are an assurance that we will never be left to our own devices, left to fend for ourselves, left always to do the right thing with the freedom we have been given, even as sin is lurking close at hand. Jesus says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you…” I used to think that taking Jesus’ yoke upon me was something like taking up Jesus’ cross – that is, taking on a burden, perhaps the burden of seeking justice in the world, or fixing all the broken systems, or feeding the hungry, with us pulling the load and Christ as the driver. But the thing about a yoke is that it is not for one animal. It is for two, two animals who are bound together to walk side-by-side and be a more powerful team than one can be alone. So when Christ bids us take his yoke upon us, he means that we should come and be yoked with him, bound together side-by-side – so that suddenly our personal burden no longer feels quite so heavy, because we bear it with Christ. Our freedom, which so often leads us into sin, is no longer about our individual abilities or effort, nor is it about our downfall, because we make decisions with Christ by our side, bearing some of the weight. 

It is not only our personal burdens that are carried in this way. Under Christ’s yoke, we are prepared to bear the burdens of the world, even those we feel so heavily right now, and perhaps especially as we celebrate our Semiquincentennial. I love my country, and I cry with pride nearly every time I sing our National Anthem... and at the same time, there is much in our country to grieve right now. And so, with our God-given freedom for service, and with the strength of Christ and his yoke on our team, we do the hard work that we are called to do: standing up to the oppressor, seeking justice for the needy, showing mercy and compassion to those who are suffering, working toward a more perfect union. These are what our Christian freedom compels us to do, and now we are given the promise that we need not bear the burden of those tasks alone. 

Freedom is a wonderful, beautiful thing, a gift worth celebrating, that has come to us by the grace of God through Jesus Christ. And, it can also be a burden, as we don’t always use it wisely, for the building up of others, but rather, we use it for our own self-promotion or self-preservation. Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord that we are not left to our own devices in this world, but rather are given the gift of Jesus’ own yoke, and the knowledge of God’s strength in carrying the burden of this world. May we use this gift for the benefit of our neighbor.

Let us pray… We give you thanks, O Lord, for our freedom. But even more we give you thanks that even in that freedom, we are not left to our own devices, but are always accompanied by the gentle, humble yoke of your Son. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: The difficult path to peace (June 21, 2026)

Pentecost 3A
June 21, 2026
Romans 6:1b-11
Matthew 10:24-39

INTRODUCTION

Warning: this week’s texts are… difficult. 

Jeremiah starts us off by lamenting the difficulty of his call as a prophet. He is laughed at, mocked, and reproached all day long, he says, and whenever he wants to give up, saying, “Forget it, God! You’re on your own!” it feels like a fire is in his bones. He must do the Lord’s work. But all the while, he knows, God is with him “like a terrifying warrior,” so he knows the enemy will not win. 

In Romans, Paul will simultaneously convict us and lift us up, telling us that just because we have God’s grace does not mean we get to “let sin abound.” His phrase, “By no means!” is an emphatic one (I imagine an inflection of, “Come on, what are you thinking??”). Our Gospel reading is the continuation of last week’s speech to those Jesus is sending out, with continued warnings about the violence and division that may happen as a result of this mission. “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” he says. The text comes off as sort of piecemeal, like an unrelated collection of sayings of Jesus that Matthew has cobbled together… which almost makes the warnings even more jarring to take in.

So no, today’s texts are not easy, but they do also offer plenty of hope. As you listen today, listen for that hope. Hear the difficulty that comes with a genuine life of faith, but listen to the ways that God provides in that journey. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Happy Father’s Day, huh?

There are a lot of difficult words in this Gospel text, but the ones that trouble me the most are these: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” They are troubling for many reasons, but one of the big ones is that this seems so contrary to what Jesus says and who he says he is elsewhere in the Bible! Remember the angel choir singing, “Peace on earth, good will to all” to announce Jesus’ birth? Just a few chapters before this in Matthew, Jesus preached from a mount, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.” When Jesus is arrested in the garden before his crucifixion, one of his disciples draws a sword to defend him and Jesus says, “Put your sword away. For those who take the sword will die by the sword.” So, what gives, Jesus? Why change your tune here?

Well part of this has to do with context, that is, the context of Matthew’s audience. First of all, those first converts to Christianity may very well have faced severe religious persecution, often at the hands of family members (which accounts for all that stuff about families turning against each other). In 21st century America, expressly defined as a land of religious freedom, Christians don’t face such extreme persecution – though other religions, such as Islam and Judaism, certainly face discrimination and violence. But for Matthew’s audience, Christian persecution was the norm, and his audience likely would have taken comfort in these words from Jesus, because he is letting them know that he sees them in their suffering, and they are not alone in feeling the way they do. (This is one of this times when the text is descriptive of a reality, rather than instructive for how things ought to be.)

Second, I don’t take Jesus’ words about peace and the sword to be a forever statement. Rather, he is saying, “Peace won’t come right away. The way to get to peace must first go through disruption and conflict.”

And this I find highly relevant today, because it is very consistent with my experience of finding peace in personal relationships. For example, how many of you have ever known that there is a difficult conversation you need to have – with a family member, a spouse, a co-worker, a child – and you are dreading it because it is so fraught, and you know it may not go smoothly, so you just put it off as long as possible, perhaps never even getting to it? I’m talking about those big, “Something’s got to give, because I cannot take anymore the way things are going,” sorts of conversations. And tell me, when that happens, when you “keep the peace” by staying silent, do things get better? Not typically! They build and build until finally we are hurling insults, or gossiping, or we take on self-medicating habits, or we develop physical ailments caused by the increased stress we are carrying… or sometimes, even worse. Soon enough, that “peace” we were hoping to maintain is exactly what is destroying our life – in some cases both our bodies and our souls.

And so, Jesus urges us not to hold it in. “Nothing is covered that will not be uncovered,” he warns, “and nothing is secret that will not become known.” Maybe we can keep things hidden for a while from the people around us (although those things we harbor do have a tendency to find their way out somehow, even if sideways), but nothing is hidden from God, who knows our hearts through and through. When we can have those difficult conversations, in loving and logical ways, rather than highly emotional and hurtful ways, it may feel very much like conflict in the moment, like a sword that further divides us from one another. (That is often our fear, anyway, right? That bringing it up will only make it worse?) 

But ultimately addressing a conflict will bring lightness, and peace – if not with the person in question, then at least with God. No one was ever helped or healed by holding onto their pain or grudge; indeed that can only serve as a barrier both in our relationships with each other and our relationship with God. And so, Jesus urges us not to sit on it forever, but to bring it into the open, where healing and restoration can happen.

I think Jesus does speak to our personal and intimate relationships in this text, but I also think he is speaking to a broader pursuit of justice. Remember the context of this discourse: he is sending the apostles out to proclaim that the kingdom of heaven is near, that an age is near in which justice rules and everyone has what they need, and everyone is in right relationship with God. He is asking them to proclaim this into a cultural context in which that is decidedly not the case, in which death-dealing forces threaten God’s people every day. At the time, that force was primarily the Roman Empire; today I’d argue that we have an assortment of different forces and various “-isms,” policies, and unjust structures that keep us as a society from living in the ways of God’s kingdom. And when those “powers that be” are threatened, when the status quo is disrupted, you’d better believe there will be push-back. There will be a sword before there is peace!

Jesus anticipates this, names it, and normalizes it. We often take that last line of today’s reading, about “taking up your cross” and following Jesus as a spiritual one, as if to say, “Bear your suffering, and keep the faith.” But the cross, remember, was an instrument of the Empire, a means of torture to keep people in line. Seen that way, Jesus’ statement is quite a political one as well! In this context is means more like, “Don’t be intimidated by this oppressive force that would try to keep things just the way they are, this way that does not allow for kingdom living. They can and may give us the cross, but they cannot stop God’s kingdom from coming, and they cannot stop us from proclaiming it. And yes, they may kill your body, but they cannot kill your soul, for that belongs to God. So follow me, and keep right on proclaiming God’s kingdom of love and justice, and know as you do that this God of love cares for you and every single hair on your head.”

And on this point, I find both comfort and conviction in our reading from Romans. “Shall we keep on living in sin, so we can keep receiving God’s grace?” Paul asks. “Heck no!” When we know better, we do better. We were baptized into Christ’s death, he says, but that also means we were baptized into his life. In other words, we have all lived in sinful ways: we have held grudges and withheld forgiveness, we have said cruel things, we have sought our own comfort and priorities, we have tolerated and upheld unjust structures because they either don’t negatively affect us, or they even benefit us. Those sins lead to death – death of the body and of the soul. But because we were also baptized into Christ’s resurrection, that sinfulness and death are not the end. We have been brought into newness of life. That new life isn’t always easier – it may require us to have those difficult conversations, or stand up against injustice. We may put ourselves at risk, or upset people we love, by doing this kingdom work. It may even feel like a sword at times. Yet we can trust that because we died with Christ in baptism, we also live with him, and that newness of life will, ultimately, lead to lasting, active peace.

Let us pray… God of justice, we long for your peace right now, but we also know that sometimes the way to peace is difficult. Give us courage to pursue it, in our personal relationships and as a society, so that we can proclaim the nearness of your kingdom. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: The Motley Church (June 14, 2026)

Pentecost 3A
June 14, 2026
Matthew 9:35—10:23

INTRODUCTION

Through the summer, we will be making our way through the Gospel of Matthew, hearing stories of Jesus’ daily ministry and teaching. Matthew was highly organized in his construction of his Gospel, organizing it around five major discourses (a sort of mirror to the five books of Moses, the Torah, the first five books of the Bible). Today we will hear part of his second discourse, known as the “missionary discourse.” Having established his twelve disciples, he is now laying out their job description, and telling them what it will mean for them to proclaim the kingdom of God. 

Over the next weeks we will also be hearing from the book of Romans, and today is one of my favorite passages, as Paul outlines how we move from suffering to hope. Do not hear this as instructive (as in, you must suffer in order to achieve character, endurance, etc.), but rather as an observation that it is often through inevitable suffering that we find our way to hope in God.

Both of these texts deal with the suffering that sometimes happens when we strive to live faithfully. As you listen, consider a time when faithful living has been a challenge for you and why. What can God’s good word provide for you today? Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

True confession time: when I’m reading the Bible, I often skip over lists of names and places. I’m bad with remembering proper nouns, so unless I have a specific piece of information I need, I’d rather just skip the list and focus on the story. In fact, assuming others might be similar, I considered cutting the list of names of the 12 apostles from today’s Gospel reading, so that we could all focus on the richness of the rest of this text. 

Well, I’m glad I didn’t, because apparently the Holy Spirit wanted instead for me to preach on these four verses listing the names of the twelve! Funny, funny Spirit, right?

The question that came to my mind about this list was, why these 12 people? Because when you don’t skip over the list like I usually do, and you learn a bit about the people, you start to wonder what Jesus was thinking, calling these guys. Let’s learn a bit about them.

The list begins with Peter. Peter is no one special. He’s a fisherman, overly eager to please, and frequently puts his foot in his mouth. He famously denies Jesus three times in Jesus’ hour of need. But, he is also willing, and faithful, and when the Spirit rushed into the Church on Pentecost, he was the one who seized the moment and jumped up to start preaching and spreading the good news. A bit of recklessness combined with openness to the Spirit can sometimes be just what you need on a ministry team.

The list ends with Judas, who we are told up front will betray Jesus. I dunno, I think Judas is more complicated than we usually allow. I think it’s possible he misunderstood Jesus’ mission, and perhaps he turned Jesus over because he thought it would promote the cause. After things go south, he takes his own life, realizing what a mistake he’s made. Sometimes we have people in our own ministry like this – well-meaning, but going about things in the wrong way, and really mess things up. And sometimes, God uses that mess-up to bring about new life. Ya never know! Sometimes you need someone on the team who makes the wrong choice, because it helps clarify the path to new life.

Moving to the other ten disciples, several of them are fishermen, who were uneducated and unremarkable. This profession, though essential to the economy, was near the bottom of the social hierarchy. Perhaps a modern equivalent would be the essential workers we don’t notice, but on whom our economy and societal functioning depend. James and John are particularly worth highlighting, because they had notoriously fiery tempers and were insensitive and volatile (once asking if they could set a whole town on fire). This earned them the nickname, “Sons of Thunder.” Not who I would choose to lead a religious movement, but Jesus saw a place for them; they were among the very first called. 

There are also some more obscure names on the list of Jesus’ chosen 12 – the type who may have gifts, but no credentials or notoriety. Philip was what you could call an early adopter and a connecter. As soon as Jesus calls him, right at the beginning of his ministry, Philip’s first move is to invite Nathanael as well, urging him to, “Come and see.” Some scholars believe Nathanael is also called Bartholomew, who is listed here in Matthew. His claim to be fame is being a bit of a cynic, asking, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” And yet when Jesus meets him, he praises Bart’s integrity, saying, “Here is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” So, he’s the guy who just says it like it is. Both of these are useful to have on a ministry team: the connector and organizer who is willing to try things and invite people along, and the guy who takes a bit more convincing.

Speaking of guys like that, the next one on the list is Thomas, known for doubting Jesus’ resurrection. But Thomas was much more than a doubter. His faith was deep. He was willing to follow Jesus to Jerusalem even if it meant he would die with him. On Jesus’ last night, he asked how they could get to where Jesus was going. And he declared, “My Lord and my God!” in an expression of deep faith upon seeing Jesus again. Compared to Peter, who jumps in without knowing what is next, Thomas is someone willing to ask the tough questions and seek deeper understanding before committing. He’s someone you’d want on your team, someone who may slow things down, but his presence and questions mean all the bases get covered.

James and Thaddaeus are next, and I’ll be honest, I could not find much interesting about them, as their only biblical mentions are on lists. James may have been Matthew’s brother, or maybe Jesus’s brother. Thaddaeus appears to also have been called Jude, who authored the short letter tucked in the Bible before Revelation. That makes him more educated than some – it’s always good to have a writer on the team!

Matthew, on the other hand, we do know something about. He was a tax collector, one of the most corrupt and despised professions in 1st century Palestine. Tax collectors collaborated with the Roman government that was occupying Israel. This had to be incredibly unsettling for the other disciples, as well as the population they were trying to reach, because Matthew, as a tax collector, was like, public enemy #1. But Matthew proved a faithful disciple who went on to author one of the canonical Gospels, which is pretty cool! Also worth mentioning: while autism is not discussed in the Bible by name, the TV series The Chosen made the artistic choice to portray Matthew as autistic, citing his meticulous, numbers-driven mind as a tax collector, and his highly structured, organized, and fact-focused Gospel. There’s no way to know for sure if Matthew was in fact neurodiverse, but I love the idea that Jesus would hand select a neurodiverse person to be on his ministry team, because representation matters, and because, as someone who is married to and works with neurodiverse people, I know what incredible gifts they bring to a team! 

Now let’s add a bit more spice: Jesus also called Simon the Cananaean, more commonly called Simon the Zealot. Zealots were a Jewish sect known for their uncompromising opposition to Rome. They were an aggressive political party who had no time even for Jews who sought to live peacefully with the Roman authorities. Extremist Zealots could be quite violent, engaging in acts of terrorism. Now for fun: who thinks we should put Simon the Zealot and Matthew the Roman collaborator on the same subcommittee? Anyone? Maybe add in the Sons of Thunder for good measure? Right??

So, there we have it. We’ve got violent protestors alongside corrupt government officials, community organizers working with skeptics, the eager-to-please with the volatile and insensitive, and the uneducated and poorly regarded with the highly educated professionals. These are Jesus’ hand-picked twelve, his closest circle, his ministry team of choice. This is the team Jesus determines is best suited to proclaim that the kingdom of heaven has come near, to heal the sick and to bring peace and compassion to those who are harassed and like sheep without a shepherd. In the next part of the discourse, he asks them to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves, to be brave and calm in the face of persecution and possible violence (I’m looking at you, Sons of Thunder and Simon the Zealot!). He asks them to let God speak through them (ahem, Peter). And he tells them to be quick about it (so, not too many questions, Tom and Bart!). 

All different skills and gifts and interests. And yet, joined together for a single cause: to proclaim that the kingdom of heaven has come near. To preach a God of love, compassion and care, to make space for all of God’s children to have their physical, emotional, and spiritual needs met.

This is an important reminder for us, as the 21st century Church, for we are as motley a crew as those first-called disciples. We are opinionated and short-tempered; we ask too many questions and don’t get anything done; we speak out of turn, and say too much or too little; we make colossal mistakes (that God often uses for good); we misunderstand situations and act on the wrong instincts; we have brains that are wired differently from each other and see things through completely different lenses. We feel uneasy around each other, and get annoyed with each other, and roll our eyes at each other and accuse each other. We are the Church together.

And somehow, it works. God makes it work. Because if God could use the likes of those twelve – and not only use, but hand-pick – to proclaim the kingdom of heaven, then what’s to keep God from using our various gifts and foibles for doing the same in Pittsford, NY? God has a unified mission for us, too, with all our differences and commonalities. And if we all move together in that direction, fulfilling God’s mission, then the differences are no longer a barrier; they are a boon.

So: which disciple are you? How is God using your gifts and your short-comings to proclaim the kingdom? How is God using you to bring the kingdom of heaven to this time and community? I can’t wait to see.

Let us pray… Jesus, if we’re honest, we don’t always agree with your decisions. We would have done it differently. Help us to trust that you know just how to use each of us, and then to work together to bring about your kingdom. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Sermon: The Spirit of experimentation (May 24, 2026)

Pentecost A
May 24, 2026
Acts 2:1-21; 1 Cor 12:3b-13; John 20:19-23

INTRODUCTION

Today, on Pentecost, we celebrate the Holy Spirit. I love all three persons of the Trinity, of course, but I do find the Holy Spirit particularly intriguing, because there are so many facets and expressions of the Spirit, so there is always some aspect of the Spirit that can speak to us just exactly where we are. 

Our readings today reflect that variety. Our first reading from Acts is that dramatic first Pentecost, as Luke tells it. Jews from around the known world are staying in Jerusalem and celebrating the Jewish Festival of Weeks (aka Pentecost): a harvest festival where Jews also celebrate the giving of the law, the 10 Commandments. And the Holy Spirit makes a raucous entrance, complete with wind, noise and fire. Very exciting! 

The Psalm shows us the creative nature of the Spirit, recalling how at creation, before God said anything, the Spirit hovered over the chaotic waters. 

1st Corinthians addresses the unifying nature of the Spirit – though there are varieties of gifts, Paul writes, we are all one in the Spirit, “for in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body.” 

And finally in the Gospel reading, we will hear a story we always hear the week after Easter, about Jesus appearing to the fearful disciples who are locked in the upper room. Jesus breathes his Spirit onto them and tells them, twice, “Peace be with you.”

So… which expression of the Spirit do you need today? The disruptive and driving one of that first Pentecost, or the creative one of the Psalm? The unifying Spirit of 1st Corinthians, or the Spirit of peace breathed into a place of fear? As you listen, hear the promise that whatever you need this day, the Spirit is with you. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

The Holy Spirit, window at Taize, France

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

This coming week, Deacon Emily, Sue, Bryn, and I will be traveling to Syracuse for the annual Upstate NY Synod Assembly. The event will introduce our synod’s theme and focus for the year, which will be… “Experimentation.” 

I’m curious: what feelings come up for you when I say that word, “experimentation”? Do you feel excited? Curious? Fearful? Tired? 

I think I feel a mixture. When I’m feeling grounded and ready and secure, experimentation sounds exciting. Yeah, let’s bring on something new! Let’s try something! But then I start actually working on the thing, and the fear creeps in. What if this doesn’t work? What if we waste time and resources trying it? What if I look like a fool because this fails? What if people judge me for it, or think less of me, because I didn’t do a good enough job? What if they roll their eyes, and lose trust in my abilities? Or even, what if it does work, but then that means we have to let go of the former way, a way which may not have been working but which I did still like, and now the loss of it makes me sad? 

And then from there, I easily move into tired: Man, this is a lot of work. I liked the old way, where we already had grooves in the road and systems in place and I didn’t have to think about it. Sigh. Maybe we should just keep things the same. The well-trodden road is a lot easier than experimenting with something new.

Sound familiar?

I serve on a board for a non-profit that is currently navigating a significant change in leadership. The person we are hoping will lead us may require some accommodations, in the form of significantly restructuring our routine and way of operating. At our board meeting this past week, we were wrestling with how this might look, and how it will be received by members of the organization, and someone observed, “Well, we were already considering a possible change in structure. Maybe this is the kick we needed.” Indeed – we are often so resistant to change and experimentation, that sometimes what is needed to make that leap for a necessary change is a major and unavoidable disruption that shakes us out of the status quo. 

Sometimes, the Holy Spirit is such a disruption. It certainly was on that first Pentecost! The image we see of the Holy Spirit in this story from Acts portrays the Holy Spirit as empowering, enabling, dramatic, exciting, perplexing, giver of prophecy – all very strong, active, and dare I say, disruptive images. Though the Spirit can certainly be a comforter – an image we have seen in our readings for the past few weeks, the Spirit is also decidedly a mover and shaker! 

Professor and preacher David Lose takes issue with thinking about the Spirit as one whose primary role is as the Comforter. “I think we’ve misnamed the Holy Spirit,” he writes. “The Holy Spirit is as much agitator as advocate, as much provocateur as comforter… [We mustn’t] reduce the work of the Holy Spirit to making us feel better… [The] one who comes alongside might also do so to strengthen you for work, or to muster your courage, or to prompt or even provoke you to action.” In other words, the Holy Spirit may come alongside you and take you by the hand… but then pull you somewhere you wouldn’t otherwise have gone, or drag you into something you don’t think you can do! Just look at Peter, the man who constantly puts his foot in his mouth, jumping up to preach a moving sermon that inspires 3000 people to be baptized that very day! Like, where has that Peter been hiding??

Of course, exciting as this is, such disruption and experimentation can get scary and dangerous for us in a hurry! To be comforted, to have our hand held, to be helped by the Holy Spirit all sounds very nice, but it also gives the impression that we don’t need to do anything differently. As if the Advocate is here to argue the case for me to stay just as I am! But sometimes our best advocates and helpers are that precisely because they don’t just hold our hand and let us stay put, but rather, they encourage and embolden and push us into new opportunities we would never have sought out on our own. In other words, the Holy Spirit drives or pulls or pushes or compels us into experimentation.

And yes, that word still does bring up all kinds of feelings, many of them connected to fear. And so to that end, the other images we see for the Spirit today can help us along our journey into new territory. In the Psalm, the Spirit is creative and renewing, calling things into existence that didn’t exist before. That’s what experimentation is all about – calling new things into existence! In Corinthians, we hear of a Spirit who equips us as individuals and as the body of Christ with a variety of gifts, the very gifts we need in order to fulfill our mission as the Church of Christ, even in new endeavors. And then finally in John we hear about the Holy Spirit as a bringer of peace, even and especially into times of anxiety and fear. All of these are images that support and encourage the Church to be a place of experimentation: a place where God brings about new things, where God equips us with the gifts we need, where God breathes the breath of peace into all the fear and anxiety we experience when things are changing, perhaps at times before we are fully ready for it.

Earlier this year, St. Paul’s, with the Spirit’s guidance, called Deacon Emily to serve among us, charging her with helping us figure out where and how God is calling us to serve in potentially new and different ways in our community. We asked her to get to know us and our passions, and get to know our community, and to figure out how the Spirit might be connecting our passions to the community’s needs in ways we haven’t yet discovered, and to keep us listening for God’s voice through it all. For our part, we committed to being open to how the Spirit is moving among us, to experiment, to step out in faith, so that we might become a church on fire with the love and passion of the Spirit and the desire to serve the world. My friends, this is something that Deacon Emily cannot do on her own – it is work for the whole Body of Christ, because as Paul writes, “the body does not exist of one member, but of many… You are the body of Christ, and individually members of it.” We are in this thing, together, called by the one Spirit, to serve the world in ever new and surprising ways.

We will have some opportunities for experimentation coming up, chances for you to do something perhaps out of your routine or comfort zone, so that we can see where the Spirit might be drawing us. There will be Cottage Meetings this summer, a chance to talk about your passions and needs with fellow members of St. Paul’s. We will be trying some things in worship – every 3rd Sunday this summer we will be incorporating some elements of contemporary worship into our Sunday gatherings. Deacon Emily and I will be inviting you into a time of weekly prayer together, either in person here with us, or at the same time from wherever you happen to be. In the fall, we’ll be exploring God’s Word together in a program called Story Matters. By this time next year, we will be coming to you to discuss a new mission statement, one that will aim to capture where we are right now as a congregation, and what particular gifts the Spirit has given us to serve in this time and place. 

Yes, the Spirit is already busy at St. Paul’s, and will continue to be so! Through this time of exploration and experimentation – and yes, disruption – my prayer is that we will be willing participants in whatever God is up to in this place. That we will look at the ways the Spirit is disrupting our status quo, and be willing to go along for the ride, rather than clinging to our grooves. That we would be open to trying something new, even something that is out of our comfort zone. I know that this work can be scary and tiring; but I also know that it is life-giving, and that the Holy Spirit will be with us in every breath and every step.

Let us pray… Holy Spirit, you are always disrupting us and calling us places we wouldn’t have considered on our own. Open us up to new possibilities, and make us willing to experiment, to try, to sometimes fail, and always to trust that you are here for it. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: How can we know God? (May 17, 2026)

Easter 7A
May 17, 2026
John 17:1-11

INTRODUCTION

This is the final Sunday of the Easter season, a season which lasts as long as Jesus walked the earth after his resurrection (40 days), plus the 10 days between his ascension into heaven and the coming of the Holy Spirit – fifty days total. So, at this point in the biblical narrative, we find ourselves in the 10 days between, this liminal time between when Jesus has left the disciples (again) and the arrival of this great gift he has assured them is coming “in just a few days.” I think remembering the context of this “in-between” place can help us to hear today’s readings. 

First, we will hear the story of Jesus’ ascension into heaven as told in Acts. Ascension Day is 40 days after Easter, so, always a Thursday, but the lectionary gives us a taste of the story today, too. The Acts version of this story (compared to the version in Luke) tells us about what the disciples did while they waited for the Holy Spirit that Jesus had promised them just before he ascended into heaven. Our second reading from 1st Peter will speak to the suffering that is all too real – often, but perhaps especially during this liminal waiting time the disciples are feeling. 

And then in our Gospel reading, we hear the end of Jesus’ Farewell Discourse on Maundy Thursday: the High Priestly Prayer. This is a remarkable moment in which the disciples – and we, by extension – get to eavesdrop on an intimate moment between Jesus and his Father. And he uses this moment to pray for us! So enter into that prayer with him. Enter also into the anxiety of the disciples during this in-between time. And of course, enter into the love Jesus has for us. Let’s listen.

[READ]

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

“Eternal life.” It’s a phrase we use so often in the church. We know it is a good thing, a thing that we want, but… what exactly is it? 

Probably what comes immediately to mind is… heaven. And who hasn’t wondered what heaven is like?! 

But here, in today’s Gospel reading, in Jesus’ high priestly prayer with his disciples, his last words with and to them… Jesus tells us clearly what exactly eternal life is. Did you catch it? He says, “And this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.”

Did that clear it up for you?

I still have so many questions.

But at least we have something to start with. So, the first thing I notice about this description is that it seems to be talking not about some afterlife in some heaven far away, but rather about right here, right now. Throughout John’s Gospel, he has been telling us that the Word (Jesus) became flesh and came to earth out of love for the world, and that he came so that we would have life, and have it abundantly. He has said that life comes from having a relationship with Jesus, from abiding with Jesus. And here he hits home the point: eternal life means knowing God, knowing Jesus: not later, but right now, on earth.

So how do we come to know God, to know Jesus? How do we have a relationship with the One who is both all-knowing, and unknowable?

Big questions for a Sunday morning, right? So let’s think in more concrete terms. Think about your most important human relationships with people beyond your family of origin. What has forged and deepened those relationships? Real question, I want to hear from you: what are some ways you deepen relationships with humans? How do you get to know them?

[Spend time together, talk and listen, listen to their history/story, going through tough times together, seeing each other in vulnerable situations]

Okay, good, so let’s think about how those same things might happen with God.

Number one way to get to know someone, right, is to spend time together. That’s easy to imagine with a flesh-and-blood relationship. It’s an accessible option for the disciples who knew the incarnate God, Jesus. For us, we believe God is with us always, but not in such concrete ways. So, the first thing we need to do to spend time with God is to notice that God is there at all, and how. This can happen in prayer, in nature, in laughter, on the water, in a hug… and I believe God is all those places. But, I admit I don’t always notice and articulate it in the moment. And if I don’t articulate it, I am likely to leave God standing alone in a corner while I talk to my other friends, those whom I can see and easily notice.

To that end, I’ve been trying a new prayer discipline this month, in which I start the day by asking God not only to show up, but also to open my eyes to see it happen. Halfway through the day, I stop again to pray, that God would refocus me on this task (because Lord knows, I get distracted!). And then at the end of the day, I do what is called the Examen, an Ignatian practice in which you reflect back on your day and notice when you heard or felt God present (and give thanks), and also when you may have sinned during the day (and ask forgiveness). (And by the way, before you give me too much credit for my discipline, this is all through an app that reminds me to do each of these and leads me through them!) I do not do it perfectly each time, but little by little, with God’s help, I am training myself and strengthening my spiritual vision, to notice God, so that when I am spending time with God, I don’t miss it!

Second important way to get to know someone with whom you want to be in relationship: have a conversation, one in which one person does not do all the talking. If you are like me, your prayer time is often a one-way street, one where you are doing most of the talking, and maybe hoping and expecting God to do your bidding. Thinking about your human relationships, how would this approach to friendship fly? It makes me think of the woman at a book launch party. She met the author, and all he could do was talk about himself and his book. On and on he went, never asking her a single question, talking about himself. Finally, he seemed to come to his senses, and said to the woman, “I’ve been doing all the talking! Enough about me. What did you think about my book?” 

It's funny because we have all met (and rolled our eyes about) people like that. And yet, that is so often how I engage with God: talking, talking, talking, then asking God to tell me – more about myself. That’s not how relationships are deepened. If we want to know God, we need to give God a chance to do the talking sometimes.

How do we do that? Partly it is simply being quiet, perhaps in meditation (something extremely challenging for an extrovert like myself!). But we also have a really great resource for listening to God’s words, something we even go so far as to call “God’s Word”: the Bible! Here we have a collection of ways God has spoken through history to God’s people, and how they have talked to God. We understand this to be the living Word of God, meaning it was not written for one time and place, but that it speaks to all people across time, however is needed. Through scripture, we also get to hear some of the history of God’s action – because another important part of getting to know someone is to learn their history and the stories that have most shaped them. Here in scripture, we can learn this about God. What a great idea!

I don’t mean to be flippant about it. I know that the Bible can also be really difficult to read on our own. It can feel too far removed from our current realities. It can be hard to decipher what’s going on, hard to picture. I have three degrees in religion, and literally spend my work days studying and writing about it, and I still struggle at times. If you read my sermon notes, they are full of questions like, “What is this supposed to mean?” A study Bible helps. Numerous commentaries help. Conversations with other faithful people helps, a lot. But sometimes all that feels way too daunting, and we are already such busy people, so who has time to look up a commentary when we’re trying to get to know God here!

Of course, I feel that way sometimes in human relationships, too. And that is part of the joy! My best and deepest relationships are the ones that not only offer love and support, but that also challenge me, that help me think differently about something, that push me to be a better version of myself. 

So how can we let scripture do this for us, when it can truly be so hard to grasp? Here’s my recommendation: start by simply reading all the way through one of the Gospels. Then another one. Or, read the Psalms, which are the prayers of the faithful over many generations. You don’t need to start with, you know, Leviticus or 2nd Chronicles or something – that’s setting yourself up for failure. Start with what already feels accessible, and branch out from there.

Then when you read, find one word or phrase that captures your attention or imagination, and dwell on that for a while. Don’t get caught up in the weeds of details you don’t understand. Write down that word or phrase and look at it periodically through the day or week. Maybe doodle around it over breakfast, or put it on your mirror. Or, write down one question you have of the text. It could be, “Why did Jesus say that?” or, “How would it feel to have God say that to me?” or, “I wonder how it smelled at this event?” Give yourself a moment to dwell in the questions, without needing to know the answers. 

Even better, think of someone else, maybe someone in this congregation, who can commit to doing this with you, and you can text each other each day what verse you are looking at. Or call each other on the way home from work. Because in my experience, talking about God’s Word in community is the best way of all to hear God’s voice.

All this might not make a difference for you right away, I admit. I also don’t become close friends with someone after a single meeting. But I assure you that over time, you will come to know God, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom God has sent. Your relationship with God will deepen. You will abide with Jesus, and he with you. And by this, you will experience eternal life, the life that comes from being connected to the one true God, whose deepest desire is that we would have life, and have it abundantly – not only later, but right here and now. 

Let us pray… Holy Father, you sent Jesus so that we would come to know you, and by that relationship, to have eternal life. Open our eyes to notice when you are near. Open our ears to hear your word. Open our hearts to gather with your people, so that together we can draw closer to you in relationship. And all this for your love’s sake. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.