Sermon: Peter and Jesus on the water (August 9, 2026)

Pentecost 11A
August 9, 2026
Matthew 14:22-33

INTRODUCTION

We get two famous stories today: Elijah and what is sometimes called the “still small voice,” and Jesus walking on water. Here is their larger context:

Elijah is a prophet, which is not an easy job because you have to tell difficult truths to powerful people who, turns out, don’t like having their power questioned. This is what he has been doing to King Ahab and his wife Jezebel, telling them they are worshiping false gods, and oopsies, he also just killed a bunch of prophets of Ba-al (the false god). Jezebel is especially angry, and has sent her people out to hunt down Elijah and kill him. Elijah, who has tried to be faithful, is at his wits’ end. He heads off to Mount Horeb, ready to give up. In today’s reading, an exhausted Elijah tells God, “I just can’t do this anymore.” And God shows up for him, listens, and tells him, “Okay, I hear you. Let’s have you pass the torch to new leadership.” 

The Gospel reading features a literal storm, but it also feels metaphorical for anyone who has felt like they are drowning and losing faith. The story by itself is meaningful and powerful, but let’s look more at what sort of space Jesus is in here: just before this, Jesus has been rejected in his hometown, he has learned his relative John the Baptist has been killed by King Herod in the most degrading way possible, and when he tries to get some time alone to process everything, crowds find him, and he is called upon to feed them – 5000 of them. Finally, he makes his disciples go ahead of him so he can finally get some much-needed “Me Time,” but soon enough, a storm hits the disciples’ boat, and once again, Jesus shows up – walking on the water of all things! – and takes care of it.

Both stories may feel fantastic and far removed, but the themes are very relatable. We have all felt these feelings: we’ve been overwhelmed, stressed, grieving, tired, and we have all longed to hear God’s voice in the midst of it all. As you listen, remember those feelings, and hear what God has to say to you today. Let’s listen.

[READ]

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

Last week when we were in Costa Rica, one of the cool animals we got to see was the basilisk lizard, or more colloquially known as the Jesus Christ lizard. You know why? Because this little guy runs water! After worship, go Google “Jesus Christ lizard” and watch a video, preferably one that’s in slow-mo. Imagine Jesus running like that across the Sea of Galilee. I dare you not to laugh.

Point is, this scene of Jesus walking on water is so connected with people’s understanding of Jesus and his power, that even the animal kingdom knows about it. And it is amazing, sure. But if I’m honest, cool as this trick is, Jesus’ ability to walk on water is not the part of this passage that stirs my heart.

As is often the case for me, it is Jesus’ interaction with Peter, and its resonance with my own experience of faith, that truly moves me.

But before I get to that, let me ask you a question. Thinking of your own life, what is the lesson you have learned in life that has most shaped who you are, the one that lives in your body, that changed how you move through the world? This is a question that minister, leadership consultant and public theologian Zina Jacque has asked in various settings as a part of her work. “Don’t tell me what it is,” she says. “Just hold it in mind.” Then she asks, “Did you learn that lesson during a time of ease?” It doesn’t matter the setting, she says. Every time she asks, no more than 5% of the room has learned their most formative lesson when everything was going well. Most of us learn our most crucial lessons during the trying moments of our lives. Does that check out for you? It does me!

This is what we see happen in today’s Gospel story. The first thing to notice is when this event takes place: “early in the morning.” The Greek there actually says during the “fourth watch,” referring to the hours between 3am and 6am, that time of the morning that is still dark, that is, in fact, the darkest. 

Have you ever noticed how important things happen during these hours? This is when the Israelites escaped Egypt through the Red Sea. In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus begins his ministry by rising at this early, pre-dawn time to pray by himself. And most famously, it is at this dark hour that the women discovered the stone rolled away from the empty tomb. The fourth watch, the darkest part of the night, is often when something new is born.

And here is where the disciples find themselves, in the fourth watch, with the wind against them, being battered by the waves. 

Life feels like that sometimes, right? Like things are so dark we can’t see the way forward, like we are being tossed about by a storm, like the waves are battering us – or, another translation of that word is “harassing” or “tormenting,” as in, they were being tormented by the waves. Oof! I spoke with someone recently who is having the hardest summer of their life: they're in the middle of a divorce after a nearly four decade long marriage, their teenage son’s best friend recently took his own life, their father just died suddenly, and mom is going on hospice. That is being tormented by the waves of life, all in one summer! Like the Psalmist laments, “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck!” (Ps. 69) What new thing could possibly be born in the midst of such a storm?

Many of you know, I spent a year as a missionary in Slovakia. Now, I have had my share of hardship in life, but this year remains one of my most stormy. I was desperately lonely. I struggled to learn the language. I didn’t understand what God’s purpose was for me in that place to which I thought I’d been called, especially when multiple difficult things were happening closer to home that I felt I should be present for. One of those tragedies at home caused for me one of the biggest faith crises I have ever endured. And yet, I also always remember: it was there, where the ground on which I had always stood was unsteady, where a storm tried to shake my inmost calm, that I discerned a call to ministry. Would I have heard that call if I’d been doing something else, closer to home? I dunno, probably eventually. God is pretty relentless with these things. But I didn’t. I heard it there, during the fourth watch, in the midst of the storm. 

Now I want to return to where I started – not with the Jesus lizard (though this is your reminder to be sure to google it later!), but with Peter. It is his response to all this, and Jesus’ response to him, that speaks to me about when I face these storms, these fourth watch moments in life. First of all, Peter turns toward Jesus, and he trusts him. I mean personally, I think he must have been out of his mind to say, “Cool, yeah, it's Jesus, so I’m going to step out of the boat in the midst of this storm and walk out to him like it’s an average Tuesday.” Who does that? Well, Peter, apparently! He trusts Jesus against all odds. And notice, he walks on the water, too. He does not immediately sink. It isn’t until he notices that the wind is still awfully strong that he begins to falter. Like the Psalmist, he cries out, “Lord, save me!” The waters have come up to his neck.

And this is the key moment for me: Peter has recognized that he cannot do it on his own, that faith in Christ and his salvation is not up to him alone. And so, Jesus immediately reaches out, takes his hand, and catches him. It brings to mind a line from the Small Catechism. In Martin Luther’s explanation of the 3rd article of the creed, he writes, “I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel… and kept me in the true faith.” 

Did you hear that? We cannot by our own reason or strength believe in Jesus or come to him. We can take those first, brave, faithful steps. We can come to the font, ready to receive God’s grace. We can study scripture and pray and join in Christian community to help us become stronger, to help us endure the storms and survive and learn from the difficult fourth watch lessons that come our way. But we cannot get there by our own reason or strength. Eventually we will waver and falter. We will notice the wind and waves and be afraid; the grief of the divorce or the untimely death will become unbearable; the pressures of life will exhaust us; we will long to be anywhere other than where we are… and it is here, during the fourth watch, when Jesus will reach out, take our hand, and catch us. He has been there all along, of course – but here is where he makes sure we know it.

You see, no matter how fearful, or doubtful, or exhausted we are, Jesus will never grow tired of coming toward us to close the gap. It may not be in the way we expected – perhaps he shows up not in the wind or earthquake or fire, but in the sound of sheer silence. But whatever the case, Jesus will always come and take our hand. He saves us, beckoning us when we are unsure, grabbing our hand when we start to drown, helping us to stay afloat when the waters come up to our necks, and climbing into the wind-battered boat with us. 

In the end, this isn’t a story about Peter’s strong faith, nor about ours. As always, it is a story about Christ, and his saving action. It is about Christ, calling out to us, over the tempestuous winds, and into our tempestuous hearts, saying, “Have courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

Let us pray… God of the storm, when the wind is against us, when the waters are up to our neck, when we are afraid and unsure… come to us. Give us your hand. And let this bring peace to our souls. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

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.