Sermon: Who is Jesus to you? (August 23, 2026)

Pentecost 13A
August 23, 2026
Matthew 16:13-20

INTRODUCTION

Today’s readings will reflect on the question of what it means to be a Christian, a follower of Christ, not just in the safety of the church community, but in the world. “Do not be conformed to this world,” Paul exhorts, “but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God.” It’s a tall order! It is so easy to become conformed to this word, and all of its division and brokenness, and to be influenced by so many worldly powers and persuasions instead of the Gospel we proclaim. 

Isaiah reminds us to remember where we came from, to find our footing in that. And in Matthew, Peter will make a bold claim about who Christ is, even against the backdrop of a city known for its political and worldly influence – making Peter’s declaration of Jesus as the Messiah, over and against even the powerful worldly leaders for whom Caesarea Philippi is named, all the more remarkable! 

Jesus will ask the disciples in Matthew today, “Who do you say that I am?” As you listen to today’s readings, ponder that question for yourself. Who do you say that Jesus is? Who is Jesus for you personally, for the Church, for our hurting world? Let’s listen.

Different faces of Jesus

[READ]

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

I attended a funeral last week, not as the officiant but as a part of the congregation gathered in the funeral home. The officiant was not a pastor, but someone the funeral home has on a list of people who can do your funeral for you if you need them. But he was Lutheran, and so was the deceased, so I was hopeful it would be a service similar to what I usually lead for funerals.

I was disappointed. Nothing was specifically offensive or bad about it. Memories were shared, a prayer, some poetry, a few songs, some brief scripture. What was missing was almost anything at all about Jesus. I mean, I heard Jesus’ name a couple of times, but there was nothing about the resurrection or baptism, nothing about Christ’s victory over death, nothing about the forgiveness of sins and life everlasting. There was no mention of this woman’s faith in God, her connection to a church (though I know she had one), or how God was present with her in her final, suffering years on earth. There was no commendation at the end, in which we commend the deceased into the arms of God and into everlasting peace (though I admit I whispered this prayer over her myself when I paid my final respects). 

I left feeling sort of empty and without hope. Not once in this funeral liturgy did we hear an answer to Jesus’ famous question that he asks today: “Who do you say that I am?” Funerals are the best place to hear that answer, when hearts are broken and aching, to hear some hope and good news! Jesus is savior, redeemer, and friend! Jesus is with us when we suffer! Jesus is more powerful than our pain and grief – and at the same time, he is with us in it, weeping along with us! Because of Jesus, we need not fear the grave! Jesus shows us the way to heaven! 

So many wonderful ways to talk about who Jesus is when we are confronted with our mortality and that of our loved ones. But when asked this question, this officiant did not boldly take the opportunity Peter did, to say, “Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God!” Instead, he said, “She had a nice life that touched a lot of people. And now, we go on.”

Disappointed as I was, this experience did also get me thinking about how often we fall short ourselves of confessing who Jesus is, even in the times where it really, truly matters. When I’m at a funeral, the answer to the question of who Jesus is, is what I already said: redeemer, powerful victor over death, merciful comforter, companion in suffering. But other times, I might answer the question differently. When I’m joyful, laughing at some stupid joke with my friends, I see Jesus as the giver of joy! When I’m trying to navigate the complex emotions of the tweens in my house, I see Jesus as the incarnate God who understands human emotion because he experienced it himself, and I see him as my guide while I try to be the best mom I can be. When I’m troubled because I have said or done something to hurt someone, I see Jesus as the one who forgives, the Great Physician who heals body, mind and spirit, the companion who never leaves my side even when I’m being kind of a jerk. My answer to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” changes, depending on what I’m experiencing.

I was talking about this with my spiritual director this week. Though she is now a Methodist, she grew up in a tradition in which personal testimony was a regular part of worship. “I’m grateful for that,” she said, “because hearing it so often and practicing it myself meant that as an adult, I’m very comfortable talking about my faith, and about how I experience God in my life.” Many of the people she sees in spiritual direction never learned that skill, and that is unfortunately the case for many Lutherans, who are not used to speaking publicly about faith! 

So today, I wanted to give you a chance to hear testimony. I’ve already shared some of mine. I also asked Deacon Emily if she would share her own. Then I’m going to leave a couple of minutes during which you can, if you’re so inclined, share your answer to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” If you prefer, we’ve left the back of the bulletin blank, so you can write your own answer, or we can give you a mic if you’d like to share your Jesus story with others. Deacon Emily, the floor is yours!

[After Emily:] Now it’s your turn? Who do you say Jesus is?

[After a couple of minutes]

I hope you will continue to think and pray about this question, and try to articulate who Jesus is for you. Peter certainly gets us much of the way there: Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the living God. But what does that really look like for you in your real life? Who is Jesus Christ to you?

Let us pray… Jesus, Messiah, Son of the living God: we long to know you, to know who you are with us and for us. Reveal yourself to us, so that we would be able to know you, more and more fully. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

Sermon: Great is her faith: lessons from the Canaanite woman (Aug. 16, 2026)

Pentecost 12A
August 16, 2026
Matthew 15:10-28

INTRODUCTION

Today’s readings urge us to question what, exactly, makes a person “good” or faithful or worthy of love and grace. More specifically, they bring up the question of whether one’s race or ethnicity, or their adherence to the law, is what wins them God’s favor. Isaiah makes a bold claim that God’s house “shall be a house of prayer for all people,” regardless of their foreign status. Paul’s letter to the Romans astutely points out that we are all disobedient, but that our disobedience is what makes God’s immense mercy such a gift. 

Matthew gives us two stories that illustrate this point in different ways. Once again, we are right on the tails of the last few stories – the death of John the Baptist, the feeding of the 5000, Jesus’ desperate attempts to get a moment alone to pray, and the walking on water and stilling the storm. Now Jesus begins challenging some of the Pharisees on laws surrounding cleanliness and diet. In short, he says: it’s not what you eat that matters, but what you say that defiles. 

From there, though, Jesus moves into a foreign country, Tyre and Sidon. This is a land of Gentiles, non-Jews, people outside of the children of Israel. Yet even in a foreign land, Jesus’ reputation precedes him, and a woman approaches him and asks for help for her daughter. And, well, Jesus doesn’t at first respond as mercifully as you might expect, in an interaction that has baffled commentators for generations. 

Judgment of others who are different is rampant in our world, and always has been. As you listen, consider how these texts can help us to reflect on our own human condition, and what they say to our engagement with those who are different from us. Let’s listen. 

[READ]

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

When I was in seminary, I remember there was a preaching series in chapel one year in which they invited the Yale Divinity School faculty to preach on some of the most difficult texts in the Bible. Great idea, right? I remember that this story of the Canaanite woman was one of the texts they preached. 

Unfortunately, I don’t recall anything about the sermon, not even who preached it. But I remember that it is difficult, and every time it comes up, I remember that again. The Jesus we encounter here is… challenging. We have come to expect Jesus will be a model of mercy, compassion, and open-heartedness, even and especially to outsiders and others like this woman. But here, we watch as Jesus first ignores the Gentile, Canaanite woman who is desperately seeking help for her ailing daughter; then he says, “I’m not here for you;” then he comes right out and calls her a dog, likely a racial slur. It is cringy to say the least. What do we do with this Jesus?

Scholars have puzzled over this interaction for centuries. What’s going on here? Perhaps he is testing the woman’s faith. Perhaps he is showing us another example of how God can change God’s mind, as sometimes happens in stories from the Old Testament. Perhaps he is demonstrating what it looks like to be a learner, showing us how to learn from someone who is different from you. 

Looking at the last four sermons I have preached on this text, I have always focused on trying to figure out what is going on with Jesus, and with good reason! But this time around, I’m drawn instead to focus on the woman, and what she can teach us about faith and how to approach Jesus. Because if I’m honest, this chick rocks. I love her! And while focusing on Jesus is never a bad thing, I think we miss something in this text if we don’t also take the chance to learn from this strong, courageous, persistent woman, whose faith Jesus whole-heartedly praises. It’s kind of amazing her story even made it into the Bible, but it’s there for a reason, and so it’s worth paying attention to!

So, what can we learn from her? First of all, this woman shows us to come before Jesus with courage. She had no standing to approach Jesus – women in this time and place were not supposed to talk to strange men, to be so assertive, especially with a respected teacher, which is probably why the disciples want to send her away, and why Jesus at first just ignores her. She is out of order. But she has a need, and she knows Jesus can meet it. She believes in his compassion. So she gathers up all her faith and courage, and her love for her ailing daughter, and she goes against the cultural norm, and approaches Jesus. 

I sometimes hear people say, “I don’t want to bother God with my problems, which are relatively small compared to things like world hunger and war. My things don’t matter that much.” But this woman shows us that they do. That your life, and your challenges, and the things that break your heart, matter to Jesus. Now maybe it feels at first like they don’t matter to him, like he’s just ignoring you or saying no. I’ve offered my share of prayers that include some version of, “Hello?? Are you there? Are you even listening to me??” But nevertheless, she persists in asking, until she knows that she and her important concern have been heard. Great is her faith!

Second, this courageous woman shows us that sometimes challenging authority is necessary. That word, “authority,” can have a different connotation to different people. Some may hear it as oppressive, or forceful, and some may perceive authority as safety, or a guide. The sort of authority Jesus possesses is a loving authority; despite his tough words in this passage, I still believe his ultimately goal is love and life. But even loving authority can stand to be challenged. And she does, because she believes that Jesus would never reject a child, and he wouldn’t reject her. She believes in the breadth of his compassion, that God’s love is larger than what others believe is possible. And she is right! Great is her faith!

A third way this woman demonstrates faith is in how she responds to Jesus’ difficult response to her request. I notice this especially in light of the story right before this, about how what comes out of the mouth is what defiles. I’m sure we have all had experience of defiling words coming out of our mouths, especially when provoked, and also of defiling words coming at us from someone else! It’s not pretty, and it tends to escalate quickly, the more attacked, and thus defensive, people get. 

This woman shows us a different way. She doesn’t say, “I’m not a dog!” or, “Is one of us supposed to be the dog in this scenario??” She doesn’t say, “Hey, that’s really rude!” Even in her distress over the daughter, she is able to receive his comment, and then with some rhetorical jujutsu, she uses his metaphor to destabilize and take down his argument. “Ok, maybe I am a dog. But even so, you should help me because even dogs get crumbs from the master’s table.” What an exceptionally sharp response! Ah, I love her! She doesn’t offend him. She’s not sarcastic. She doesn’t attack. She is not unkind, and doesn’t make it personal. She enters into a rhetorical battle with this respected teacher, talking to him on his own terms, to convince him that she and her daughter are worthy of his attention and mercy right now, not later. Great is her faith!

And this impresses Jesus mightily! This is the moment that you can practically see Jesus’ mission burst open, no longer for only the children of the house of Israel, but for all children of God. At the end of Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus will send out the disciples to baptize and proclaim the gospel to all nations, not just the house of Israel. This woman shows us, by her faith, that her life, her daughter’s life, Canaanite lives, foreigners’ lives, the lives of outsiders – that their lives matter. And Jesus thinks so, too. This woman shows us that the love of God is always greater than the boundaries we would try to draw around it. Great is her faith!

Sometimes this is good news for us, because we are the ones who would have been outside the boundaries, and now, thanks to this woman’s faith, we see that we are included. Sometimes we are on the other side of this conversation, and ours are the eyes that had to be opened, so that we could see that our willingness to love and include and show mercy and compassion has been too narrow – but now we can see the expansiveness of God’s mission, and by that revelation we are invited to be a part of it. 

Either way, it is good news for a world in need. Jesus is for us, for all of us, including the foreigners, the outsiders, and those outside the fold. God’s mercy is for everyone, even those who have no business asking for it, who society tells us should just be quiet. God’s love and compassion are for all of this hurting world. 

And so, let us go out with this woman’s courageous faith, willing to ask God for what we know is right, good, and loving. Let us be willing to stand up to those with power, to proclaim that God’s love and mercy are always bigger than the boundaries we draw around them. Let us go with gentle and humble hearts, not on the attack, not to offend, but to engage with the hurt and pain of this world, with the goal of finding compassion and care for those most in need. And let us go with great faith that God sees us and hears us in our need.

Let us pray… Merciful God, thank you for models such as this woman, who acted with such courage, faith, and determination, and who showed us the breadth of your mercy. Make us so faithful! In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

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.