Sermon: The inconvenient truths of faith (June 11, 2017)

Trinity Sunday

June 11, 2017

Genesis 1:1-2:4a

Matthew 28:16-20

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

            In 2006, Al Gore came out with a documentary meant to educate citizens about global climate change, and the role our lifestyle and habits have played in it. It was called, An Inconvenient Truth. The movie was good – it even won a couple Academy Awards – and it raised global awareness of climate change, and re-energized the environmentalist movement. The work that followed culminated in the Paris Climate Accord from last summer, a worldwide deal to lower carbon emissions in hopes of better caring for this beautiful planet God created for us.

            It was a powerful movie that had a huge impact. I find the title to be particularly compelling: An Inconvenient Truth. The possibility that humans have contributed to catastrophic climate change is terribly inconvenient, isn’t it? Because if that’s the case, then addressing it requires changing a lot of things that are familiar, easy, effective – things that are so central to our daily operations, that

we can’t imagine life without them. How can I function without my car? I have to drive for work, and a bike or the bus system won’t cut it for my needs. I can’t fly less – my family lives across the country! Plastic wrapped goods and packaged foods are ubiquitous and frankly, so much easier. I know the environmental effect on raising red meat is immense, but man, I like to have steak or a burger now and then! It is easier to ignore it, and hope everything turns out for the best.

            Climate change is one inconvenient truth in our daily lives… but honestly, the truth is often inconvenient. When we’ve said something we shouldn’t, we know we are in the wrong… but it is so inconvenient to have to admit that to the person we have wronged. When we know what the right thing to do is, but doing it will make our lives more complicated or less enjoyable, wouldn’t we rather just do the easy thing?

            I have to admit, that as much as I love the Word of God, and take from it much comfort and guidance and all that good stuff… I also find it to be full of inconvenient truths. There are a couple in particular that caught my eye this week. The first is from Genesis, in is this well-loved line: “So God created humankind in his image.” At first blush, this is wonderful! How marvelous, what a privilege that God would make us in His image! But here’s how this has been inconvenient to me this week. We all know that there are a number of very controversial issues out there, the sorts of things that get people really fired up: abortion, the death penalty, refugees, immigration, gun control, drugs, marriage equality… I’m sure everyone here has strong opinions about these things, and I’m equally sure that we do not all hold the same opinion.

But this has been my thought experiment this week: to each of these controversial issues, I have applied this truth, that each person involved is a child of God, lovingly made in God’s image. To the unborn fetus, and to his mother who would terminate the pregnancy: you are made in God’s image. To the criminal on death row: you are made in God’s image. To those fleeing Syria, and to those causing them to flee: you are made in God’s image. To the drug addict: you are made in God’s image. To the terrorists on London Bridge: you are made in God’s image. To the president (whoever it happens to be at any given time): you are made in God’s image.

            What I have found in doing this is that some of those were very easy for me to swallow. Others made me very uncomfortable. And on those that were uncomfortable, I immediately tried to justify why that person should not be identified as “made in the image of God” – but the inconvenient truth is, they all are. God created humankind in His image, and called it good. Now, we also were all

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given freewill, and some have used that freewill for evil acts: this is, sadly, all too true. But that does not change the fact that they were created in God’s image, and that God called that creation good. What’s especially inconvenient is… what comes next? If we truly believe that they are made in God’s image, then how are we to treat these various people?

            And that brings me to a second inconvenient truth. It is a truth that is a promise, even as it is challenging. I’m referring to this last line of the Gospel of Matthew: “And remember, I am with you to the end of the age.” It reminds me of a piece of calligraphy that my parents gave me as an ordination gift. It used to hang in my grandparents’ home, always right by the door, to be seen when you first walk in. It reads, “Christ is the head of this house, the unseen guest at every meal, the silent listener to every conversation.” It’s a lovely reminder of Christ’s promise to his disciples after his resurrection, and at first it sounds like great news! God is with us – all the time, forever and ever.

But then, when you start to realize what that really means for how we act and treat others, it starts to get a little… inconvenient. God is with us when we pray and worship and serve, yay!… but God is also with us when we are about to sling some unsavory insult at someone. Oh. God is with us when we are in need, I’m so grateful… and God is also with us when we see someone else in need, but look to our own safety first. Oh, God saw that, too? God is with us when we enjoy a summer breeze or a gorgeous sunset over the water… and God is also with us when we drag a huge bin of garbage to the side of the road, to be disposed of in a landfill, or the ocean, or wherever. Not sure God envisioned that when He called creation good. God is with us when two or three are gathered… and God is also with us when we shut others out. God is with us when we are afraid… and God is also with us when our fear turns into anger and degrading of others. Yep, God saw that, too.

            That’s awfully inconvenient, to realize that God is with us and see us in all of our goodness, but also in all of our sinfulness, our short-sightedness, our self-serving, our pride. But it is, in the end, also a blessing – for even as it holds us accountable, causing us pause to think, “God is here and watching – is this really what God would have me do right now? Is this really how God would want me to treat this person?” it also promises us that, whatever decisions we make, we, too, are beloved children of God, created in God’s image, through the power and love of the Holy Trinity. It also promises that God invites us repeatedly into the life of that loving Trinity. And it assures us that, whether we are saints or we are sinners, whether we do the right thing in the face of inconvenient truth, or we succumb to the easy way – we are forgiven, and we are loved.

            Let us pray… Holy three-in-on, majestic one-in-three, the life of faith is hard and sometimes inconvenient. Help us, in the face of doubts and difficult decisions, to do what is pleasing in your sight, and to trust your promise that you are with us always, and loving us, your creation. In the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Sent out to heal divisions (June 4, 2017)

Pentecost A

June 4, 2017

Acts 2:1-21

John 20:19-23

1 Corinthians 12:3b-13

  

            A running joke in my family is based on the fact that my dad is Swedish, and my mom is Norwegian. When they were married, a couple folks played this up. One asked my dad how he felt about “mixed marriages.” Another gave them as a wedding card a picture of the bridge between Sweden and Norway. All through my childhood, we had displayed on a single shelf, two flags: one Swedish, and one Norwegian, as a reminder that though we are different, we can at least sit together on the same shelf.

            It’s a silly joke – the enmity between the two Scandinavian countries really ends with Ole and Lena jokes. But while there may not actually be any cultural friction between my parents, or Swedes and Norwegians more generally, there is plenty of other cultural friction in our world. Of course this is true on the global scene – the world is a diverse place that is becoming a larger and larger mixing pot as people leave their home countries in search of a better life – usually either to escape violence and unrest as refugees, or to find work so they can support their families. Though the diversity of cultures present in America is one of the things I love most about this country, it also presents us with a challenge, to figure out how to live together and respect one another, despite our differences. It’s also important to remember that cultural friction is not just a result of migration from other countries – there is plenty of cultural difference among those who have lived in America for many generations. I just read the excellent best-selling book, Hillbilly Elegy, a memoir by a man about my age who grew up as a self-identified hillbilly in rural Ohio and Kentucky, and went on to go to Yale Law School. He describes a culture, right here in my own country, which is entirely foreign to me as a born and bred middle-class American! The lack of understanding about the different cultures that make up our country makes it difficult to address many of the most profound social issues that plague our country.

            Yes, even as the world becomes more globalized and accessible, in ways it also becomes more divided. We are divided by language, income, experience, outlook, values, culture, religion… and much more. The Bible story that describes this reality is the Tower of Babel. You remember that one? The once-united people

of the earth, in a moment of lapsed trust in their God, decided to build a tower so high they could reach heaven. God says, “Not on my watch!” and mixes up all their language so they can’t complete the project. The language was just the beginning – from there, the division of our world has only increased.

            But, the Tower of Babel was not meant to be the end of the story. Today is the day of Pentecost, and it is often described as the answer to, or even the reversal of, Babel. In Babel, the language was all mixed up, symbolizing great division and lack of cooperation among the people of the world. At Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit enters the scene, suddenly all the different nations can once again understand each other – and with that new ability comes also the hope of renewed community, and renewed ability for cooperation as one Church.

            Problem is… doesn’t it still feel like we live in Babel, and not Pentecost? Division is still so prevalent. Working “across the aisle” seems a thing of the past, whether in Washington or even in our families and personal relationships. Finding common ground is increasingly difficult. So if Pentecost really is meant to be a reversal of Babel, then what is that supposed to look like?

            Well, here’s what it doesn’t look like: it doesn’t mean our differences suddenly go away. We still speak different languages, and have different ways of understanding the world. And maybe we don’t want those differences to go away! If we are to take Paul seriously, in his letter to the Corinthians we heard a moment ago, having these differences can actually be an advantage! When the Spirit blows into our lives, she equips us with different gifts, perspectives, approaches, and abilities to see the challenges of the world from different angels. I, for one, am incredibly grateful that there are some people who enjoy and are good at math, or building things, or data management, or technology – so that I don’t have to be, and I can instead focus on the things that do bring me joy!

            So no, the Spirit doesn’t come to eliminate those differences. Rather, the Spirit comes to be present with us in those differences, and in the myriad challenges we face because of them – and by that presence, the Spirit equips us to use what would have been our disruptive, damaging differences to instead build up this Church and this world. You see, the Holy Spirit is not some sort of

by Ladislav Záborský

superhero, sent to rescue us. Rather, the Spirit equips, encourages, and stays with us, and helps us to see the needs of our neighbors and community.

            But that’s not all. The Spirit also equips us to take the next step. You see, we can’t overlook the role the Spirit plays in our text from John, which is sometimes called, “John’s Pentecost.” In this version of the coming of the Spirit, there is no raucous wind, or fire, or speaking in other languages. There is peace, and there is commission: “Peace be with you,” Jesus says. “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” You see, the Spirit’s presence with us is very good, but it is this sending out piece that will change the world. In order to heal our brokenness, the Spirit sends us out into the places where difference and division might try to tear down, so that we can instead bring the spirit of love. We are sent out into situations that might not be comfortable for us, but it is still possible for us to be there and do God’s work because of the promise of the Spirit’s peace. In short, we are sent out to do the work of the Church, bringing peace, forgiveness, reconciliation, and hope to a tumultuous, broken, hurting world.

            Where might be the Spirit be sending you in this time and place, to accomplish that goal of healing division? Perhaps the Spirit is sending you to attend a part of Synod Assembly this weekend. The theme of this assembly is “Building Bridges,” and will focus on global and local mission. It is open to anyone – there are several workshops on topics like, building a relationship with a congregation in Zimbabwe, or learning about Islam from our local imam, or immigration and refugee resettlement, or understanding the accompaniment model of mission, or the effect of incarceration on families. Would learning about those topics help you heal divisions in our community? Or, perhaps the Spirit is sending you to learn about local ministries, such as the one our friend Wala will tell us about today that serves people with disabilities. Or perhaps the Spirit is sending you to pray and give to ELCA global ministries, as you can read about on the insert in your bulletin. Or perhaps the Spirit is sending you to stay closer to home, working on reconciliation in your family or between you and a friend, or engaging in those difficult conversations about our differences so that instead of letting the difference divide us, we can find a way that it will make us stronger, like in the Corinthian community Paul is writing to. Who knows where the Spirit will send you!

            The coming of the Spirit undoes Babel, but not by removing the barriers. It undoes Babel by showing us how to overcome, by being present with us as we face those barriers and challenges, by showing us the way to dismantle them, and reach out to those whose language or understanding differs from our own. I believe that once we let the Spirit send us to these places, where we will inevitably encounter people who are different from us, who may even make us feel uncomfortable, that we will also be moved beyond our personal concerns, and become better equipped to see the world as a whole, to understand how to work for the greater good, and not just for our individual needs. We will see ourselves as a part of the global community, with neighbors to love and serve all over the world. By the power of the Holy Spirit, this is our mission.

            Let us pray… Come, Holy Spirit. By your power, show us the way to peace. Send us out into our communities and into the world to heal divisions, to live out your love, and to be good neighbors to all our neighbors, near and far. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: We are not left orphaned (May 21, 2017)

Easter 6A

May 21, 2017

John 14:15-21

            In what seems to be a constantly bad news cycle, this week I read some good news. Seven children, all from the same family, who have been in foster care for nearly four years, were adopted by one couple, who were previously parents to only one young son. The seven children, ranging in age from 5 to 14, moved into the couple’s three-bedroom home last summer, and as of last week, they have been officially adopted. The family of three has become a family of 10! The article I read featured some family photos, with the kids being silly together, smiling and looking very comfortable. The photos that really got me were with the adopted kids holding a sign that said, “We were in foster care for 1359 days. But today, we’re adopted!” and the biological son holding a sign that said, “I was an only child for 1426 days, but today, I became a little brother!” While I’m sure the new situation has plenty of challenges, the faces in the photos exuded pure joy. (Read the story here.)

            Stories like this are so heartwarming – for the sheer generosity and love of the couple, to be sure, but also for the recognition that so many children lack the generous, loving presence of parents in their lives, either because they are orphans, or because their biological parents are unable to provide that for them. Our hearts truly ache to see an orphaned child, especially a young child, and that has always been the case – the Bible repeatedly implores us to care for the widows and the orphans, because both groups are particularly vulnerable.

            That feeling of being orphaned, though – it is not only for those who have experienced an untimely loss of their parents. We all might now and then “feel like a motherless child,” as the old spiritual says. We feel it whenever we cannot find our footing, when we feel lost in this world, when we are without direction and can’t find the love and support we need. We might feel that sense of being orphaned any time we lack the connection we humans so desperately crave. When we lack genuine and loving connection, the other challenging aspects of life can seem insurmountable. Sometimes, we even see such a lack of connection end tragically.

            Which is why Jesus’ words to his disciples on the night he was betrayed, these words we heard just a moment ago, are so important. “I will not leave you orphaned,” Jesus says. What music to their ears, as they come to realize that their friend, teacher, and indeed their advocate is fast approaching his death. Remember, these guys, the disciples, are a bunch of nobodies, and Jesus has made them somebodies. He has called them, empowered them, taken the time to teach them, and to send them out to care for others. Perhaps this is the first time they have felt like they actually mattered to someone – mattered, even, to the world!

            This week, I read the obituary of my beloved 7^th and 8^th grade language arts teacher. Mrs. Hinman was an incredible and inspiring person in her own right, but the role she played as teacher to so many middle schoolers made a remarkable difference in those students’ lives. I have been watching this week as my childhood friends have posted her obituary on Facebook with their own testimony about what she did for them during those tumultuous years of a person’s life. For me, as I endured the usual smattering of self-esteem issues, friend issues, and a feeling that I was completely misunderstood by everyone, Mrs. Hinman taught me how to see beauty and purpose in brokenness. She taught me how to think, and how to feel, and how thinking and feeling can go together. She taught me how to use literature to be self-reflective, and to then use that self-awareness to find a deeper sense of compassion for others. I’m not alone in this – my friends have said similar things, that when they truly needed support, love, connection to the world, she showed them how to find it.

            School teachers often play this role for us, and often in really critical times in our human development. But as important as teachers are, even this does not compare to the promise Jesus offers us. For not only does Jesus promise not to leave us orphaned, he tells us how he will remain constantly present with us, even though he is bodily absent: he will send an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to be with us.  “This is the Spirit of truth,” he says, indicating that by this Spirit we will be comforted, guided, and supported by the truth of Christ’s promise. This Spirit, Jesus says, will abide with us, remain with us, and be familiar to us – so that we will never have to feel like we are orphaned, like we lack connection. In the Spirit of truth, we will always be connected, to God, and to one another.

Holy Spirit, mosaic from Ravenna Baptistery
http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=54495

            I know I shouldn’t play favorites with the Trinity, but I always gravitate toward the Holy Spirit. Part of the reason for this is that there is so much symbolism around that person of the Trinity, that I seem to see that Spirit everywhere. For example, this past week, as I was sitting in the Cardiac ICU waiting room with the Alexanders, during Jim’s surgery, I kept seeing something moving outside the window. I realized it was a pigeon, which kept coming to perch just outside the window. From my angle, it looked like the bird was perched directly behind Mary Lou’s head. The Holy Spirit is often portrayed as a dove, a bird that is related to the pigeon, so it seemed as if the Holy Spirit herself kept coming and perching there, offering comfort and connection during a scary time.  

Then, when the family got called back to talk to the doctor, the first thing the doctor said to them was, “You can breathe – everything went well.” Breath – another way the Holy Spirit is manifest, as we saw a few weeks ago when Jesus breathed his Holy Spirit on the disciples after the resurrection. After waiting for that surgery, the family was invited to breathe in that comforting peace that all had gone well.

            Then, this week at Prayer First, it was warm and sunny outside, but also windy. In the Pentecost story we will hear in a couple weeks, the Holy Spirit is described as a rushing wind – so as we prayed, it felt as if the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, was caressing our cheeks with her warm embrace, carrying our prayers to heaven, and promising us God’s counsel, guidance, and comfort as we lifted our needs up to God.

            How many ways there are to experience the Spirit’s presence in our lives! How many reminders that we are not orphaned, that indeed, through the Spirit we are immensely connected – to God and to one another. Jesus’ promise to his disciples that night that he was sending an Advocate means everything, as one blogger writes: “You have an advocate! Someone who is looking out for you. Someone who is on your side. Someone who encourages you and supports you. Someone who speaks up for you and is willing to hang in there with you through thick and thin.” To hear this is good news no matter who that advocate is, but the one Jesus promises is God, Himself. And that God will not ever let us go, nor leave our side – not when we feel orphaned, or abandoned, or misunderstood, or overlooked. Not when we feel vulnerable and helpless. Not when we feel unloved, or even unlovable. And that Advocate wants for us health and healing, community and blessing – in short, abundant life.

            God gave us Christ so that we would have that abundant life. But God didn’t stop there – for we also are given the Holy Spirit, to encourage and look out for us, to care for us and stay with us and walk alongside us. In other words: the Spirit came to be like Christ for us, every day. Thanks be to God!

            Let us pray… Holy Spirit, when we feel disconnected or alone, you come to us again and again in your many and various ways. Help us to remember to look for you whenever we are in need of comfort, counsel, and support, and connection. In the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Sticks and stones break more than bones (May 14, 2017)

Easter 5A

May 14, 2017

Acts 7:55-60

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

            Bringing food to hungry widows hardly seems like a job that would get someone killed. Surely the twelve apostles had a far more dangerous job – they were preaching the Word of God, the good news of Jesus Christ, into a world and culture that rejected this message. Their preaching was an affront to the government, offensive to the powers that be, and often placed them in very scary, vulnerable positions. Christian preaching was a high-risk job in those days! But apparently not as risky as the job that Stephen would take on.

            How did Stephen end up with such a dangerous job? Well, the fledgling Christian Church was outgrowing its structures – a good problem to have, right? Though they were dedicated to caring for one another, feeding one another, sharing goods, generally loving one another as Jesus had taught them – as disciples of The Way increased, some of the needy were falling through the cracks; in particular, some of the widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food. As problems often do, this presented them with a new ministry opportunity! So the leaders of the new church considered the gifts of their members, and how they could best fill the need presented to them, and came up with a plan: they would start a deacon ministry. Seven were chosen to serve in this new ministry, and their job would be to bring food to the hungry widows. Among them was Stephen, who was described by his friends as “a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit.” With this new deacon ministry in place, the Twelve would be able to devote themselves to the preaching of the Word and prayer, and the seven deacons would be empowered to carry out the ministry of service. The Twelve did a laying on of hands, and they sent out the deacons.

            Stephen proved to be well-suited to this new ministry, and he jumped in with both feet. To him, waiting on tables was not just a job, not just a duty that filled his days. No, for Stephen, it was a calling – an opportunity for him to share his faith and his wisdom with people who really needed it. To those he served and worked with, he became the light of Christ. He was truly “a man full of God’s grace and power.” Stephen had found his niche – he was loving it!

            It sounds great, doesn’t it? What a beautiful example Stephen was! How great it would be if we all could bring God’s love and light into our workplaces – whether that is waiting on tables like Stephen, or working in an office cubicle, or teaching, or nursing, or even being a stay-at-home parent – what if we could all shed God’s light in our workplaces in the way that we serve one another and share our faith.

But, it wasn’t long before the opposition felt threatened by Stephen’s

wisdom. He was too good. He made the opposition feel uncomfortable, and their discomfort made them feel angry. They looked for ways to bring him down; yet whenever they tried to argue with him, “they could not stand up to his wisdom or the Spirit by whom he spoke.” And so they asserted their power: they seized Stephen, accused him of blasphemy, they “stirred up the people and elders and teachers of the law.” “They produced false witnesses” to make him look bad. Some who watched were caught up in the excitement of it all. Stephen gave an impassioned speech, standing firm in his faith, and people got even more upset. Before long, the crowd was stoning Stephen to death.

Things can escalate quickly when people feel threatened, can’t they? For us, too; when we feel threatened or scared – even if just for a time, we can assuage our own insecurities and fears and focus on taking down the thing or person who made us feel insecure or fearful. Attacking someone else helps us to ignore our own dark spots, our own sins, our own shortcomings, our own mistakes. It helps us avoid the dark truth in our hearts.

            I shared a story a few weeks ago from Brene Brown’s recent book; here’s another one. Brene encountered a woman at a speaking engagement who really bugged her, named Pamela. Pamela was pushy, self-congratulatory, and had nothing but complaints about her boss and the people she worked with. Some weeks later, Pamela wrote to Brene, inviting her to speak at a conference – and included in the email a correction on how Brene had pronounced someone’s name in her talk. It hit one of Brene’s triggers – she was filled with shame over the mistake, and lashed out at Pamela in response. She crafted an email back that would take Pamela down in every possible subversive way, including copying the woman’s boss on the email and mentioning the horrible things Pamela had said about her. Oh, Brene was proud of the email, but did not send it. She asked her therapist about it. Her therapist gently asked her the golden question: “How do you hope this will make her feel?” Brene thought for a moment, then said, “I hope she feels small and ashamed.” Then, in horror, she realized why she wanted that: because that was how Pamela had made her feel. She wanted to take that shame stone Pamela had thrown at her, and hurl it right back, with much greater force.

            So it goes when we feel threatened or ashamed, and so it went with Stephen. Some people felt threatened by Stephen – by his faith, by his eloquent and courageous living and articulating of that faith, by his wisdom. His work made them feel uncomfortable, and their discomfort made them feel angry. And so they cast stones – cast enough stones and with enough vitriol and strength, that they

killed him. And so Stephen became the first martyr, the first to die for the sake of the Christian faith.

            Now, of course, in America we don’t experience stonings like this anymore. But such figurative stonings as what Brene Brown described are all too familiar. They happen in our workplaces, in our homes, even in our churches. So that made me wonder: As we read Stephen’s story today, both the ending we just heard and the story leading up to it, with whom do we identify at any given point in our own story?

Do we identify with the ones casting stones – who lash out against something that makes us feel threatened and uncomfortable and vulnerable, that is against our sensibilities? Would we rather just get rid of the thing that challenges us rather than actually facing it, taking the time to learn about it, maybe even learn from it, and risk it revealing something dark in ourselves?

Do we identify more with Saul? Did you notice he is a part of this story? Saul, of course, will later become Paul, St. Paul, who penned most of the latter half of the New Testament and was instrumental in the spread of Christianity. But at this point, he is still one of the biggest persecutors of the Christian church. He is standing by, watching this happen, holding people’s coats, and nodding his approval. Do we, too, stand by and let evil go on, quietly approving it?

Or what about the other bystanders – the ones who didn’t approve of what was happening to this great man of faith, but said and did nothing? The ones who were merely complicit, letting evil persist, because it was too risky to get involved? Do we ever find ourselves in that place?

Of course, we all find ourselves in every part of this story at some point – but the place where our faith calls us to identify is with Stephen, because Stephen is living out the life to which Christ calls him. He serves God’s people, bringing Christ’s light and life to all he does. In the face of persecution, he holds fast to his faith, never wavering. Even in the moment of his death, he declares the promise of God’s everlasting life, and asks forgiveness for those who persecute him. And in the end, Luke tells us, “He fell asleep” – a euphemism that means he died, but is stated in a way that brings to mind an entry into eternal rest.

“I am the Way,” Jesus tells his disciples in our Gospel lesson today. And sometimes this statement brings us great comfort. Other times, following The Way that is Jesus leads to persecution, pain, and in the case of Stephen and many others, even death. Will we follow that Way? Will we do what is right even when it is risky, even when it upsets people?

Praise be to God for the witness of people like Stephen, and so many other saints and martyrs who have come before us, for they have shown us not only the cost of true and faithful discipleship, but also the great reward: to be, as Jesus says, in and with the Father, in relationship with God, to know the love of God here and now, and finally, to live forever in God’s glory. Thanks be to God!

Let us pray… Faithful God, the path you lay out for us is as challenging as it is full of love and grace. Guide us to be faithful disciples, slow to cast stones and quick to love and forgive. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.