Category Archives: Sermons

A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany
Text: Matthew 5:1-12

Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

A couple of weeks ago after church, I met a gentleman from the community who had come to the parish office looking for some assistance.

He told me his name, and he shared with me some details about his life. He had been homeless for some time and was now living with someone else from the community who offered him a place to stay.

He also told me he had a job at a local restaurant and needed a way to get in touch with his employer in case they wanted him to come in and take some extra shifts at work. So, he asked if there was a way that the church might be able to provide a phone for him to use.

At first, I didn’t think there would be a way for us to help, but then I realized that we might be able to at least provide him one of those pre-paid cell phones—one that wouldn’t require a monthly plan.

So, I told him, “I think we can help.” And, we got in my truck and drove down the road to the Dollar General Store where I bought him an inexpensive phone and a 30-day, prepaid phone card.

On the way back to the church, he shared with me a few more details about his life.

He told me that all of his family members were gone and that he didn’t really have anyone in his life. He told me that he really hoped that this new job would help him get back on his feet.

And, then the conversation turned to God.

He said to me, “You know, I really don’t think God gives us more than we can handle.” And, then he paused, and I could tell he was waiting for me to say something.

So, I took a deep breath, and I said, “ I don’t think God causes bad things to happen to us. I really believe that God loves us and wants what’s best for us in our lives.”

He listened to what I had to say, and then the conversation turned to something else.

I don’t know if he believed what I said, but I hope—at least on some level—that a seed of grace was planted and that he could start to believe that God wasn’t responsible for all the bad things in his life.

I hope—at least on some level—that he could start to believe that God loves him more than he could possibly imagine, despite the tragic circumstances that left him homeless and without any family to take care of him.

When we got back to the church, he thanked me again for my help, and we went our separate ways. And, in that moment, I stopped to give thanks to God for putting me—and our church—in a position where we could help a stranger in need. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And, sometimes, all it takes is a little something to change someone’s life.

Now, I didn’t share this story with you today to draw your attention to something I did.

I shared it with you to draw your attention to something God did through me and our parish.

Think about it for a moment.

It was God, through the guidance and power of the Holy Spirit, who put it into the hearts and minds of the people of St. Mary’s to call a full-time rector to come and serve this parish and this community.

And, it’s God, through the love and example of Jesus Christ, who continues to inspire the people of St. Mary’s to give generously of their time, talents, and resources to support the ongoing mission and ministries of this parish.

Through your faithfulness and commitment to service, we were able to help someone in need—someone who might not have been cared for otherwise.

It’s not something I did or that we did on our own. It’s something God did, through us. Apart from God, we wouldn’t be able to do anything. God is love and the source of every ounce of love we have to give. 

Through the power of the Holy Spirit, God has equipped us and empowered us to proclaim the Gospel through our words and actions, and that, my friends, is something worth all of our thanks and praise.

Today’s Gospel lesson from Matthew is a helpful reminder that God loves each and every one of us and that he cares deeply about what happens to us in our lives—especially the most vulnerable among us.

But, it’s more than just a helpful reminder of God’s love. It’s also a call to action for those of us who have answered God’s call to follow Jesus.

At the beginning of our lesson this morning, Jesus is gathered with his disciples on top of a mountain.

And he begins a long series of teachings—spanning three chapters in Matthew—commonly known as the Sermon on the Mount.

The first part of the sermon—which we call the Beatitudes—is one of the most well-known passages from Scripture and one of the most important teachings of Jesus.

In it, we hear Jesus share with his disciples what it means to truly be blessed by God.

Of all the ways Jesus could’ve begun his Sermon on the Mount, he chose this particular way—by telling his followers about the love of God overcoming death and despair and by offering hope to those who had none.

The Beatitudes set the stage for everything that would follow in Jesus’ life and ministry. It was his way of preparing his disciples and showing them that his ministry would be like no other.

It was also his way of saying that the Kingdom of Heaven has come near.

Now, before I continue on, I want to take a moment to clarify something that’s often misunderstood or misinterpreted in the Gospels.

When Jesus refers to the “Kingdom of Heaven” (as he does in our Gospel lesson this morning) or the “Kingdom of God” (as he does in other Gospels), he isn’t talking about some far-off place where God is and we aren’t, and he isn’t talking about the place where we go after we die.

When Jesus preaches about the “Kingdom of Heaven” or “Kingdom of God,” it’s his way of describing God’s dream of a world redeemed in love—a world where all of God’s children are treated with dignity and respect, a world where no one goes hungry or worries about whether or not they’ll have a warm place to sleep at night.

The Beatitudes of Jesus teach us that this dream of God isn’t just some far-off dream or something that will happen a long time from now. The Beatitudes teach us that God’s dream is becoming a reality—here and now—and that God’s dream is being accomplished through us.

We—all of us who are sitting here today—are part of God’s plan to help bring healing and wholeness to the world God created.

To illustrate this better, I want to share with you a slightly different version of the Beatitudes, which was written several years ago by Archbishop Desmond Tutu in his storybook Bible, Children of God.

The title at the beginning reads, “Jesus teaches the secret of happiness.”

One day, Jesus told his followers about God’s dream of a world where all the children of God are loved and cared for, and no is left out.

Blessed are you who are poor, for all God’s world is yours.

Blessed are you who are hungry, for God will feed you.

Blessed are you who are sad, for God will comfort you and you will laugh again.

Blessed are you who feed the poor, for you are the hands of God.

Blessed are you who comfort the sad, for you are the arms of God.

Blessed are you who work for peace, for you are the voice of God.

Blessed are you who are loving and kind, for you are the heart of God.

I love this version of the Beatitudes because I think it brings it all home and helps us better understand the true meaning and significance of the Scripture.

Not only does God promise to restore this broken and sinful world, but he blesses those of us who have answered the call to help make it a reality.

We are the hands and arms of God. We are his voice. We are his heart.

May we answer the call to serve faithfully, and may we always remember that it’s God, working through us, who is able to accomplish these things. Amen.

A Sermon for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany
January 22, 2023

Text: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18

Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

One of my favorite things to do when I come to a new parish is to take some time to walk around the church building and get a sense of where everything is located. Now, I’m still new. So, it’s going to take some time for me to find where everything is.

But, one of the reasons why I love doing this is I get to discover some hidden treasures along the way—especially in a place like St. Mary’s, which has a lot of history.

The other day, as I was walking from the church back to my office, something caught my attention. It was propped up on a table close to the nursery. So, I stopped to see what it was.

What I discovered was a small, framed print that looked like a piece of parchment paper, with beautiful handwriting.

I brought it with me this morning to show you in case you’ve never seen it before.

And, since the print is so small, I want to share with you the words.

They love one another,
They never fail to help widows.
They save orphans from those who would hurt them.
If they have something, they give freely to the man who has nothing.
If they see a stranger, they take him home, and are happy,
as though he were a real brother.
They don’t consider themselves brothers in the usual sense,
but brothers instead, through the Spirit, in God.

If you had to guess who these words were written about, what would you say?

I’ll give you a hint.

At the bottom of the page, there’s a caption that says, “Aristides, a non-Christian, describing the Christians to Hadrian.

Now, if you don’t recognize the names I just mentioned, that’s okay. I didn’t either when I first read it.

But, later I did a little research to find out who Aristides and Hadrian were, and what I discovered was really interesting.

Aristides was a Greek philosopher who lived in Athens during the second century.

There’s very little we know about his life, but what we do know—based on the writings of historians from that time—is that Aristides eventually converted from paganism to Christianity.

And, in the year 125—only about ninety years after the birth of the Church—he wrote a letter to the Roman emperor, Hadrian, in defense of the Christian faith in order to convince him to stop persecuting Christians.

The words I shared with you just a few moments ago were taken from that letter, which is now commonly referred to as The Apology of Aristides—one of the oldest documents of its kind in existence today.

It was written at a time when the Christian faith was still in its infancy—when the number of Christians  was relatively small and followers of the way of Jesus were being persecuted and killed because of their beliefs.

Before his conversion to Christianity, Aristides was someone on the outside of the Church looking in, who observed in the earliest followers of Jesus a way of life that he believed to be the truest expression of who God is and how God wants us to live our lives.

He was so captivated and moved by what he witnessed in the early Christian community that he changed his life and became a follower of Jesus.

You can almost hear it in his words.

They love one another,
They never fail to help widows.
They save orphans from those who would hurt them.
If they have something, they give freely to the man who has nothing.
If they see a stranger, they take him home, and are happy,
as though he were a real brother.
They don’t consider themselves brothers in the usual sense,
but brothers instead, through the Spirit, in God.

This is how Christians in the earliest days of the Church demonstrated the love of God in Christ Jesus and, it’s what they became known for.

They became known for loving each other.

They became known for giving to those in need and not expecting anything in return.

They weren’t consumed with themselves or their own well-being.

They understood that the call to walk in the way of Jesus meant loving and serving their neighbors—especially those who lived on the margins, those who were often overlooked and ignored.

As Christians, there’s nothing more faithful we could possibly do than serving those in need—and doing so with a joyful and loving heart.

The kind of love that Aristides described in his letter to Hadrian almost two-thousand years ago is the same love we’re called upon to share in our own time.

It’s a love so deep and so strong that it’s impossible not to be moved when we see it in action—a love steeped in the message of the cross and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

In our lesson today from I Corinthians, Paul writes: “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

I want us to consider for a moment just how counter-cultural it is to be a Christian.

When you think about it, it really doesn’t make much sense, does it? Especially when you consider it from a worldly point of view.

The world around us would have us believe that we only need to care about ourselves—that we should always put ourselves first and not make any sacrifices for the well-being of others.

The world around us would have us believe that in order to be happy and fulfilled, all we need to do is accumulate more and keep everything for ourselves.

The world around us would have us believe that showing compassion and mercy are signs of weakness.

But, the message of the cross teaches us otherwise.

The message of the cross teaches us that there’s nothing more powerful on this earth than the love of God. Jesus showed us, through his sacrifice on the cross, that not even death could contain God’s love.

He said to his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

In other words, if you want to lead a happy, comfortable life and not ever be concerned with the needs of those around you, Christianity is probably not the best choice.

C.S. Lewis said it this way: “I didn’t go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.”

It’s true.

Our faith in Christ is based on a love that’s self-giving, not selfish. We preach Christ crucified and risen  and worship a God who loved us so much that he came to live and die as one of us and to save us from the power of sin and death.

The challenge, in every generation of the Church, is to look beyond ourselves and to remember who we are and to whom we belong.

So, my question for you is this.

For those on the outside looking in—what would they say about our community of faith here at St. Mary’s?

Would they say the same things that people observed about the early Church?

Would they say we love each other?

Would they say we give to those in need?

Would they say we take care of those on the margins?

Based on what I’ve already seen and what I know to be true about this parish, I think they would.

I’ve only been with you a little over two weeks, but I can already tell that you have a heart for ministry and a desire to reach out and share God’s love with others.

I’m amazed and inspired by the level of outreach our parish does—especially for a church our size. Yesterday, for example, we hosted our Rice and Beans Ministry for those in our community who need a little extra help with food each month. We gave out bags of dried beans, rice, and other pantry staples, and we fed well over a hundred people with a warm breakfast.

None of it would be possible without the support of our parish and a strong group of volunteers who work together to make it happen.

And, I’m sure, as I continue to get to know you better and learn even more about what goes on here at St. Mary’s, I’ll continue to be amazed and inspired by your commitment to service.

But…there’s always room to grow, and there’s always room to try new things.

And, as more people come to join us, we’ll be able to do even more for the sake of the Gospel.

I really believe that, and I hope you do as well.

God is still at work in our community, leading us and guiding us to be the hands and feet of Christ in the world. All we have to do is be willing to answer the call and step out in faith, knowing that God is always with us. Amen.

A Sermon for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany
January 15, 2023

Text: John 1:29-42

Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In my sermon this morning, I have just three words that I’d like for us to focus on, and I hope you’ll remember these words and carry them with you as you go about your week.

Just three little words—the only words that Jesus speaks in our lesson today from John’s Gospel.

“Come and see.”

In our Gospel lesson this morning, John the Baptist is standing with two of his disciples—probably near the bank of the Jordan River. We know, based on our reading, that one of them is Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, and the other disciple is unnamed.

When John sees Jesus walk by, he says, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” Andrew and the other disciple hear what John says, and they immediately begin following Jesus.

When Jesus turns and sees them them following, he says to them, “What are you looking for?” They ask him, “Rabbi, where are you staying?” He says to them, “Come and see.”

It’s such a simple invitation, isn’t it?

Jesus offers no further instructions or explanations. All he says to the two disciples is, “Come and see.”

I think it’s his way of saying, “I could tell you, but it would be better if I showed you.”

If we skip ahead a little bit in the first chapter of John, we hear a story vey similar to the one we just heard. Philip finds Nathanael and offers him the same invitation that Jesus gives to the disciples in today’s Gospel lesson.

Philip tells Nathanael, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Doubtful about Philip’s claim, Nathanael asks him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

“Come and see,” Philip says.

As Episcopalians, we love this invitation, don’t we? It’s only three words long, which is perfect because anything longer than that might be asking just a little too much!

All joking aside, I think the real reason why we love this invitation so much is because it speaks to who we are as followers of Jesus.

When we invite others to experience the beauty of our tradition in the Episcopal Church, we could easily tell them about all the wonderful things we do as a community of faith and all the things we love most about being Episcopalian.

We could tell them about our love for the liturgy and the beautiful traditions that make our worship so meaningful.

We could tell them about our desire to be active in the community and present to the needs of others.

We could tell them about how much we love good food and fellowship and spending time with each other.

Or, we could show them all these things by inviting them to “come and see” what we’re up to in our little corner of God’s Kingdom here at St. Mary’s.

We could invite them to come and experience for themselves the joy and love and peace that we experience each week as we come together to praise and worship God and to recommit our lives to serving God and God’s people.

“Come and see” is our way of doing evangelism in the Episcopal Church. It’s our way of showing others who we are and inviting them to join with us in walking the way of love.

You would think that, with such a simple invitation, we’d be perfectly comfortable talking about evangelism, but for most of us, that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, even mentioning the word “evangelism” causes many of us to respond in a negative way.

I think a lot of that has to do with past experiences we might’ve had in other places. Perhaps you had someone who was just a little too eager to get you to come to their church or convert you to their denomination.

Perhaps you had someone whose idea of evangelism involved shoving their beliefs down your throat or making you feel guilty about not going to church.

Maybe you’ve encountered a street corner preacher or two who told you that, if you don’t believe in God or if you don’t get your life straight with God, you’re going to end up burning in hell for all eternity.

Beloved, I can’t stress this enough. None of the examples that I just mentioned have anything to do with evangelism or inviting others to follow the way of Jesus. In fact, I’d say they’re really good examples of what not to do.

Jesus had no desire to force anyone or guilt anyone into believing a certain way. He came in order to teach us a new and better way to live with the hope that we would listen to what he had to say and follow his example.

Jesus had no desire to establish a new religion or to force religion on anyone. He came, not to abolish the old covenant, but to fulfill it, and he did this by teaching his followers the two greatest commandments of all—love God and love your neighbor. “On these two commandments,’ Jesus said, “hang all the law and the prophets.”

Jesus had no desire to condemn other people. He came, not to condemn the world, but to save it. His invitation to his first followers was, “Come and see.” 

Do you see where I’m going with all of this?

A lot of the preconceived ideas that we have about evangelism are wrong. In the truest sense of the word, evangelism is about spreading the Good News of God in Christ, and it really is good news. The word “evangelism” comes from the Greek word, euangelion, which literally mean “good news.”

Evangelism is about being witnesses to the transforming power of God’s love in our lives and inviting others to experience it as well so that all of us may go out and share that love with the world. One way we can do the work of evangelism here at St. Mary’s is by inviting others to “come and see” what God is up to, here and now, in our own lives and in the life of this community.

Several years ago, I had the opportunity to go to a wonderful conference on evangelism sponsored by the Episcopal Church. On the first night of the conference, I had the privilege of hearing our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, preach a wonderful sermon. By the way, if you’ve never heard a sermon of his, I encourage you to go online and listen. You’ll be glad you did.

At one point in his sermon, he talked about the people in our lives who took the time to reach out to us and share with us stories about how God was at work in their lives, people who welcomed us into the Church and supported us in our journeys with Christ.  In his sermon that evening, Bishop Curry told us, “None of us would be here tonight if it weren’t for the evangelists in our lives.”

He was absolutely right.

Think about it for a moment.

For those of us who didn’t grow up in the church—myself included—where would we be if it weren’t for that person who invited us to attend a worship service or to help out with a ministry at church? Where would we be without that person who said to us, “Come and see”?

Even if you were born into the Christian faith and never left the Church, I’m sure there are still people who supported you along the way and served as examples of how to walk with Jesus.

This is why the ministry of evangelism is so important and why we don’t need to be afraid to talk about it. There are so many people beyond our walls who are hungry for good news and searching for a place where they can truly feel loved and accepted.

St. Mary’s can be that community. And, if we’re ready and willing to step out of our comfort zones and extend the invitation, we have the ability to help change lives.

Through our baptism in Christ, we’ve been anointed by the Holy Spirit to do this work. In the words of the prophet Isaiah, we’ve been anointed “to bring good news to the poor, “to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free,” and “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

“Come and see,” Jesus says. This is the invitation Jesus has for each of us, but it’s also the invitation Jesus has for us to share with the world. Amen.

A Sermon for the First Sunday after the Epiphany: The Baptism of our Lord
January 8, 2023

Text: Matthew 3:13-17

Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Good morning, St. Mary’s! I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to say those words. In some ways, I think I’ve been waiting my whole life, as if God has been leading me and my family—and all of us—to this very moment.

My wife, Chelsea, and I have been talking a lot during this whole transition process about how much all of this just feels right. Do you know what I mean by that? Have you ever had that feeling where everything just seems to fall into place in the way it was meant to be?

That’s what this whole experience has felt like for our family, and a lot of that is because of you and the amount of love and support you’ve already shown us since we accepted the call to come back home to Andalusia and to serve here at St. Mary’s.

It feels right to be here, in this time and in this place, and it feels really good to be back home. They say that “home is where the heart is,” and I can tell you, my brothers and sisters, that our hearts are already filled with an overwhelming sense of joy and peace in being here with you.

So, thank you for going through this time of discernment with us. Thank you for listening for God’s voice and for trusting in the process. Thank you for your generous hospitality and for welcoming us into your parish family. We’re so excited to begin this new journey with you and to see where the Holy Spirit leads us in our shared ministries together.

Today marks the beginning of something new here at St. Mary’s—a new chapter, full of new hopes and new possibilities—and to me, it seems especially appropriate on our first Sunday together that we hear the story of our Lord’s baptism at the River Jordan.

In our Gospel lesson this morning from Matthew—which immediately follows the proclamation of John the Baptist, foretelling the coming of the Messiah—Jesus makes his way from Galilee, seeking to be baptized by John. At first, John is hesitant to comply with Jesus’ request, but Jesus responds, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”

So, John baptizes Jesus, and as he’s coming up out of the water, he sees the heavens open up and the Spirit of the Lord descending upon him like a dove, and he hears a voice from heaven declare, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

I have to admit that I’ve always been a little puzzled by this part of Jesus’ life.

Because if Jesus is the Messiah—the anointed one, and if he’s truly who we claim him to be—the Son of God, then why on earth would he need to be baptized?

Why would he have to go through the same ritual we go through for the forgiveness of sins and the hope of everlasting life with God?

Well, the truth is that Jesus didn’t need to receive the baptism of John.

And he didn’t ask to be baptized to impress anyone or to gain anything for himself. Quite the opposite.

Jesus made the choice to be baptized for us.

He humbled himself and submitted to the ritual cleansing of baptism in order to show us that the life of faith in God begins with a choice.

God gives us the freedom to choose how we’ll live our lives.

Will we live only for ourselves? Or, will we recognize the fact that we were created in God’s image in order to serve a higher purpose?

Will we be so consumed with our own wellbeing that we ignore the needs and concerns of those around us? Or, will we recognize the fact that we’re all connected and that each of us is worthy of God’s love and grace?

These are the questions we must ask ourselves, over and over again, because the life of faith really is the journey of a lifetime. And it all begins with Baptism.

Through the waters of Baptism, we are buried with Christ in his death and raised to newness of life. Baptism is our way of responding to God’s love for us and saying “yes” to God’s call. When we make the choice to be baptized (or when that choice is made on our behalf as infants and young children), what we’re really doing is making a promise to live our lives a particular way—to follow in the way of Jesus—the way of self-giving, sacrificial love.

Jesus demonstrates this kind of love throughout his entire life and ministry, and all of it begins with his baptism at the Jordan River.

The story of Jesus’ baptism always reminds me of my own, which actually took place several years ago at the beginning of my senior year at Auburn. Chelsea and I had been attending St. Dunstan’s Episcopal Church for about a year when Father Wells, the priest at the time, discovered that I had never been baptized.

One evening, he asked me if I would be interested in being baptized at the annual beach retreat in September, and I quickly responded by saying, “Yes, I would love to be baptized.”

Having grown up without being involved in church or being connected to a faith community, I had always felt that there was something important missing from my life, but when Chelsea and I first discovered St. Dunstan’s and the Episcopal Church, that feeling quickly began to fade. As soon as we walked through those tall, red doors of the church, we knew we had found something special at St. Dunstan’s. We had found a spiritual home and a place where could truly belong. And, most importantly, we found a group of people who opened their arms to us, who loved us and accepted us for who we were, no questions asked.

Well, the time for the beach retreat finally came. We drove down to Fort Morgan, Alabama, over Labor Day weekend and spent the entire time playing games; having epic dance parties; participating in deep, meaningful conversations; and getting to know each other a little better. On Sunday morning, we woke up early and got ready for the baptism service. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and the emerald green waters of the gulf were particularly clear. We gathered together on the beach for worship, and when the time came for the baptism part of the service, we waded out into the water together carrying old, tattered copies of the Prayer Book. All of our friends from church surrounded me and Father Wells in a large circle, and in that moment, I felt God’s love in a way that I had never experienced before. For the first time in my life, I felt as though I had ben lifted up and called to fulfill a greater purpose.

On that day, I was baptized in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever. It was truly, as St. Paul might say, a “fullness of time” moment—a moment when God’s presence became as close as a breath to me and to everyone else who was there.

I wanted to share this story with you today for a couple of reasons.

First, I want you to know who I am and where I’ve been, and the story of my baptism is an important part of that. It was the beginning of my journey with Christ, and it changed my life in more ways than I could’ve ever imagined.

But the second reason is even more important.

I want you to know that, through the sacrament of Baptism, we are all connected as members of Christ’s Body, and we all share in Christ’s eternal priesthood. What that means is that, yes, I wear a collar and have a specific role to play as a priest in the Church. But, all of us, by virtue of our baptism in Christ, are called to work together in the building up of God’s Kingdom. Clergy aren’t any more important than the laity. We all have a part to play in the work we’ve been called to do as the Body of Christ.

I know the past few years have been challenging, especially with the absence of a full-time priest and the limitations caused by the pandemic. Many of you have already shared with me your concerns and frustrations. But, you’ve also shared with me your hopes and dreams for the future of St. Mary’s, which tells me that you’re eager and excited to begin something new.

I’m excited as well, and I’m so thankful to begin this new journey with you. I truly believe that our parish is at a point now where we can begin to experience new life and new growth. My challenge for you—on this First Sunday after the Epiphany—is to begin thinking about how the Spirit may be leading you to serve. What are some new ways that you can give your time to St. Mary’s? What are some ways that you can volunteer so that the love of God in Christ may be known to even more people in our community? I encourage you to carry these questions with you in prayer, and if you need someone to talk to about it, I’m happy to help.

In a few moments, we’re going to take some time to renew the solemn vows and promises which we made in Baptism. I think it’s a wonderful way for us to begin our ministry together. As we come to each part of the Baptismal Covenant, remember this statement:

We’re in this together. 

Say that with me. We’re in this together. You and I, priest and parish, clergy and laity—called by God to work together for the sake of the Gospel. We are the beloved of God, and each of us has been empowered by the Holy Spirit to share God’s love with the world. May God grant us the strength, courage, and wisdom we need to remain faithful in our calling. Amen.

A Sermon for Good Friday
April 15, 2022

Text: John 18:1-19:42

Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak with them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

During the evening hours of November 14, 1940, Nazi Germany sent more than five hundred bombers to raid the English city of Coventry. “The Coventry Blitz”, as it’s often called, lasted over ten hours, leaving more than five hundred dead, 2,300 homes destroyed, and the town’s Gothic cathedral in ruins.

During the raid, many people in the town worked hard to try and save the cathedral from being totally lost in the flames, but they were unsuccessful. In the end, the only parts of the building still standing were the tower, the spire, and the outer wall. Everything else burned to the ground.

In the aftermath of the attack, the Provost of Coventry Cathedral, the Very Reverend Richard Howard, had two words inscribed on the wall behind the altar of the ruined building.

“Father, forgive.”

Notice that the inscription wasn’t “Father, forgive them.” Just “Father, forgive.” The Provost realized in that moment that the only way to break the endless cycle of violence and retribution was to choose love over hate. He made a commitment, not to seek revenge against those who were responsible for the bombing, but to seek peace and reconciliation. He understood that the only way to move forward was to acknowledge the fact that all of us are in need of forgiveness. All of us, no matter who we are or what we’ve done or left undone, need to be forgiven.

Coventry Cathedral was eventually rebuilt, but the ruins of the old, Gothic structure still remain to this day. Behind the altar lies a cross that was made out of two burned, wooden beams from the fallen building, and on the wall, directly behind the cross, are the words, “Father, forgive” etched in stone—a solemn reminder of the commitment made long ago to seek forgiveness over vengeance.

In the years that’ve passed since the end of World War II, the cathedral has become an international symbol of reconciliation. The words, “Father, forgive” are now used as the response in a Litany of Reconciliation that’s prayed at noon every weekday at the cathedral. The litany serves as a reminder to all of us that when we pray for the needs and concerns of the world around us, we also need to pray for ourselves, to confess that we’ve fallen short of our own call to love and serve, including those who’ve hurt us and caused us pain.

My brothers and sisters, that’s what it means to walk the way of the cross with Jesus—to empty one’s self and to strip away those things in our lives that are weighing us down and keeping us from experiencing true joy and true peace with God.

Our natural response to those who hurt us is to hurt them right back. We want them to suffer just as much as we’ve suffered. We want them to pay for the harm they’ve inflicted upon us. “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” as we read in the Hebrew Scriptures. But, Jesus teaches us another way, a more loving and compassionate way. Jesus teaches us to choose love over hate—to forgive even our worst enemies.

That’s a tall order, isn’t it?

If you’re like me, it’s much easier to hang on to hatred and resentment than to forgive those who’ve caused so much pain and suffering in the world. On this Good Friday, in particular, I can’t help but think about the modern-day atrocities being committed in Ukraine. How can we, as people of faith, possibly forgive those who are responsible for bringing such violence and destruction to a country that simply wants to live in peace? How can we possibly love those who seek to kill innocent people? 

Where do we even begin?

To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure. But, I do know one thing.

Jesus is the way.

In those moments when we’re unsure of where we’re going or what we’re being called to do, Jesus is the way.

In those moments when fear begins to creep in and all hope seems lost, Jesus is the way.

In those moments when the pain and suffering of the world seem too much to bear, Jesus is the way.

As Christians, we put all our hope and all our faith in the one who laid down his life for us and offered himself as a sacrifice for the whole world. We put all our hope and all our faith in the one who teaches us that the way of the cross—the way of self-giving, sacrificial love—is the path to new and abundant life with God.

Through our Lord’s passion and death, we’ve come to know what perfect love looks like.

In John’s account of the passion narrative, which we heard just a few moments ago, Jesus is arrested and taken to Pilate’s headquarters, where he’s given every opportunity to tell the Roman governor exactly what he wants to hear. Pilate has the power to save him from the cross. He even says to Jesus at one point, “Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?”

All Jesus has to do is give up and admit he’s made a terrible mistake in challenging the way things are. All he has to do is surrender to the fear and say, “This is a burden too heavy for one man to bear.” But, Jesus refuses to walk away. He knows what he must do. Rather than choosing to save himself from the pain and degradation of the cross, Jesus keeps going, all the way to Calvary.

And, he dies so that we may live.

Maybe through this holy mystery of our Lord’s passion and death, we can begin to understand the importance of giving up our selves so that others may come to know the love of God in Christ through us.

Maybe that’s how we learn to forgive, even our worst enemies—by remembering the sacrifice Jesus made on our behalf. This isn’t a day of mourning. It’s a day for reconciliation, a day when we’re invited to gather up all the fears and concerns of the world around us and offer them up to God, trusting that, even now, God is making all things new.

In closing, I’d like for us to pray the Litany of Reconciliation from Coventry Cathedral. While we pray the litany,  remember the cross of Christ and the sacrifice Jesus made for all of us. Hold in your hearts the people of this world who suffer from any fear of violence, oppression, and discrimination. Think about the people in your lives who need to be forgiven, and consider the ways in which you also need to be forgiven. I’ll say each line of the litany, and in response, we’ll say together, “Father forgive.”

Let us pray.   

All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.

The hatred which divides nation from nation, race from race, class from class,
Father, forgive.

The covetous desires of people and nations to possess what is not their own,
Father, forgive.

The greed which exploits the work of human hands and lays waste the earth,
Father, forgive.

Our envy of the welfare and happiness of others,
Father, forgive.

Our indifference to the plight of the imprisoned, the homeless, the refugee,
Father, forgive.

The lust which dishonours the bodies of men, women and children,
Father, forgive.

The pride which leads us to trust in ourselves and not in God,
Father, forgive.

Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you.

Amen.

A Sermon for Maundy Thursday
April 14, 2022

Text: John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak with them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

In one of the daily meditations I’ve been reading during Lent, I was recently reminded of a phrase that is so simple, yet so profound. “Let go, and let God.”

Have you ever heard that saying before? You probably have at one time or another. I’ve heard it countless times, but up until recently, I didn’t know where it actually came from. I was surprised to discover that it originated in Alcoholics Anonymous and is a paraphrase of the third step in the twelve-step process to recovery.

These twelve steps, by the way, are listed and discussed in great detail in a book that’s commonly referred to as “The Big Book,” which was originally published in 1939. It’s the primary text for those in recovery, and its purpose is to share how the first hundred people who participated in the program came to be sober. The third step states that they “made a decision to turn [their] will and [their] lives over to the care of God as [they] understood Him.”

In other words, those first hundred souls in A.A. who successfully found a way to move forward in their lives, despite the debilitating challenges they faced, made the choice to “Let go, and let God.” They made the choice to to let go of their need for control and allow God to bring healing and wholeness in their lives.

Now, I’m not an alcoholic, and thankfully, I’ve never had to participate in any form of twelve-step program. I’ve never known what it feels like to suffer through an addiction.

But, I do know what it feels like to suffer pain. And, I know what it feels like to be desperate for healing.

It’s something we all share. All of us, no matter who we are or what we’ve experienced in our lives, know what it feels like to be trapped under the weight of our own suffering and desperate for healing and renewal. If you think about it for a moment, you can probably come up with a whole list of ways that you or those around you have experienced pain or loss.

Perhaps you’ve known what it feels like to experience the sudden death of a loved one and struggled to cope with the overwhelming grief that follows.

Perhaps you’ve known what it feels like to come to the end of a broken relationship and struggled to move on.

Perhaps you’ve known what it feels like to have a crisis of faith and struggled to find God in the midst of it all.

Perhaps you’ve known what hopelessness feels like and struggled to find a sense of purpose in your life.

Or, perhaps you’ve known what it feels like to hurt someone you love and struggled to forgive yourself for the pain you’ve caused.

If you’ve experienced any of these things or if any of them sound remotely familiar, you’re not alone. The good news, dear friends, is that God has the power to redeem our suffering, to take the broken and shattered pieces of our lives and make us whole again. It may not happen in the ways we expect, and it may not happen as quickly as we would like, but God is always there, working in us and through us in more ways than we can imagine. God has the power to raise us up, to bring us out of death into new and abundant life with God.

That’s what the next three days are all about.

The time between Maundy Thursday and the Great Vigil of Easter on Saturday night—which we often refer to as the Triduum Sacrum (meaning “three sacred days”)—is holy time. It’s the time when we take special care to remember in full detail exactly what it is that God did for us and what God continues to do for us through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Over the next three days, we’ll be reminded once again of the great lengths God will take in order to restore us and make us whole again.

But, in order for God to redeem our suffering and bring healing and wholeness to our lives, we have to be willing, as they say, to “let go, and let God.”

Or, to put it another way, we have to be willing to let go of those things in our lives that are standing between us and God and allow God’s redeeming love, like the waters of baptism, to wash over us and make us new.

What is it that you need to let go of in order to experience new life with God?

Maybe you’re like Peter in our Gospel lesson this evening from John, who struggles with “letting go and letting God” by refusing to have his feet washed by Jesus. When Jesus comes to Peter to wash his feet, Peter says to him, “You will never wash my feet.” In the back of his mind, he might’ve thought to himself, “That’s the work of a house servant. Jesus can’t wash my feet. That would be out of line and socially unacceptable.”

But, Jesus says to Peter, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”

Jesus is urging Peter to let go. “Let go, Peter,” Jesus might’ve whispered into his ear. “Let go of what you think you know. Let go of what’s holding you back. Open your heart to new ideas and new possibilities. See that I’m about to do a new thing. Allow me to wash your feet. Learn from my example. Love and serve others as I’ve taught you to do. By this, everyone will know that you are my disciple.”

In order to share in the servant ministry of Christ and learn what it means to love as God loves, Peter must first let go and allow himself to experience God’s love firsthand.

So, I ask you again. What is it that you need to let go of? What is it that you need to leave at the foot of the cross in order for God to do a new thing in your life? I invite you and encourage you to consider this question, especially as we continue our walk with Christ over the next few days. With God, new life is always possible, but in order to experience it, we must first be willing to “let go, and let God.” Amen.

A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (Year C)
January 30, 2022

Text: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13

I speak to you in the name of our loving, liberating, and life-giving God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Have you ever seen those short, black and white, “Coffee with Jesus” comic strips on Facebook? Do you know the ones I’m talking about? If you’re not on Facebook or you have no idea what I’m talking about, that’s okay. But, if you are on Facebook and friends with at least a few other Episcopalians, you might’ve come across these at some point. These short comics feature a modern-day Jesus with long, dark hair and a beard. He’s usually pictured wearing a suit and tie and holding a cup of coffee while he has a casual conversation with one or two other characters.

New comic strips come out every few days or so and are created by a group called Radio Free Babylon. They’re usually light-hearted and funny, but they also tend to be very thought-provoking, using humor and sarcasm to illustrate deep, theological points about God and our relationship with God.

A few years ago, I came across a particular “Coffee with Jesus” that’s stuck with me until now, mostly because of the title. It was called, “Jesus Isn’t Your Mascot.” In the short comic strip, Jesus is having a chat with a friendly priest named Joe.  

At the beginning of the comic, Father Joe says to Jesus, “I want my people to be rooted, in touch, involved Jesus. I’m seeing a lot of…how do I put this…superficiality.”

Jesus replies to Joe, “Let’s do a football-themed sermon for Super Bowl Sunday, Joe. ‘Jesus Isn’t Your Mascot.’”

Father Joe then begins to rattle off some potential one-liners that he might use in a football-themed sermon, saying, “‘He’s the quarterback, coach, recruiter, and GM! He’s the Greatest of All Time!’” 

Continuing on, Jesus says to Joe, “‘And he wants you on the team and in the game.’ Man, this thing is writing itself.”

See what I mean? Funny but also thought-provoking.

“Jesus isn’t your mascot.” That’s a great line, isn’t it? I think what the writers of the comic strip were trying to convey is that Jesus wants his followers to be more than just fans watching the game from the sidelines. Jesus wants us to be “all in,” committed to the work we’ve been called to do in the building up God’s Kingdom. He wants us to be active participants in our faith, living our lives each day according to his commandments. It’s one thing for us to say that we love and follow Jesus; it’s another thing entirely for us to demonstrate our love for Jesus by loving others the same way he loves us.

In our readings for today, we heard that beautiful and poetic passage from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians that many of us know so well, especially those of us who’ve been to our fair share of church weddings over the years. Paul writes in his first letter to the church in Corinth, “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.”

I really do love this passage from 1 Corinthians, and I’m so thankful that it shows up in our Sunday lectionary. Not only does it hold a special meaning for me and for all those who’ve used it in their wedding ceremonies, but it also speaks to us about the love of God and the particular kind of love that God calls us to share with our brothers and sisters.

In the Greek-speaking world of the first century, there were actually several words that could be used to describe the different forms of love. There were four, in particular. The first type of love was storge, or family love. You might describe this kind of love as the love that siblings share with each other or the love that children have for their parents.

The second type of love was eros, or romantic love. This is the love shared between two people when they claim to be “in love” with each other.

The third type of love was philia, also known as brotherly love. You might think of this as the kind of love that two close friends would share, the kind of love that produces deep bonds of affection.

And, the last type of love was agape, or Godly love. Agape love is the kind of love that Jesus demonstrated on the cross when he laid down his life for all of us. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t come naturally because it requires us to give up ourselves for “the other,” to think not only of our own well-being but also for the well-being of others. It’s the kind of love that is self-giving, not self-serving. The author of John’s Gospel used the word agape when he wrote these well-known words of Jesus: “For God so loved the world—for God so agaped the world—that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believed in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

I’m sorry if this disappoints you, but in our lesson this morning from 1 Corinthians, Paul isn’t writing about romantic love, like we might assume based upon its popularity during wedding season. And, he isn’t writing about family love or brotherly love, either. He’s writing about agape love. He’s writing about the unconditional, sacrificial love of God that all of us are called to share with the world, a love that has the power to tear down any walls that might divide us. With that kind of love in mind, listen to the passage again, and consider what it might mean for those of us who’ve made the choice to follow Jesus and pattern our lives on his teaching: “Agape is patient; agape is kind; agape is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. Agape does not insist on its own way; agape is not irritable or resentful; agape does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. Agape bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Agape never ends.”

In his book, The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis describes agape love (or charity, as he preferred to call it) as the highest level of love known to humanity—a selfless love, a love that is passionately committed to the well being of “the other.” Agape love doesn’t discriminate, and it seeks nothing in return. It’s a love that knows no boundaries or limits, a love that is open to every person. No questions asked. 

Jesus isn’t our mascot, but he is the example that we strive to imitate, our master teacher. He is “the way, the truth, and the life,” and through his ministry and example, we know what it means to be loved unconditionally by God. Jesus wants us “on the team” and “in the game.” He doesn’t want us to passively sit back and watch as others do all the work for us. He wants us—all of us, here and now—to join him in bringing agape love, the unconditional, self-giving love of God, to this broken world in which we live.

I want to leave you this morning with the words to the ancient, Latin hymn, Ubi caritas, which is traditionally sung on the night of Maundy Thursday—the Thursday before Easter—to remind us of the servant ministry of Christ. I think it’s especially appropriate today as we consider what it means to live in agape love, to live in charity, as Jesus has taught us. May these words give us wisdom and strength, and may they be our prayer as we go forth into the world to love and serve others.

Let us pray:

Where charity and love are, God is there.
Christ’s love has gathered us into one.
Let us rejoice and be pleased in Him.
Let us fear, and let us love the living God.
And may we love each other with a sincere heart.

Where charity and love are, God is there.
As we are gathered into one body,
Beware, lest we be divided in mind.
Let evil impulses stop, let controversy cease,
And may Christ our God be in our midst.

Where charity and love are, God is there.
And may we with the saints also,
See Thy face in glory, O Christ our God:
The joy that is immense and good,
Unto the ages through infinite ages.

Amen.

A Sermon for the First Sunday after the Epiphany: The Baptism of our Lord
January 9, 2022

Text: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

I speak to you in the name of our loving, liberating, and life-giving God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Two weeks ago, on the day after Christmas, the world mourned as we said goodbye to Archbishop Desmond Tutu. The archbishop was ninety years old when he passed away at his home in Cape Town. As most of you probably know already, Desmond Tutu was an instrumental figure in the struggle to tear down the system of apartheid in South Africa, which finally came to an end in the early 1990s. He was also an advocate for peaceful reconciliation in the years that followed. Under the leadership of Nelson Mandela, Archbishop Tutu served as the chairman of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which was established in order to bring healing to the country and offer a way forward. He was committed to the idea of restorative justice and believed that the only path to true peace and reconciliation—after decades of violence and oppression under apartheid—was by seeking the truth and offering forgiveness to those who were responsible.

Even though he’s no longer with us, I’m so thankful for the life and ministry of Desmond Tutu and for all he taught us about how to love others and offer mercy in the name of Jesus Christ. Our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry, offered these words shortly after his death: “While on this earth, he sought to follow Jesus of Nazareth in God’s way of love and life. In so doing, he showed us how to live God’s dream as children of the one God and creator of all. So, even in our sorrow that he is no longer walking among us, we can thank God that he did.”

I’ll always remember Desmond Tutu as the first person who taught me, through his writing, that all of us—no matter who we are or what we’ve done or left undone—are completely and unconditionally loved by the God who created us. We were loved into being and formed in the image and likeness of God. In his book, Made for Goodness—which he co-authored with his daughter, Mpho—the archbishop wrote, “From the time before eternity our God has awaited each birth with love and delight. ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you’ is the word of God to the Hebrew prophet Jeremiah. It is equally God’s word to each of us. Before the ‘Let there be…’ of creation, before God breathed Adam’s first breath, God knew us and God loved us. God loves each of us as though there were no one else in the world, as though there were only one person to love. We are so precious to God that, as Jesus reminds us in the pages of Matthew’s Gospel, ‘even the hairs of your head are all counted.’”

It’s almost unimaginable, isn’t it, that God loves us so perfectly and so completely, without reservation or condition. Our whole lives, we’ve been taught that, in order to succeed in life and be loved by others, we have to earn it. We have to do certain things or behave a certain way or change our appearance in order to be loved and accepted by those around us.

But, not with God. We are God’s beloved, God’s possession—loved from before time and forevermore. In our lesson this morning from Isaiah, the prophet writes, “Thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” In other words, dear friends, God has claimed each of us as his own, and there’s nothing we can do or say that will ever change that.

Today is the First Sunday after the Epiphany, the day when we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord. On this day, we recall the story of our Lord’s baptism at the Jordan River by John the Baptist. It’s important that we take time to remember this part of Jesus’ life. Not only does it signal the beginning of his public ministry, but I think it also helps us better understand the significance of baptism and the role it plays in our journey with Christ.

In today’s Gospel reading, soon after Jesus receives the baptism of John, the heavens are opened and the Holy Spirit descends upon him in the form of a dove. Then, Jesus hears a voice from heaven say to him, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

On the surface, this passage could easily be interpreted as God’s response to Jesus and his decision to be baptized.  When you consider the order of events, the voice from heaven doesn’t call out to Jesus until after he’s baptized.

But, I don’t see it that way. I don’t see this passage as a response from God, as if God’s love for Jesus somehow depends upon whether or not he’s baptized. Rather, I see it as an acknowledgement—a declaration from heaven—claiming Jesus as God’s own. I see it as God’s way of saying to Jesus, “I’ve known you and loved you since before time, and I’ll continue to know you and love you forever.” Jesus’ baptism is an acknowledgement of something that began long before he ever made the choice to be baptized.

We often think of Baptism as something we do in the Church that changes us in some way, and I think that’s true. Baptism is the sacrament of new birth. In the water of Baptism, we are buried with Christ in his death. By it, we share in his resurrection. Through it, we are reborn by the Holy Spirit. We are changed in the sense that the old way of sin and death has passed away and a new creation has been raised up.

But, in another sense, we’re the same as we always have been. Since before time, we were known and loved by God. Baptism is a way for us to acknowledge our belovedness and make the choice to live more fully into who God created us to be as God’s children. This is why the liturgy for Baptism includes a series of questions and answers for those who are choosing to be baptized and why we join with them in renewing our own baptismal vows. They help guide us and keep us on track. They remind us of who we are as the beloved of God. They remind us, in the words of Desmond Tutu, that we were “made for goodness.”

In just a few moments, we’ll take some time to renew the solemn vows and promises of Holy Baptism. As you say the words, think about the voice from heaven who spoke to Jesus, saying, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” That same voice continues to speak to each of us, calling us by name into a deeper and more meaningful relationship with God.

I’d like to end my sermon this morning by sharing with you some final words from Desmond Tutu. These words come from the last two pages of his book, Made for Goodness, and are written from the perspective of God, speaking to his beloved—

You are my child,
My beloved.
With you I am well pleased.
Stand beside me and see yourself,
Borrow my eyes so you can see perfectly.
When you look with my eyes then you will see
That the wrong you have done and the good left undone,
The words you have said that should not have been spoken,
The words you should have spoken but left unsaid,
The hurts you have caused,
The help you’ve not given
Are not the whole of the story of you.
You are not defined by what you did not achieve.
Your worth is not determined by success.
You were priceless before you drew your first breath,
Beautiful before dress or artifice,
Good at the core.

And now is time for unveiling
The goodness that is hidden behind the fear of failing.
You shout down your impulse to kindness in case it is shunned,
You suck in your smile,
You smother your laughter,
You hold back the hand that would help.
You crush your indignation
When you see people wronged or in pain
In case all you can do is not enough,
In case you cannot fix the fault,
In case you cannot soothe the searing,
In case you cannot make it right.
What does it matter if you do not make it right?
What does it matter if your efforts move no mountains?
It matters not at all.
It only matters that you live the truth of you.
It only matters that you push back the veil to let your goodness shine through.
It only matters that you live as I have made you.
It only matters that you are made for me,
Made like me,
Made for goodness.

Amen.

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A video of this sermon can be found by clicking on the link below, beginning at the 20:50 mark.

https://www.facebook.com/holyspiritalabaster/videos/1103164360501619

A Sermon for the Epiphany of our Lord Jesus Christ
Thursday, January 6, 2022

Text: Matthew 2:1-12

I speak to you in the name of our loving, liberating, and life-giving God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Back in November, a new exhibit opened up at the convention center in downtown Birmingham, featuring the work of the renowned Dutch painter, Vincent Van Gogh. Some of you may have heard about it or saw it advertised. It was entitled, “Beyond Van Gogh: An Immersive Experience.” When it was first announced that the traveling exhibit would be coming to Birmingham, it was described as a “sensory extravaganza,” a way for participants to immerse themselves in the work of Van Gogh and experience it in a way they never have before through the use of video projectors, narrations, and music.

After it opened, I started seeing countless friends on Facebook post pictures and offer glowing reviews of their time at the exhibit. So, as a surprise Christmas gift to Chelsea, I decided to purchase tickets for us to go and experience it for ourselves. And, I’m so glad I did, because we both had a wonderful time.

When we arrived, the first thing we walked through was the Education Room, which featured a series of displays, offering various quotes from Van Gogh’s writing and interesting bits of information about his life and body of work. Then, we came to the Waterfall Room, which featured beautiful, cascading lights and colors and served as a segue between the Education Room and the main part of the exhibit—the Immersion Room.

In the Immersion Room, Van Gogh’s art came to life, and we were captivated. Not only were his paintings projected on the walls and floor, but they also featured motion and animation. Each scene flowed together beautifully with seamless transitions. In this room, we got to see over three hundred of Van Gogh’s paintings, everything from self-portraits and colorful flowers to beautiful landscapes and his most iconic works.

Perhaps our favorite part of the presentation came toward the end when everything around us faded into a dark, evening sky, and Van Gogh’s Starry Night began to appear. At first, it appeared as nothing more than a series of swirling waves of yellow light, moving in a circular motion. Then, gradually, after a few moments of waiting, the features of Van Gogh’s painting came into full focus. Everything was there that we’ve come to know and love about Starry Night. If you’re familiar with the work and you close your eyes, you can probably picture it.

The stark contrast between the blue, swirling sky and the village beneath it.

The moon and the white and gold stars, which seem to almost radiate with circular waves of light.

The church in the center of the village with its spire reaching toward heaven and the tall, cypress tree standing in the foreground.

The experience of seeing it so full of life and feeling as though we were standing inside this strange but beautiful world that the artist created was a very special moment for both of us, one that we won’t soon forget.

Earlier this week, as I was reading our Gospel lesson for this evening, I couldn’t help to stop and think about the experience of seeing Van Gogh’s masterpiece come to life and wonder if that’s what it might have been like—at least to some degree—for those wise men from the East who traveled great distances to visit and pay homage to the newborn King in Bethlehem. I couldn’t help to stop and think about the swirling night sky and the motion of the stars in the painting and wonder if those visitors from far away might’ve witnessed something similar when they saw that great star in the sky and dared to step out and follow it to unknown lands. I wonder if their experience of being led by the star might’ve felt a bit like stepping into a strange new world, full of new hope and new possibilities.

I wonder, because it seems to me that those three wise men must have been captivated by what they witnessed in the night sky. Why else would they have followed? Perhaps it was much more than what we often see depicted in scenes of the Nativity—just a single, solitary star, standing completely still. Perhaps it appeared to them as swirling waves of light, full of life and motion, directing them where to go.

Or, maybe I’m letting my imagination go wild. I’m not sure.

But, I like to think that the God we worship is a God who is always in a state of motion, leading us to where we’re being called to go as God’s people. We see examples of this all throughout the Scriptures, especially in the life and ministry of Jesus, who never stays in the same place for any long period of time. Jesus and his disciples are always on the move, traveling from place to place, spreading the Good News of God’s redeeming love.

To me, that’s why the Feast of the Epiphany is so important. It reminds us that God’s love is always on the move, leading us to places and people we might least expect. On this feast day, we celebrate the love of God in Christ breaking forth into the world so that all who come to know and love him may experience the abundant life that God desires for all of us—not just some of us. So, like those wise men from the East who followed the star to Bethlehem and dared to step out and venture into the unknown, let us be renewed in our commitment to walk in faith, trusting that God is always moving with us. Amen.

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A video of this sermon can be found by clicking on the link below, beginning at the 25:00 mark.

https://www.facebook.com/holyspiritalabaster/videos/1870170363179357

A Sermon for the Nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ
Friday, December 24, 2021

Text: Luke 2:1-20

I speak to you in the name of our loving, liberating, and life-giving God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

A couple of weeks ago, Chelsea and I had the opportunity to finally do something we’ve been talking about doing for quite some time. We went to the historic, Alabama Theater in downtown Birmingham to watch a Christmas movie, just the two of us. This wasn’t just any Christmas movie, though. This was the beloved holiday classic, It’s a Wonderful Life, which celebrated its 75th anniversary this past Monday. It’s been seventy-five years since audiences first experienced the story of George Bailey, the main protagonist of the film and a character who serves as an example of self-giving, sacrificial love. On more than one occasion, George puts his own dreams and hopes for the future aside in order to help those around him, including friends, family members, and other members of the community.

Throughout the film, we learn that George lives a fairly comfortable life. He’s married to a woman who loves him very much, and he has four, beautiful children. He has a roof over his head, food on the dinner table, and a job with a steady income. But, as the film progresses, we learn that George’s life in Bedford Falls isn’t perfect.

Eventually, some unfortunate things start to happen. One day, Billy Bailey, George’s uncle, who works with him at the Building and Loan, goes to the bank in order to deposit a large sum of money. Billy becomes distracted and loses the money he’s supposed to deposit. When George finds out, he becomes infuriated, and in a moment of fear and desperation, he crawls to Mr. Potter, the head of the bank, to ask him for a loan to cover the missing deposit. The only thing George has to offer Mr. Potter as collateral for the loan is an insurance policy worth $15,000. The cruel banker laughs in George’s face and tells him, “You’re worth more dead than alive.” Then, he tells George that he’s calling the police to let them know about the missing money.

Well, if you’ve seen the film before, you’re already familiar with what happens next. This is where things start to get really interesting. George flees the bank and runs to a local bar. Feeling alone and afraid, he prays for God to send help but ends up getting even more frustrated and angry when he doesn’t receive the help that he wanted.

George is at the end of his rope. So, he goes to a nearby bridge in order to end his life, and just as he’s getting ready to jump off the bridge into the river, his guardian angel, Clarence, intervenes and jumps into the river first. Of course, George is unaware of who Clarence really is, but when he sees him struggling in the water, he jumps in and saves Clarence from drowning.

Later on, as the two are drying their clothes, Clarence reveals his identity to George. Of course, George doesn’t believe the angel, at least not at first. As the two continue their conversation, George comes to the conclusion that the people in his life would be better off without him. He makes a wish and tells Clarence, “I wish I’d never been born.” George’s wish sparks an idea with Clarence, and he decides to grant George’s wish. “Okay, you’ve got your wish,” Clarence says. “You’ve never been born.” George is given a very special gift—the chance to see what life in his hometown would be like if he had never existed. What follows is a series of unpleasant encounters for George. The people closest to him no longer know who he is, and for most of them, their lives have been dramatically changed by having never known George. George learns that his younger brother, Harry, died at a very early age because he wasn’t there to save his life. The pharmacist, Mr. Gower, was sent to prison because George wasn’t there to stop him from unintentionally poisoning a child. George’s mother tells him that his uncle was institutionalized after the Building and Loan failed, and George’s wife, Mary, is working at the local library, all alone with no family. All of this is too much for George to handle. Finally, he comes to realize that, even though his life isn’t perfect, it’s better to live than to have never existed at all. He comes to realize that he does have a purpose in life.

So, he prays to God once again. Only this time, he prays for God to give him his life back. “Please God,” George prays, “Let me live again.”

George’s life is restored, and everything is as it was before. Excited and relieved, George runs home, expecting to be arrested for the missing money. What happens instead is a miracle. People from all over town, people whose lives have been touched by George, start showing up to the Bailey household carrying as much money as they can find to help out their friend. The last one to show up is George’s younger brother, Harry—the one he saved—who shares a toast and says, “To my brother, George—the richest man in town!”

Of course, Harry isn’t talking about the unexpected sum of money that shows up on George’s doorstep. He’s talking about George’s life—and everything that makes George who he is. In the film’s final moments, George’s youngest daughter, Zuzu, hears bells ringing on the Christmas tree, and she says to her father, “Look Daddy! Teacher says, ‘Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.’” George smiles, knowing that his friend, Clarence, finally got his wings, and everyone begins singing the song, “Auld Lang Syne,” as they celebrate Christmas together. It’s perhaps one of the most touching finales to a movie that’s ever been made, and it brings tears to my eyes every time I see it.

Frank Capra, the director of It’s a Wonderful Life, considered it his favorite film that he ever directed. The movie is listed by the American Film Institute as the eleventh best film ever made and number one on their list of the most inspirational movies of all time.

Now, I should stop here for a moment and remind you that the movie is a work of fiction and probably not the most accurate depiction of angels or the way that God moves in our lives. For example, I don’t think that angels  have to “earn their wings” by doing good deeds or that angels are really just human beings who died a long time ago and were resurrected as heavenly messengers. There’s nothing in Scripture that even suggests such a thing. But, that doesn’t mean that the movie has nothing to teach us—especially during the season of Christmas.

I think the reason why the film is so powerful and why it resonates so deeply with those who watch it is because we can all relate—at least to some degree—with the character of George Bailey. All of us have things in our lives for which to be thankful, but we also know what it feels like when everything around us seems to be going wrong, when we feel like all hope is lost. We’ve all been in situations before when we stop and ask ourselves, “Does my life even matter?”

Well, I want you to know, my brothers and sisters, that it really does. Your life matters more than you may ever know. As a former priest of mine used to say all the time, “Your life is of infinite value and importance to God.” We were created—each of us—in God’s own image for a very specific purpose, and that purpose is to make the light of God in Christ Jesus known to the world.

This is the True Light, which came down from heaven and was born as one of us. The True Light, who humbled himself and took on human form in order to teach us and show us how to love others as God has called us to love. The True Light, who reminds us that, even in the darkest of times, there’s always hope.

That’s what Christmas is all about. Hope overcoming fear, light overcoming darkness, and a weary world rejoicing that God has sent us a Savior to redeem us and free us from the bondage of sin and death. All of this is beautifully captured in the first verse of the classic, Christmas hymn, “O Holy Night,” as we sing:

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth;
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
‘Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn…

In the film, It’s a Wonderful Life, a man named George Bailey reaches out to God, hoping for an answer to his prayers. What he receives is a response far greater than anything he could have expected or imagined. God shows up and reveals to George that his life is important and full of meaning.

The same is true for us now, dear friends, just as it has been and always will be. God has heard the collective prayers of God’s people and intervened by sending us the hope of the world. Jesus is the answer to our prayers, our unexpected gift, showing us that our lives matter more to God than we can possibly imagine. On this Christmas Eve night, I hope you feel wrapped up in God’s love and worthy of God’s grace. I hope you carry with you into the world a spirit of hope and the knowledge that your life is full of meaning and purpose. That purpose is to be bearers of the light so that others may come to know the redeeming love of Christ Jesus in their own lives. Amen.

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A video of this sermon can be found at the following link, beginning at the 19:10 mark.

https://www.facebook.com/91363777474/videos/1304468520003764