Author: MASadmin

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax-collection station, and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him.

And as he sat at dinner[a] in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with Jesus and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous but sinners.”

While he was saying these things to them, suddenly a leader came in and knelt before him, saying, “My daughter has just died, but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.” And Jesus got up and followed him, with his disciples. Then suddenly a woman who had been suffering from a flow of blood for twelve years came up behind him and touched the fringe of his cloak, for she was saying to herself, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.” Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.” And the woman was made well from that moment. When Jesus came to the leader’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a commotion, he said, “Go away, for the girl is not dead but sleeping.” And they laughed at him. But when the crowd had been put outside, he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up. And the report of this spread through all of that district.

Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

My sermon from the 2nd Sunday after Pentecost Sunday (June 7, 2026) on Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26.

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I’d like to start today’s sermon with a question: what does a good Christian look like? 

Now we know, based on the Bible and our own experience, that only God can hold the totality of our human story. Attempting to analyze, process, and categorize every thought, action, and even our inactions through some kind of theological framework is impossible. It’s spiritually healthy – and a bit freeing – to admit how God’s standards don’t often match our own. But I imagine that most of us might carry a mental picture of what we think a good Christian actually looks like. It’s a picture we might have purposely put together and crafted through deep study, prayer, and paying attention to our own personal histories. Yet it could also be one given to us unconsciously by others who shared this is what a good Christian looks like. Maybe the picture we hold looks like our grandmother, our uncle, or that friend who showed up for us in our time of need. Maybe that so-called Christian speaks, talks, dresses, and has the family life we wish we had instead. The good Christian is, we imagine, pure, holy, and different in ways we recognize but couldn’t fully describe. We don’t regularly compare ourselves to the picture we have of this “good Christian” because our lives are often too busy to keep constantly measuring how faithful we actually are. Yet during those moments when we see ourselves as that good Christian, we can’t help but feel a little more holy and true. The image we hold of what it looks like to follow God has a way of shaping how we read the Bible, listen to these stories, and interact with our neighbors and friends. And when someone comes along who doesn’t look, sound, or act in the ways we’d expect a good Christian to be, that picture in our heads – rather than Jesus – ends up deciding who we believe truly belongs to God. 

Now today’s reading from the gospel according to Matthew is rather short but is also very full. We begin with a call story before moving into a healing and a resurrection I wish we all experienced way more often. Jesus was, at the time, busy preaching, teaching, and healing all around the Sea of Galilee. It’s at this moment, while in the midst of his ministry, when we meet the one who the early church later decided wrote the words we just read. Matthew was a tax collector who was probably assigned to collect money based on how many fish people caught. Like I’ve shared in other sermons, the Roman Empire outsourced their tax collection services to individuals and businesses that operated like street gangs. These groups were empowered by the Romans to use violence and intimidation to get whatever the ruling authorities wanted. And so these tax collectors were seen by the community as wicked people whose occupations – and maybe even their existences – violated God’s law. They were, in the eyes of almost everyone, the complete opposite of what a faithful follower of God looked like. Yet Matthew – and so many of the other tax collectors Jesus interacted with – weren’t the business owners contracted by the Roman Empire. He was simply the grunt shaking people down for money. The Rev. Dr. Mark Allan Powell in a commentary on this passage shared how recent scholarship has noticed these tax collectors often had a very specific look about them. These men (and they were almost always men) often “had something wrong with them: mild mental challenges, speech impediments, physical deformities, and the like. They were often enslaved persons or, at least, were people who for some reason could not find work in a more desirable profession. The man called to follow Jesus was obviously not an enslaved person (since he left his position), but he was probably representative of a class of people considered pathetic, despicable, or both.” Tax collectors were not only doing those things their community found to be dishonorable, gross, and ugly. They, through no fault of their own or because of the situation they found themselves in, also looked as if this was the only kind of work – or existence – or future – they could possibly live in. 

And it was exactly these folks – including so-called sinners – who were invited to party with Jesus in Simon Peter’s house. Now we’re not told who these “sinners” were but, based on context and how this word was used in other places, “sinners” was a  euphemism for prostitutes. These workers, though, weren’t in this profession for themselves since they were most likely sold, enslaved, and forced to do this work at a young age. Their future – and lives – would be short since we have no records of those who Jesus would have encountered ever retiring from that lifestyle or making it into their 20s. Peter’s home wouldn’t have been big enough to keep all these guests inside so everyone would have seen who Jesus chose to break bread with. And so the house party Jesus threw was the kind of party respectable neighbors would have called the cops to immediately shut down. The community Jesus pulled together was, in the words of Mark Allen Powell, “the most pitiable people of [Jesus’] world, though of course it may have been difficult to pity them when they were robbing you or physically assaulting you or tempting your husband to spend grocery money on adultery or infecting your sons with venereal diseases. In Jesus’ day as in ours, pathetic individuals were both easy to pity and easy to despise.” Jesus, though, chose to do more than pity those who looked like they deserved the short, miserable, and painful present and future they were living through. He showed them mercy and how the kingdom of God belonged to them too. 

And that might make sense to us since we assume Matthew, who immediately became an ex-tax collector, was at Jesus’ table too. We expect those who turn from what we assume is an unChristian life to be brought in by their God. Yet nothing within these few verses implies that every other guest left – or could leave – their current circumstances behind. For those who were enslaved; who look different; those who society decided didn’t deserve a future with them; for those failed to break out of the ongoing cycle of poverty and violence; for those who, through no fault of their own, were caught in a system that consumed their life; and those who looked like they deserved everything that had happened to them – Jesus welcomed, invited, and set his table for them. We often read Jesus’ proverb about coming for the sick rather than the well as his way of promising to cure whatever is infecting us. But Jesus knows we don’t always necessarily have the option – or get to change – our life or the future coming our way. We often assume our walk with God depends only on the choices we make and, especially those with us with a little money, security, and opportunity to have agency over our life – we assume being with God and choosing God are the same thing. Jesus, though, knows just how big life can be and that we are – and always will be – defined by something other than what we do or what’s been done to us. So he chooses to see, to know, to welcome, and to embrace those “in spite of [the] current circumstances that reflect nothing of God’s reign or righteousness.” Jesus chooses to include, feed, and to honor those who otherwise live in shame. And while Jesus himself often didn’t look like he was following God because of the company he chose to keep, he embodied a kind of mercy, grace, and an ever expanding table that showed who our God chooses to be. 

Amen.

When God began to create the heavens and the earth, the earth was complete chaos, and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.
And God said, “Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” So God made the dome and separated the waters that were under the dome from the waters that were above the dome. And it was so. God called the dome Sky. And there was evening and there was morning, the second day.
And God said, “Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.” And it was so. God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good. Then God said, “Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed and fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it.” And it was so. The earth brought forth vegetation: plants yielding seed of every kind and trees of every kind bearing fruit with the seed in it. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, the third day.
And God said, “Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years, and let them be lights in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth.” And it was so. God made the two great lights—the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars. God set them in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth, to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day.
And God said, “Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky.” So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, of every kind, with which the waters swarm and every winged bird of every kind. And God saw that it was good. God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day.
And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind.” And it was so. God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind and the cattle of every kind and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good.
Then God said, “Let us make humans^[c] in our image, according to our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over the cattle and over all the wild animals of the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.”
So God created humans in his image,
    in the image of God he created them;
    male and female he created them.
God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth and to every bird of the air and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so. God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

Genesis 1:1-2:4a

My sermon from Trinity Sunday (May 31, 2026) on Genesis 1:1-2:4a.

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So one of the things I love about books is what it takes to get to the very first page. We often find ourselves having to flip through the cover, a title page, a table of contents, and even a dedication page before we finally get to the beginning. Those first few pages usually include a few words but they’re primarily defined by a bunch of empty space. And it’s the emptiness that helps us transition from lives filled with to-do lists, bills, homework, housework, and everything else towards something new. Turning a page from what was and towards what can be is a blessing we receive when we open physical books. And we hope those first words on the other side of all that emptiness sets a life-giving tone for whatever comes next. I wonder, then, if our experience opening books shapes how we interact with the Bible. When we’re sitting at a desk, lounging in bed, or resting on the beach, we want the opening of God’s story to be a kind of firm boundary showing us who our God chooses to be. And for a long time, the English translation for the opening words of Genesis, chapter 1, matched that expectation. Scholars, though, have known for quite awhile that the words “In the Beginning” might not be the best translation for what those original Hebrew words actually meant. And that’s why our first reading today sounds a bit different from what we’ve heard before. A year ago, we began using an updated English translation of the Bible for worship which, for the most part, hasn’t really changed how we’ve heard these words since the late 1980s. However, the very first words of the Bible sound quite new. No longer do we begin God’s story with a firm boundary between nothing and everything. We, instead, enter into a story that sort of feels as if it’s already begun. God does what God always does by making something brand new and when God began to create the heavens and the earth, something was already there. 

Now like I said in our children’s message,the Bible includes several creation stories. And we tend to take these different stories – such as the two that begin the book of Genesis as well as references in the Psalms, Isaiah, and the first chapter of John, to create some kind of synchronized timeline that removes anything that contradicts with each other. But I like to imagine these separate visions of creation as serving as an opportunity to discover more about ourselves and our God. Paying attention to what makes these stories different makes our faith grow. And when we do that with Genesis, chapter 1, we discover how all the nothingness was actually very full. The God who creates is wrapped up by a chaotic void containing a deep ocean shrouded in darkness. God, then, has a canvas we can’t really mentally picture since there’s no real science or structure to describe it. God, though, gets busy with wind, spirit, and breath moving through it all. We quickly see a pattern God uses to take what is present and transform it into something new. And it wouldn’t be wrong to recognize this pattern as rooted in division and separation. God, after all, is described as adding boundaries and putting distance between day and night, the various waters, the sky, and the dry land. It feels as if one of the things God does when God creates is by bringing a sense of order out of something that’s all mixed up. This order, then, is rooted in setting apart bits of creation from one another so that everything can be what we’d expect them to be.  

Yet I wonder if there might be something more happening when God speaks, separates, identifies, and names. Brian Maas, who works for an organization supporting seniors through the Nebraska Synod, wrote a commentary about this passage that noticed how God’s acts of separation weren’t done for their own sake.* Those named parts of creation – the Day, Sky, Waters, and Land don’t exist independently on their own. They are, rather, identified, named, and in tune with each other. The Day doesn’t replace the Night nor does the waters of the sky replace the waters of the seas. What God does, instead, is give different parts of creation their own identity – and then keep those identities in relationship with one another. This, then, is at the heart of the order God is creating. God isn’t merely setting the stars, continents, plants, animals, and people apart. God is giving them their own identity so they can get to know one another. The day does not exist without the night and the land does not exist without the waters. And the relationship God binds them together with generates new possibilities for what might come next. When we finally get to the creation of people, which is the climax of what this version of creation is all about, all humans are identified as bearing the image of God. What that might mean, we’re not necessarily sure. But I wonder if part of the image we carry is tied to God’s pattern of creation. We might assume it’s our responsibility to practice the art of separation and division to establish an order we think is holy and true. Yet if God’s creative work is rooted in the giving of identities to keep creation related to one another, then tending to our relationships is how we bring a more faithful order to our lives and to our world. It’s through the connections we form with one another, with nature, and with all God has given us, that enables us to discover more of who God knows we can be. 

So maybe what God is opening us to when we turn the page to the first words of our Bible is an invitation to notice the God who has given us an identity too. By clinging to who our God has made us to be, we separate ourselves from all the other voices claiming we’re something other than who we are.  It isn’t our ego, pride, intelligence, culture, history, where we grew up, or all the things we’ve accomplished that define us when it comes to our God. Rather, the God who has created you is also the God who has claimed you through baptism to be part of what God is doing in the world. You have already been separated from everything that takes your life and brought towards the source of life instead. You have, exactly as you are, been created for deep relationships with God and with all parts of creation. And when we recognize we are made for community we discover how that is part of the image of God too. The God who chose to be Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – to be Creator, Redeemer, and our Sustainer – exists with identities and a community too. And if holding an identity – while being part of something bigger than ourselves is good enough for God – then it’s also good enough for those who bear that image into the world. The God who takes what is there and gives it an identity rooted in love, connection, and transformation is also a God doing that with you. The God who has declared you to be a beloved child of God invites us to live God’s pattern of creation in all we say and do. And when we do that through all the different identities we hold as well as in the different communities we call home, we show others who God has made them to be too.

Amen.

* From Christian Century’s email about the lectionary that was emailed out on Tuesday, May 26, 2026.

When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
Now there were devout Jews from every people under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Fellow Jews^[a] and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:
‘In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
    and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
    and your old men shall dream dreams.
Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
    in those days I will pour out my Spirit,
        and they shall prophesy.
And I will show portents in the heaven above
    and signs on the earth below,
        blood, and fire, and smoky mist.
The sun shall be turned to darkness
    and the moon to blood,
        before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day.
Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’

Acts 2:1-21

My sermon from Pentecost (May 24, 2026) on Acts 2:1-21.

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So a few days ago, I did something I haven’t done in awhile: I went to an actual movie theater to watch a movie. It was, after all, the opening day for the new Mandalorian and Grogu movie and the Star Wars fans in my household couldn’t wait to see it. Memorial Day weekend has, for decades, been viewed as the unofficial start of summer and the summer blockbuster movie is part of that tradition. Even though many of us still have six more weeks of school to get through, we’re already mentally on vacation. We can’t wait to escape real life by going to the shore, the lake, or simply visiting family and friends. Summer, we imagine, is when we temporarily leave our worries, anxieties, and fears behind. The big screen full of action, adventure, and all kinds of special effects can create a moment of peace that soothes our soul. Taking a moment to visit a place a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, is – for me – what summer is all about. And it was sort of fascinating how, during the countless commercials and previews before the movie even began, the idea of movies being an escape from our lives kept showing up over and over again. We were explicitly invited to forget whatever was going on outside that darkened space and to escape into a new world while eating an obscene amount of popcorn out of a novelty bucket. The large screen, loud music, giant explosions, and fantastical creatures are meant to bring us out of our lives and the world. And so I think it’s pretty interesting that on this Sunday of Memorial Day Weekend, what we hear from the book of Acts is a blockbuster story that pushes us into our lives and into the world instead. 

Now one of the things I enjoy within today’s reading – a reading we hear every Pentecost – is how self-referential it is. We, along with those gathered around Jesus’ friends, get to ask “what does this mean?” And one of the ways we try to answer that question is by connecting the tongues of fire, the mighty wind, and the day itself to the entirety of God’s story. Like I said in my children’s message, Pentecost isn’t only a thing Christians celebrate. Pentecost – which comes from the Greek word for fifty – is also known as “the festival of Weeks” and it originally was related to farming and the growing season. The festival marked seven weeks and one day after the harvest started. But over time, Pentecost became connected to Passover since it’s hard to predict when the harvest will actually begin. Pentecost also grew beyond its focus on the food since some recognized how we need spiritual nourishment too. This date, then, is also an opportunity to renew the covenant God made with the Jewish community while also celebrating the giving of the law at Mount Sinai. Beyond the significance of the day itself, the imagery of the wind and fire have been linked to all kinds of things too. Professor Rebecca Dean in a commentary about this passage pointed out how all these special effects have been seen as a description for God. King David sang about a God of wind and fire during a moment of Thanksgiving and Elihu, a sort of frenemy of Job, used that same imagery to describe God’s majesty. When God descended onto Mount Sinai to meet with Moses and give the law, clouds and fire raged all around. And when someone chooses to twist God’s words by acting as if their will is the same as God’s, the prophet Ezekiel promised God’s stormy wrath would surely come. Even the miraculous act of speaking other languages has been connected to other parts of God’s story by seeing it as a reversal of the tower of Babel itself. The wind, smoke, fire, and power has also been connected to Jesus since, at the very beginning of his ministry, it was promised that our baptisms would include water, the Spirit, and all kinds of fire. 

We are, I think, drawn to these special effects since, on one level, that’s who we want our God to be. A God with the power to create the universe should, we hope, show up in our own lives with that same kind of might and glory. Our scriptures are full of healings, miracles, and a generosity we want to experience every day. And when we do something – or something happens to us – that undoes who we know ourselves to be, we need a God who can make us whole. Yet there are times when the prayer “Lord, I see what you do for other people and I wish you’d do it for me” is more than a joke we see on a screen. A faith without special effects is a faith that can feel incomplete when life gets hard. Chasing after those special effects can be one of the ways we try to calm our own anxieties, worries, and fears. But wanting a faith that always feels like a summer blockbuster movie is a faith that will struggle when real life comes our way. I wonder, then, if our focus on the wind, fire, and tongues in the Pentecost story, gets in the way of what God is trying to say. And that’s because no one within the story tries to extend or make those special effects continue. Jesus’ friends don’t try to keep those flames over their head nor does the crowd ask them to perform it over and over again. In fact, even asking for an explanation lowers the energy and the intensity of the moment. And when we get the explanation – an explanation that goes beyond what we hear today – we discover how it’s the story of  Jesus’ love, presence, and deep connection that moves people to discover what following Jesus might mean for them. Peter invites those in the crowd to not only recognize the new thing God is doing but to also see how God refuses to give up on us and our world. God has – and God continues – to show up in big and small ways to show how much you truly matter. And while we often need the opportunity to momentarily take a break from all the hardships, struggles, and sorrow of the world – that doesn’t mean leaving the world is Jesus’ wish for those who he has already claimed as his own. Rather we are called to follow him towards those who need to know they matter too. Which is why, I think, on that Pentecost after Easter, Jesus’ friends weren’t invited to keep the front door locked and keep those special effects only for themselves. They were, instead, pushed out to tell Jesus’ story to everyone they met. The wind, fire, and speaking in different languages wasn’t the miracle of this story. What made Pentecost special was that God’s story was heard in the words that remind us we are loved, we have value, and we have a home. And rather than wanting Jesus’ story to be tied only to outward displays of power, God knew our faith grows when we make the time to get to know one another. Jesus invites us to recognize that the special effects which strengthen our faith are rooted in the ways we choose to be for each. And the God who has already gone through the blockbuster of the Cross doesn’t want us to escape from the life we live. Rather, because of Jesus, we get to live with one another and show how God’s love makes us – and our world – brand new. 

Amen.

So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a Sabbath day’s journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying: Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

Acts 1:6-14

My sermon from Ascension Sunday (May 17, 2026) on Acts 1:6-14.

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So about 525 years ago, in what would eventually become the nation of Germany, an artist using the printing press became very influential. His name was Albrecht Durer and he’s known for the images his workshop etched onto blocks of wood. They would make these incredibly detailed pictures, cover them in ink, press the blocks into pieces of paper, and then ship the prints all over Europe. These images were available everywhere and even folks like Leonardo da Vinci wanted to get to know this artist from Northern Europe. Much of his initial work centered around the Bible with pictures depicting the Apocalypse, the Archangel Michael fighting a dragon, and the Passion of Christ becoming best sellers. But Durer also spread out into other areas, becoming the first person to publish star charts for navigation in Europe as well as printing an image of a Rhinoceros after his friend described what one looked like. The images Durer created shaped people’s imagination of what Luther’s Reformation was all about. And one of these influential pieces depicted what we heard in our first reading from the book of Acts. The Ascension is one of the great Christians festivals we really don’t pay much attention to. We didn’t hold a special Ascension Day worship this past Thursday or keep our kids home from school to sing Ascension day songs. This moment in Jesus’ story, though, truly matters and has inspired the minds of artists for nearly two thousand years. And when folks depict this scene, they often draw the disciples gathered on a mountain top while looking up as Jesus’ feet dangle at the top of the page. In your copies of the bulletin, you’ll notice a cropped version of Durer’s version of this scene. As you can see, the disciples are gathered together and Jesus’ feet hanging down from the very top. But one of the things that makes Durer’s print a bit unique is what he chose to keep at the center of it all. In the middle wasn’t a big empty space with the disciples looking confused and full of doubt. Our eyes are, instead, invited to focus on the two empty footprints waiting to be filled. 

Now to realize what the Ascension is, we need to remember what happened 40 days before what we read in Acts. On that morning, before the dawn broke, a few women left the city of Jerusalem to visit a tomb. They carried with them the spices and other things they needed to complete the burial rituals for their teacher. They were weighed down by grief, sorrow, and unsure what their future might bring. But when they arrived at the tomb, they discovered Jesus wasn’t there. The Easter morning surprise was repeated over and over again as Jesus kept showing up to his friends. He met up with Peter, secretly walked alongside two disciples as they fled from the city before making himself known in the breaking of the bread, and then joined all of them for a dinner of broiled fish. Jesus’ presence was exciting, unexpected, and gave them so much hope. Yet his being among them resembled what it was like in the days prior to the Cross. Except for a few very long days – the disciples could still share their joys, doubts, and questions with the One who promised to never let them go. But on that 40th day, Jesus knew it was time to break up the routine. He led them a short way to the village of Bethany and then they hiked up the mount of Olivet – also known as the mount of Olives. As they neared the top, they looked out and saw the entire valley full of olive orchards, farmland, vineyards, and the city of Jerusalem itself. It must have felt as if they were on the top of the world and so it seemed like the perfect time to ask the One who even death could not hold if it was now the time for Jesus to become the king they always expected him to be. 

And this question is actually a very good one if we remember what happened when they were on that same mountain just a few weeks before. It was there when Jesus had ordered his disciples to find a donkey he could ride on so that he could enter the city of Jerusalem as if he was already its king. Even after all they had seen and experienced, the disciples believed their Messiah would change the world by establishing a political kingdom that would finally push the Romans and everyone else into the sea. Every person or power that believed they were destined to rule the world and who believed it was their right to inflict their wills on others – would now meet a Risen Lord with the power to make everything right. The Romans, who had tried to end Jesus’ story, would soon discover how he’s back and ready to ride once more. All the disciples needed was one more command to go and find another donkey for their king to ride. Many of the disciples imagined Jesus had given them a kind of spiritual and holy armor that would allow them to leave military style footprints in the sand. They assumed they were given the power to fight a war that was righteous and pure. And yet Jesus didn’t deputize his friends or give them the opportunity to inflict violence in His name. The footprints we make while chasing after the symbols of power, success, might, and strength to help us win the day weren’t the footprints Jesus chose to make. He, instead, ascended up to the fullness of the divine so that his footprints, rather than our own, could be the ones we get to fill. With a few words, he reminded those who followed him it wasn’t their responsibility to make God’s kingdom real on earth. Rather, God’s kingdom had already come and it would continue to unfold through those Jesus claimed as his own. The Ascension wasn’t Jesus leaving his disciples behind or inviting them to seek the location of where he was going. The Ascension is Jesus letting everyone know that the Divine has fully integrated into itself every part of our human story. The joy, the tears, the laughter, the pain, the fear, the boredom, and the ways we’re so good at letting Sin win – all of that has been brought into a God who refuses to let our worst days be the only days that define us. Our assumption we need to chase after God has been upended by a God who has already chosen you. And that God has given you a commission to bear witness to what God’s kingdom is all about. Jesus’ expression of healing and wholeness; of grace and hope; of welcome and inclusion; of justice and integrity; of accountability and peace – that is the path Jesus has already filled with his footprints. And these footprints aren’t merely a sign of where Jesus has been. They’re also an invitation for us to follow them and leave our own Jesus sized footprints in all we say and do. This, of course, isn’t easy because kindness and care, mercy and support, and a willingness to be for one another are not the kinds of footprints we raise up, celebrate, or embrace. But the God who’s always included you – and who will publicly welcome Ronan into Christ’s beloved body in just a few moments – trusts we really can live out God’s forgiveness and grace. You are loved so that you can be God’s love in the world. And while we won’t always get this love right we know and we trust that the Ascended Jesus is already in front of us leaving new footprints of hope that we get to fill. 

Amen.

“If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

“I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me, and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

John 14:15-21

My sermon from the 6th Sunday of Easter (May 10, 2026) on John 14:15-21.

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So I’m curious: where do your ideas come from? 

Now I, personally, spend a lot of my time playing around with ideas. Most weeks I’m figuring out what prayers to say in worship, what lesson to teach in Confirmation, what themes and insights to highlight in our Bible study, and which ideas should shape my sermon. Through prayer, our time together, as well as paying people who are way smarter than I am – there are all kinds of ideas which help us see the Jesus who is always with us. And so when I’m looking for an idea I usually open up a blank page on my computer screen, ignore all the notifications on my phone, and take the time necessary to solve the problem at hand. I assume what I’m bringing into that moment will be enough to figure everything out. My education, my intelligence, my charm, my ability to recognize patterns, and all the living and work I’ve done to get to this point should be enough to come up with that one thing that can move me forward. But when I do this, the ideas don’t always come. In fact, most of the ideas I use on Sunday morning come while I’m busy doing something else. When we’re caught up living out the multiple vocations God has given us while being bombarded by all kinds of joys, sorrows, responsibilities, and that never ending to do list – an idea we need just shows up in a completely unexpected way. Noticing how the ideas we don’t plan for change us is one of the ways God shows up in our lives. And I wonder if we pay attention to how this played out during Jesus’ long sermon at the Last Supper, we can discover what should shape all the ideas that make us who we get to be. 

Now we’ve been spending time this Easter season with Jesus right before his betrayal and arrest. He was, during our reading today from the gospel according to John, celebrating the festival of Passover with his friends in Jerusalem. After hosting a dinner party where they could all eat, drink, and talk, Jesus interrupted everyone by wrapping a towel around his waist and washing their feet. Jesus knew the Cross was only a few hours away and the idea that the One who could cure the sick, raise the dead, and calm a storm with a word could be visibility defeated wasn’t something the disciples could imagine. Their ideas about strength, power, success, and faithfulness required Jesus to always win. And there wasn’t any room in their hearts and minds to  recognize just how far God would go for you. A new idea wasn’t going to be enough to break through everything they carried. What they needed was the promise their story would continue despite all the Crosses we build along the way. Jesus’ words throughout this long sermon shouldn’t, then, be reduced to ideas of the divine that serve as ways to divide who is with Jesus and who isn’t. Rather, they were a word of comfort for those who didn’t trust that Easter really was on its way. So that invites us, I think, to wonder if the start of this part of Jesus’ sermon might not be as transactional as it first appears. We always assume whatever idea that’s in the second part of any “if” statement should become our priority. But if that was true, this one wouldn’t bring comfort to anyone. On one level, it does sound as if Jesus was providing us a way to quantify our faith by measuring it by what we do. All we need is to follow Jesus’ commandments – and we show not only what we love but also our worthiness for God’s love too. The centering of our – and the disciples’ actions – is, however, a little out of place especially in light of what is about to come next. It was, after all, a disciple who was about to betray him; a friend who loved him who would deny him; and those who promised to be with him would flee from Jesus’ side. They would, through what they do, show anything other than love and faith. If Jesus’ “if” statement was doing what we assume it should do, Jesus was setting them up to fail. Jesus, though, isn’t interested in reducing life and our experiences of God into some kind of divine transaction. He knows being human isn’t easy and we don’t need help when it comes to not meeting God’s expectations. Any idea that lets us be the ones who define the fullness of what love can be is an idea that can never be as big as God knows it can be. 

And so that “if” in Jesus’ words isn’t an invitation, I think, for us to dwell on how we fail. It’s an opportunity for us to recognize how, because of Jesus, something new is possible. Since, in baptism and in faith, you are part of what God is doing in the world and since your worst days won’t be your only days – God refuses to let love only depend on us. A Jesus who is willing to welcome and listen; to care and serve; to recognize those we push aside and who knows us and loves us despite the ways we hide who we truly are – won’t let us limit how big grace can be. God refuses to let faith depend on us or to let the promise be something we hold on our own. God also gives us the Holy Spirit – the Advocate, the Comforter, and the Helper to hold us, guide us, and make Jesus’ promise to always be with us real in our life. The Spirit is the word we hear in worship, read in Scripture, or receive from a friend that sustains us when things get hard. The Spirit is when others show up for us to cry by our side. This Spirit is the sound coming out of our mouths when we challenge an injustice in our world. And the Spirit is the water we splash on our face to remember that – through baptism – we always belong. The Spirit is the sacrifices we make so others have what we need. The Spirit is when we don’t horde God’s gifts only for ourselves. The Spirit is when the welcome we receive from God becomes a welcome others experience through us too. And the Spirit is when we’re able to ask for help and to bring help to those whose eyes have long run out of tears. Faith is always more than an idea because it’s rooted in the promise that shapes not only how we view ourselves but also how we relate to every one God brings our way. And that promise is that you really are worth living, dying, and rising for. The love God gives us is a love big enough to hold us exactly as we are. And it’s that love – and the Spirit – that reminds us we are never far from God. 

Amen.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own, but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me, but if you do not, then believe because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

John 14:1-14

My sermon from the 5th Sunday of Easter (May 3, 2026) on John 14:1-14.

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Even though our lectionary – the cycle of readings we use in worship – works on a 3 year rotation, there are some passages in our Bible that I’ve preached on way more than others. We will, for example, celebrate Pentecost very soon and hear the same passage from the book of Acts we hear every year. Listening to the same story over and over again can feel repetitive. But there are times when hearing these words after experiencing new joys  and struggles can help us see God more clearly. Today’s reading from the gospel according to John is a text we hear every three years. Yet it’s also a text I’ve read quite a bit since it’s used for funerals. There’s something very comforting about leaning into Jesus’ promise for those we love while living through our own incredible heartbreak and sorrow. But on a regular Sunday after our big Trash and Treasure rummage sale, this word sounds a bit strange. As I was preparing for today’s sermon, I didn’t think I’d have anything new to say since I’ve already written dozens of homilies about this passage. I did, though, find a commentary by Professor Laura Holmes of Wesley Theological Seminary who showed me something I hadn’t really noticed before. At the very start of our reading is one of the more difficult parts of this text. Jesus’ invitation to “not let our hearts be troubled” sounds like a command we’d never meet. We assume Jesus wants our faith, joy, and life to be so secure that our emotions are never too out of whack. Yet it doesn’t take much of actually living our life before a troubled heart is all we’ve got. We can imagine that living with faith should make us into a kind of robot whose emotions are always in check. But when we notice how Jesus was often troubled himself, his invitation lets us be more human and faithful too. 

Now we are at this point in John’s version of Jesus’ life near the beginning of his long sermon shared during the last supper. Jesus had gathered together with his friends and after hosting them, then launched into a four chapter long sermon. Jesus knew the Cross was on its way and he wanted to help his friends live through a future none of them wanted. This dialogue was more than Jesus simply lecturing at those around him. They talked back, asked questions, and forced Jesus to repeat his main point in many different ways as he tried to get them to hear what he had to say. Jesus knew their expectations were about to be completely undone since they had seen the abundance, power, and grace of his ministry manifested in real and tangible ways. But in just a few hours it would look as if his – and the disciples’ – story had come to an end. As he spoke, their anxiety grew since Jesus kept hinting at what was coming next. His invitation “to not be troubled” felt like an impossible – and unfair – task. But Jesus also knew what it was like to be troubled since he was associated with that words a few chapters before. When Jesus came face to face with the loss of his friend Lazarus, his heart had been troubled. And when he came to terms with his own death and how one of his friends would betray him, his soul – and his spirit – were troubled too. Being troubled, then, can’t only be about having our emotions turned upside down. Jesus was, instead, pointing to what happens when a loss makes us feel isolated and alone. Jesus wasn’t telling his friends a faithful life should act as if our hearts will never break. Rather Jesus’ connection with us will always be stronger than whatever trouble comes our way. 

Now that promise within Jesus’ words is something I’ve pointed out quite a bit. But what I didn’t realize was how Jesus, in these words, showed how we experience this promise everyday. The words as they appeared in the ancient Greek language they were first written in are really hard to translate. If we wrote them out, they might read something like: like “You all, do not let your heart be troubled.” The “your” is plural which means Jesus was talking to the disciples as a group. But the word used for “heart” breaks all our grammar rules since it’s singular. Jesus wasn’t telling each disciple to make sure their heart – their individual emotions – were never upset. He wanted them to recognize how, because of Jesus, they have one communal heart. Faith, for Jesus, is always a group activity. We need a team of folks to care, pray, and show up for us through everything life brings our way. And so Jesus chose to point to our responsibility to live as if we really are part of one body – using our gifts, experiences, stories, and abilities to help each other thrive. We often act as if our own personal and individual success and happiness depends only on the work we do, yet one of the things we get to do is reminding one another we’re not alone. It doesn’t take much for us to wonder if God’s promises really are meant for us. There are way too many times when our prayers are met with silence and the good life we expected ends up very topsy turvey. Doubt; anxiety; fear; rejection; anger; sadness; and resignation are part of a faith-filled life too. And when we’re feeling as if we’re living this life all on our own, we need the person next to us at the communion rail or posting comments on our livestream to remind us we are not alone. When, in the immediate moments after Jesus’ meal with his friends and their bonds of fellowship broke down, their troubled hearts are what caused them to flee from Jesus’ side and for Peter to deny knowing Jesus in the first place. Jesus doesn’t want us to do everything we can to stop our own hearts from feeling. He wants us to trust that through him, in him, and because of him – we are connected to one another and the divine. 

And that’s because Jesus is more than a teacher, prophet, guide, or cool friend. He is a “Way.” His life – and our faith – isn’t only about bringing us to an amazing destination that makes life worth it. It is, rather, about showing how – together – we get to live out God’s love, grace, hope, and mercy right now. Our eternal life also includes this moment – and it’s the connection we have – and continue to have with Jesus – that brings us into our tomorrow. And so we get to remind each other that our baptism; our trust; our care; the ways others answer our prayers and how we get to the be the answer to other’s people prayers too – is how Jesus chooses to show up in our lives and in our world. And when we feel as if Jesus is far away, it’s through one another where we have the opportunity to remind each other how Jesus is always by our side. You truly are a beloved child of God and you really are part of what Jesus is doing in the world. And there’s no troubled heart that can break the hold God’s love already has on you. 

Amen.

[The disciples and those after Pentecost] devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.

Awe came upon everyone because many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

Acts 2:42-47

My sermon from the 4th Sunday of Easter (April 26, 2026) on Acts 2:42-47.

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So last Sunday, while you gathered for a worship led by Rev. Elaine Burkert, my family and I were driving back from Boston. We actually woke up earlier than we usually do on a Sunday to grab a little breakfast and then wait in line for over an hour to exit a giant cruise ship. For the prior five days, we traveled through the Atlantic Ocean and spent 24 hours in Bermuda. This was the first time we had, as a family, taken a cruise together and if I had to sum up the entire experience in one word – the word I’d use would be “abundant.” Cruises are meant to be an all inclusive experience full of everything. There was, for example, all kinds of food with a buffet that included multiple omelet, crepe, carving, and ice cream stations. In the evening we could visit an Irish pub, a French Bistro, a Noodle Shop, and still have time to get a third dessert back at the buffet if we wanted to. Since it was April, walking around in flip flops, a hoodie, and holding an adult beverage was everyone’s default attire. And kids could, if they wanted, participate in all kinds of age appropriate clubs filled with activities and their own exclusive events. For those who were a bit competitive, a variety of game shows and trivia competitions took place all day long. And every night was filled with hours of karaoke, Broadway-like shows, and DJ’s who did everything they could to keep you on the dance floor. After spending all day eating, playing, and eating some more, we came back to a room with a made bed, scrubbed toilet, and towels hung neatly in the bathroom. Cruises are an experience where abundance is at the heart of everything we do. And yet the freedom to eat, drink, dance, laugh, and shop whenever we wanted was held together by hundreds of other people who did all the cooking, housekeeping, and entertaining that allowed us to thrive. 

Now today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles is a passage that can surprise us. The book of Acts was crafted by the same person who wrote the gospel according to Luke. And where Luke focused on Jesus’ ministry to the Cross, Acts gave theological language and deep spiritual meaning to what happened after that first Easter morning. At this point in the story, the early church had already watched Jesus ascend to the right hand of God; had replaced Judas with another disciple to be an apostle; and then experienced Pentecost – when the Holy Spirit empowered the disciples to share God’s inclusive story. It had only been mere days or weeks since Jesus’ death and resurrection. Yet the community itself had begun to change as folks who never experienced Jesus face-to-face were now becoming part of the church. We might assume the early disciples would have been a little hesitant to fully integrate these new people into the community. So it would make sense to us to be a little cautious around those who had never heard Jesus utter one of his stories for his own lips. But what the church did instead was to do something that feels a little strange. These old disciples of Jesus as well as those who were brand new sold everything they owned and then, as a community, shared with each other whatever money, food, and resources they might need. 

We might assume the community at this time wasn’t very large or were pretty poor so it would take much to keep everyone fed and housed. Or maybe these early followers of Jesus were way more faithful and a little holier than us so they should be totally cool sharing their money and resources. If we were there, these first believers would be the people we’d be fine sharing our stuff with. But we can also choose to spiritualize these words, treating them as a kind of legend that shouldn’t impact our faith and our life. We, in our own ways, try to mimic this behavior by donating money to the church as well as bringing all our stuff to the Trash and Treasure rummage sale. Yet I’m sure none of us contacted a real estate broker or our financial advisor on our way to church today to see what kind of check we could bring if we sold our home, books, jewelry, cars, investments, and more. The early disciples didn’t only sell what they already owned; they also assumed they’d have all they needed to face the future that was on its way. They trusted their needs would be met but there would be a debate about what was a need and want. And letting someone else – either a community, or a committee, or even me be the one who decides what you need – and what you don’t – is a  little nerve wracking. The longer we sit wondering what this moment in Acts might have been like, the more anxious, worried, and concerned we get. It wouldn’t take much to assume the newer folks to the community hadn’t earned access to these resources since they didn’t see the Romans nail Jesus to the Cross. And those who showed up after the resurrection with a check in their hands could easily discover as if they were only there to cater to whatever wants and needs the older crew had. Selling and combining their assets together would have felt like a constraint on who good their life could be. And yet what the community made up of older and newer followers of Jesus experienced instead was an abundance full of grace, hope, and love. 

And what that abundance looked like was lived out by spending time together with their God and with one another. We’re told they worshipped in the Holy Temple and then shared meals in their homes. Acts doesn’t say they immediately went back to work or school or immediately left to tell others who Jsus is. Rather, they did the hard work of being a community – together. They had to take the time to discover what gifts and resources they had and ponder what their needs actually were. They had to become a place where people regardless of their health, abilities, intelligence, age, or background could really worship their God. Their personal stories – full of hurt and joy – would shape what the gospel really meant to them. And everyone would need to choose to change how they communicated, interacted, and lived with one another so conflict, jealousy, fear, and anxiety wouldn’t tear them apart. They would need to pay attention to what they would need to give up so they could really be for one another. The pooling of resources wouldn’t constrain what their life could be. It would, rather, be their way of making sure their fears, worries, concerns, and biases wouldn’t be the only thing that defined them. Their experience of Jesus – if it was in-person or through faith – would be the abundant gift that changed them. And as much as we imagine the good life being like a cruise that lasts forever, the life Jesus actually brings us into is bound by a holy connection that doesn’t end. It’s a life that trusts you are fully known and believes the ways we let anxiety, fear, and scarcity limit the love we share won’t limit who we can be. We get to be a community who doesn’t let others do the hard work needed to help us live together. We get to use our own gifts of time, talent, attention, and energy to show others they are not alone. We get to care; to serve; to show up; to listen; to pray; to offer help to those who need it; and to do the harder thing of asking for help when we need it too. And when we feel the urge to keep this life only to ourselves, that’s when the Cross-shaped life of Jesus pushes us to live out God’s inclusive love in all we say and do. 

Amen.

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors were locked where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may continue to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

John 20:19-31

My sermon from the 2nd Sunday of Easter (April 12, 2026) on John 20:19-31.

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If it’s okay, I’d like to spend this second Sunday of Easter nerding out with The Lord of the Rings. This series, written by J.R.R. Tolkien, is a kind of reimagining of our world’s beginning through the lens of an English fairytale. Tolkien wove together a rich tapestry of fantastical creatures, knights in shining armor, walking trees, magical wizards, elves, dwarves, and his own myths and legends to create a very full history. He was not only influenced by the legends of his homeland but also was shaped by Icelandic sagas, norse mythology, ancient Rome, and more. The Lord of the Rings is presented as a kind of culminating moment in a thousands year long drama about an ancient ring of power, created and infused with the essence of a great evil who wanted the world to reflect what he imagined perfection to look like. And the One ring wasn’t destroyed by a strong army or through the heroic actions of a stoic and mighty man. Instead, it was a diverse fellowship of elves, dwarves, humans, wizards, as well as two hobbits named Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee – who faithfully and courageously changed the world. 

Now after the One Ring fell into the fires of Mt. Doom, these two hobbits were rescued by giant Eagles who plucked them safely from the side of the raging volcano. Sam and Frodo had just collapsed among the burning rock and assumed it was the end. But when Sam woke up, he found himself lying on a soft bed, with the branches of trees covered in young leaves swaying in a gentle spring breeze outside the window. At first, Sam was very confused and wondered if had woken up from a very strange dream. But when he turned and saw Frodo, who was asleep next to him, still carrying the wounds life gave him, Sam knew this was different. He had been given a new chapter but he had no idea what was going on. So Sam cried out to nobody in particular: “It wasn’t a dream! Then where are we?” A voice then spoke up and told him exactly where they were. That voice belonged to Sam’s old friend – Gandalf the wizard – who stood before him all in white, “his beard gleaming like pure snow in the twinkling of the leafy sunlight.” Sam was shocked because the last time he saw him, Gandalf fell into a bottomless abyss fighting a fiery demon. It took a second for the words to come – and when they did, Sam gasped: “Gandalf! I thought you were dead. But then I thought I was dead myself. Is everything sad going to come untrue? What’s happened to the world?” 

I wonder if Samwise’s experience might reveal to us a little bit of what Thomas was up to in today’s reading from the gospel according to John. Thomas has, for centuries, been labeled as a doubter since he doesn’t necessarily accept what the other disciples told him. They, like Mary Magadelene, experienced the risen Jesus in a very personal way. And when they said “we have seen the Lord,” Thomas didn’t simply say okay. He began his response with “Unless I see….” and ended with “I will not believe.” Yet reducing Thomas to only a doubter doesn’t really do justice to his full story. We first met him way back in chapter 11 when Jesus decided to go visit his friends Mary and Martha. The disciples knew that the religious and political authorities were looking for him so such a journey would be dangerous. And while the others were a little skittish, Thomas said, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” Then, a few chapters later, after Jesus washed everyone’s feet and began sharing what would happen next, Thomas had the guts to ask Jesus: “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” When the disciples, after Jesus’ death, huddled behind lock doors, it was Thomas who wasn’t there. Everyone was very afraid yet while the disciples tried to lock out the world, it was Thomas who chose to be in the world instead. Courage isn’t, I think, about not being afraid. It’s about finding a way through it. Not only did Thomas have the courage to not stay locked behind doors on that first Easter evening, but he also courageously spoke up when the others told him what had happened. The disciples rightly shared how Jesus had come to them exactly as they were. And Thomas, to his credit, didn’t discourage their experience. He didn’t call them liars or jokers or wonder if they were simply pranking him or claimed they were sharing an idle tale. What he said was that he wanted that same kind of experience too. 

And that, I think, is something we want as well. Like Thomas, we’d need to know we’re part of this new thing God is up to. We want to believe that our grief, sorrow, and pain weren’t for nothing and that our worst mistakes, our sin, and our selfishness won’t be the only thing that defines us. It often feels quite unfair that joy is so short while our worry, anxiety, and sadness lingers for much too long. So we often do what we can to hold tightly to whatever’s around us assuming our reality is defined by scarcity and our future depends on getting ours before others get it instead. Yet the more we try to hoard life limits what our tomorrow can be. Thomas, who had the courage to not be locked in, also had the courage to wonder out loud if God had a place for him too. And Jesus, in response, showed Thomas this new future he was always already a part of. It wasn’t going to be a future where, in the words of Samwise Gamgee, everything sad came untrue since even Jesus’ body carried the unhealed wounds we gave him on the Cross. Rather, the bits of life we wish we could relive again as well as those bits we wouldn’t wish for anyone are wrapped up in a tomorrow where God is truly making all things new. This is a new story where the limits of what was is being transformed into what can be. And rather than being a tomorrow defined only by us, it’s a future where mercy, compassion, grace, and abundance are all part of what we get to be. It’s a reconciliation and a renewal that extends through the entire cosmos. And while we might not see this fully lived out in our lifetimes, Jesus comes to us in our real lives to say you are loved, you have value, and you matter. He comes to us at a table where even the imperfect, the anxious, the worried, those who question, and those who might not even know who God is – to simply say you belong here. And whenever we find ourselves wondering what’s up with our lives and with our world, God grants us the courage to be honest about who we are and trust Jesus will always be Jesus too. You – because of Christ – are part of the new chapter God is already writing. And while life will be what it’s been, we can reimagine our today and tomorrow to reflect the reconciliation, renewal, wholeness, hope, and joy at the heart of who our God chooses to be. 

Amen.

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’s head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed, for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb, and she saw two angels in white sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not touch me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord,” and she told them that he had said these things to her.

John 20:1-18

My sermon from Easter Sunday (April 5, 2026) on John 20:1-18.

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So it’s the time of year when I begin and end every day wondering when I’ll deal with my yard. The long, cold, and stormy winter left branches and broken squirrel nests at the foot of every tree. Bulbs my wife planted have started blooming, adding a little color next to all the dead piles of lives. And while I know many of you are masters when it comes to yards and gardening, not everyone has the time, resources, or skills to make life grow. We all, I think, enjoy all the flowering trees even if we have to take every allergy pill we can find. Yet we also recognize how this season is fed by the decay and shadow that came before. Gardens are a place where life and death exist together since old plants and compost supply the nutrients that allow the next generation to grow. This cycle of life to death to life builds the future where all kinds of colors bloom. And so it’s fitting, I think, that when Mary Magdalene came to the tomb – it was in a garden where the story continues. 

Now today’s reading from the gospel according to John began in a rather strange way. We get to watch one of Jesus’ disciples wander through the city of Jerusalem before dawn but we’re not told why they’re out and about. Unlike the other gospels, John doesn’t give us a specific reason why anyone went out their front door. Mary Magdalene was introduced just one chapter before as a witness to the crucifixion. We have no idea how long, according to John, she followed Jesus or if she ever heard his description of what would happen next. It’s possible someone – or something – told her to go out outdoors. But her movement through the city’s gate might have also been a little bit like muscle memory while she tried making sense of what happened on the Cross. As she walked, I imagine she felt lost, cloudy, and in a daze. Yet when she neared the tomb, an unexpected sight broke through her mental fog. The closed door that served as a fitting capstone to the hopes and dreams she once had – was now fully open. Mary wasn’t quite sure what to do with this new information so she ran, looking for anything that could give this strange thing some meaning. She eventually found two other disciples who might have been hiding in Jerusalem, on their own way to the tomb, or maybe preparing to leave for Galilee. Mary, full of anxiety, worry, grief, and fear, invited them to “come and see.” And when they arrived at the garden and peered inside, we’re not 100% sure what they did next. It’s possible they told Mary what they saw but she might have been too overwhelmed to hear what they said. Within her swirled everything that comes when we’re faced with what life brings. And even the presence of angels couldn’t stop her from weeping. Yet when the divine asked her what she was experiencing, she had the courage, strength, and faith to name what she was feeling out loud. And when she did, she turned from the tomb and towards the life she didn’t know was already there. 

When we imagine gardens in our Bible, it’s not hard to immediately picture the one that’s there at the very beginning. In the hymn that makes up the opening chapters of the book of Genesis, the first place we call home is the garden of Eden. It’s a place full of lush vegetation, friendly animals, abundant food, and where even God strolls under the trees. When we look at gardens, we tend to focus on the finished product since we assume they’re a mini-paradise where peace, comfort, and satisfaction refreshes our soul. A garden is where life as we want it to be is enfleshed in the vibrant colors of our hopes and dreams. Yet gardens in the Bible are also places where temptation, conflict, doubt, and fear are always lived out. It isn’t long before even the garden of Eden becomes a place where sin and death enter our songs. And when Jesus, in anguish, asked for his future through the Cross to be changed, he prayed in the garden of Gethsemane while his disciples fell asleep. Gardens are not only places where sweet smells, green stems, and well manicured beds reflect what life should be. Gardens are also where every part of life is embraced, recognized, and made holy. The dirty fingernails, calloused hands, thorn riddled forearms, and battles with groundhogs are not a sign our garden has failed. Rather, it’s a reminder of the kind of living that makes it a garden in the first place. That might be why when Mary saw life in front of her, her first instinct was to call Jesus the gardener. If anyone would be moving bodies early in the morning, it’s reasonable to suspect those who tend to life and death and life might be involved. None of the other disciples or even the angels had challenged her anxiety, fear, or worry by telling her what God had done. Instead, she was invited to discover this new chapter for herself and for the world. She assumed grief and sorrow would shape her future to come. And while Jesus doesn’t ignore or dismiss the fullness of what life always brings, he – by saying her name – affirms the Easter promise is her promise too. 

Gardens are always meant to be more than a sea of lush vegetables, vibrants bushes, and colors that outshine every rainbow. Gardens are more than a refuge from the world. Gardens are places where the life we live and the promises God keeps become tangible and real. A garden is where the cycle of life is nurtured by a divine hand that chooses to get dirty when we act as if kindness and hope have no place in our lives. Gardens, in the words of Matěj Čadil, are “a symbol of good, of growth and renewal that counteract the inexorable decay of the world.” Gardens “remind us that renewal is [often] slow [and] humble work,” requiring hands that do not give up. And while we have a habit of taking hands of love and nailing them to a Cross, God doesn’t let our choices be the only thing that shapes what tomorrow will bring. Holding onto the fullness of what life is and the cycle of life to death to life again is a holy work we are all invited into because – in baptism and through faith – your name is already on Jesus’ lips too. The Easter promise given to Mary is the same promise God gives to you. And if God can take the decay we perpetuate in the world and transform it into something new, we can join in with compassion and mercy so others know their names are in God’s mouth too. The gardens we grow will never be perfect and we’ll try our best to hide all struggle, frustration, failures, disappointments, and mistakes it took to make it green, yet when we partner up with Jesus by tending to our families, friends, neighbors, and even enemies with a life-giving love – our life and our world begins to bloom. 

Amen.