Category: Sermons

1:1 The words of the Teacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.
Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher,
    vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
What do people gain from all the toil
    at which they toil under the sun?
A generation goes, and a generation comes,
    but the earth remains forever.
The sun rises, and the sun goes down
    and hurries to the place where it rises.
The wind blows to the south
    and goes around to the north;
round and round goes the wind,
    and on its circuits the wind returns.
All streams run to the sea,
    but the sea is not full;
to the place where the streams flow,
    there they continue to flow.
All things are wearisome,
    more than one can express;
the eye is not satisfied with seeing
    or the ear filled with hearing.
What has been is what will be,
    and what has been done is what will be done;
    there is nothing new under the sun.
Is there a thing of which it is said,
    “See, this is new”?
It has already been
    in the ages before us.
The people of long ago are not remembered,
    nor will there be any remembrance
of people yet to come
    by those who come after them.

Ecclesiastes 1:1-11

My sermon from the 19th Sunday after Pentecost (October 19, 2025) on Ecclesiastes 1:1-11.

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So every morning I fill a red kettle with water and place it on the stove. I then turn a knob from off to high and wait for a bright red circle to appear. The heat from the circle takes about 7 minutes to heat the water in the kettle to my preferred temperature. But if I’m distracted, busy, or crawl back into bed for a little more sleep, a thin white line from the kettle bursts forth and a sound like a train whistle lets everyone know the water is ready. When water boils, it changes into water vapor which is a gas we can’t technically see. The white streak we do see is really caused by the very hot vapor colliding with cooler air. The collision forms a tiny cloud that races through the kitchen. But as it spreads, the heat that caused the water to boil cools and the momentary cloud we call steam disappears. There isn’t, I think, a word in the English language that fully captures the entirety of this event. It takes us entire sentences to describe how something is energized, invigorated, and then quickly fades away. This experience applies not only to water being boiled for my morning coffee but relates to so many other moments that feel way too short. There is, though, a word in ancient Hebrew language that does exactly that. In our reading today from the book of Ecclesiastes, the very beginning of the Teacher’s long speech isn’t really about things that are vain or meaningless. That word is all about something that feels so temporary. This book is told from the perspective of a person looking back at the entirety of their story, and wondering how what feels like a momentary thing can make a difference for those who have their own living left to do. 

The book of Ecclesiastes is a strange duck. It does what we expect a Biblical book to do – asking deep questions such as: do people really get what they deserve, does God act in predictable ways, and how should wisdom shape what we say and do. The tone of the book, however, is a little out of place – feeling way more sarcastic and skeptical than the book of Job or Proverbs. And the reason why that might be the case is because its author knew life wasn’t always black or white. Ecclesiastes began by attributing its words to King Solomon who reigned roughly 400 years before the book was written. Solomon was known as someone who possessed a deep and holy wisdom. Yet, as he aged, his wisdom only went so far. During the later years of his reign, worshipping other gods became a hallmark of his home and the massive building program he launched forced him to sell entire cities to other nations to pay his debts. Solomon’s life was complicated which often describes our own. It would be awesome if all we needed were simple guides or sayings or teaching to make every moment easy and clear, when real life happens, what we’ve been taught isn’t necessarily big enough to handle everything that makes life anxious and beautiful all at the same time. Actions don’t always lead to clear and consistent consequences and good doesn’t always bring comfort. And while we’d love bad stuff to eventually bring about accountability, life can often be unfair. Learning how to navigate the irregularity of life is a calling we’re all invited to embrace. 

Now one of the ways Ecclesiastes tried to do this was by noticing what feels like the most regular thing around us. We live life expecting the sun to rise, the wind to blow, and the streams running into the ocean to never fill it up. That does not necessarily mean nature is always predictable or easy to control. Yet there is something amazing, mystical, and comfortable about this vast thing we’re a part of.  The regularity of creation makes us feel God really is in control. But the messiness of our own lives – the ups and downs, the excitement and the boredom, the moments which feel endless and the puffs of smoke going by way too quick – what we long for is a life where we have a little more say and control over what comes our way. There are entire industries claiming with the right words, attitude, diet, beliefs, politics, and other cultural touchstones you can maximize your life right now. Yet it only takes a momentary and fleeting thing to remind us how fragile life can be. So rather than doing all we can to control what we can’t control, maybe it’s more faithful, loving, and spiritually healthy to trust that the One who made life and who lived life – knows, cares, and will always be for you. 

And that is the regular thing we can always rely on. What we can trust is that God knows what God was doing when God made you. When we were brought into the body of Christ through baptism and in faith, it wasn’t because we regularly do what is good, holy, and right. Instead, the God who knows you also knows the church can’t be what it’s supposed to be without you. And while joys and laughter and peace can feel way too fleeting, what is never meaningless or vain is the love God had for you. So, if the author of Ecclesiastes had the courage to reflect and be honest about the life they’ve lived, we should do the same. You’re invited to take the next few minutes to continue our sermon series reflecting on wisdom by taking out the pink sheet and writing down answers to a few questions. “What are some of your disappointments?” “What are some simple pleasures that stand the test of time?” What once seemed very meaningful to you but doesn’t anymore.” And I pray that even during those times when our faith feels like its own fleeting puff of smoke, God will show up and let you know how God’s love will never let you go.

29:1 Job again took up his discourse and said:
“O that I were as in the months of old,
    as in the days when God watched over me,
when his lamp shone over my head,
    and by his light I walked through darkness,
when I was in my prime,
    when the friendship of God was upon my tent,
when the Almighty was still with me,
    when my children were around me,
when my steps were washed with milk
    and the rock poured out for me streams of oil!
When the ear heard, it commended me,
    and when the eye saw, it approved,
because I delivered the poor who cried
    and the orphan who had no helper.
The blessing of the wretched came upon me,
    and I caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy.
I put on righteousness, and it clothed me;
    my justice was like a robe and a turban.
I was eyes to the blind
    and feet to the lame.
I was a father to the needy,
and I championed the cause of the stranger.
30:1 “But now they make sport of me,
    those who are younger than I,
whose fathers I would have disdained
    to set with the dogs of my flock.
“And now they mock me in song;
    I am a byword to them.
They abhor me; they keep aloof from me;
    they do not hesitate to spit at the sight of me.
Because God has loosed my bowstring and humbled me,
    they have cast off restraint in my presence.
38:1 Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind:
“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
Gird up your loins like a man;
    I will question you, and you shall declare to me.
“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
    Tell me, if you have understanding.
Who determined its measurements—surely you know!
    Or who stretched the line upon it?
On what were its bases sunk,
    or who laid its cornerstone
when the morning stars sang together
    and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?
“Or who shut in the sea with doors
    when it burst out from the womb,
when I made the clouds its garment
    and thick darkness its swaddling band,
and prescribed bounds for it,
    and set bars and doors,
and said, ‘Thus far shall you come and no farther,
    and here shall your proud waves be stopped’?

Job 29:1-6,11-16; 30:1,9-11; 38:1-11

My sermon from the 18th Sunday after Pentecost (October 12, 2025) on Job 29:1-6,11-16; 30:1,9-11; 38:1-11.

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When I was little, my brother and I eagerly waited each morning for our dad to pass off the section of the newspaper that contained the comic strips. We selfishly pushed, shoved, whined, and complained so that we could read them first. The strip we always read first, regardless of where it was on the page, was about an adventurous six year old boy named Calvin and a stuffed tiger named Hobbes that only Calvin could talk to. What made this strip special was that it wasn’t limited to only one idea, theme, or gag. Instead, the fullness of a child’s imagination was able to push the boundaries of what a comic could be about. Entire weeks, for example, might be devoted to a game where the only rule was it couldn’t be played the same way twice or maybe about a  snowman who came alive in the middle of the night to make snowmen of their own. Calvin regularly battled against the problem of boredom, school, and having to eat the new thing his mom made for dinner. Yet one of his primary foils throughout the entire series was his dad who loved him very much. In a vivid strip about this dynamic, we see Calvin imagine himself stranded on a distant planet as the fearless Spaceman Spiff. After being captured by a giant sludge monster, Calvin was led to a dungeon that resembled his living room. The monster sat him down and tortured Calvin with a long lecture about “wholesome principals.” “Life is tough,” the monster said, “and suffering builds character. Nothing worth having ever comes easy. Virtue is its own reward and when I was your age…” Calvin’s dad loved to give misery meaning by claiming it always builds character. And that, I think, is often what our own wisdom teaches whenever suffering comes our way. We want sorrow and grief to have some kind of purpose rather than simply being something that happens.  Yet our desire to turn suffering into a teachable moment doesn’t necessarily bring us the peace and comfort we need. The wisdom we share doesn’t always meet our current moment and it can leave us feeling as if we’re completely alone. 

And this experience is something a lot of us, based on the questions I asked you last week, have had to live through. When our world comes tumbling down, our shared wisdom tries to make misery meaningful by claiming this is all part of God’s will and plan. We promise each other that “everything happens for a reason,” that “God wouldn’t give you something you can’t handle,” and then follow up by telling a story of someone we think had it worse. Telling those who feel isolated and alone that “we know how they feel,” or that “their loved one is in a better place” isn’t as comforting to them as it might be to us. And that’s because when our emotions and souls are completely raw, these attempts to make meaning feel meaningless instead. The kinds of words we need to let others say are like the words we heard Job speak in our reading today. We are, in these moments, wrapped in a whirlwind of emotions, thoughts, awe, and despair pushing us to reflect on our past, lament our present, and wonder where it all went wrong. We shout into the universe questions wondering if God is maybe testing us or think God hates us or maybe this God doesn’t feel like our God at all. We search for the kind meaning that can break through the shadow overhanging our hearts. And if we had a magic wand, or a time machine, or the power of God, we’d change everything back even if our prior moments weren’t particularly kind or perfect. There’s courage, in those moments, to recognize how human we are and to admit the multitude of ways we participate in our and other people’s suffering. But when life just happens, we assume there must be a reason at the center of it all. It’s at times like these when God feels so far away. Yet what might worry us even more is the thought God might be way too close. And if this is what life is like when God is here, then what meaning or purpose does God want from us all? 

Now, throughout the book of Job, this question, this worry, and this concern showed up constantly in Job’s back and forth with his friends. They assumed Job did something to cause his family, wealth, and sense of self to be taken away. The wisdom they – and we – shared is rooted in a type of retribution where only the wicked are punished, the good rewarded, and all blessings are manifested in the comfortable life we get to live. It’s the kind of wisdom we saw during our short stint in the book of Proverbs and it’s what we teach our kids when it comes to what’s good and what’s bad. We know, however, life comes with a lot of nuance and we demand a lot of grace for ourselves we don’t extend to others. When things get hard, we make it have a purpose by pointing to some future where we will – because of today – be better, stronger, holier, and more pure. But wouldn’t it be so much more peaceful if we could start at that place rather than go through all the living we do? Which is why, I think, when the extended parable we know as the book of Job finally let God speak, God responded to Job and his friends at a moment that wasn’t bright, clear, and sunny. God, instead, spoke out of a storm because that’s where God chooses to be. And in this long passage that we only hear a little of, the word for God reverted from something like a title and towards the more personal word God shared when Moses met a fiery bush that didn’t burn up. God pushed Job to see the personal relationship they had together and how no part of creation is ever outside of God’s insight and knowledge. And rather than choosing to ignore Job’s cries and concerns, God – I think – affirmed them by asking Job and his friends the same kinds of questions they raised to God. God told Job it’s okay to confront the mysteries of our lives, our world, and even the divine. And while those confrontations can be hard, God pushed Job and his friends to imagine what creation might be like if it actually followed the retributive wisdom we teach and share. When we assume all the wisdom we share is holy wisdom, we let our image of God become our God rather than letting the creator of the universe be who God chooses to be. And what this God chose to do was to experience exactly what it’s like to be born, to have friends, to grow up, to laugh, to cry, to be betrayed, to suffer, to feel, and to truly live. The wisdom we share isn’t big enough to hold the fullness of who our God chooses to be. And rather than make our suffering meaningful by pointing to something that feels value like “building character,” our true meaning comes from a God who chooses to be with and for us no matter what comes our way. 

So I’d like all of us to take a few moments to (either on the pink sheets or the back of our bulletin) discover how our vision of God might have changed over the years. When we were young, what did we imagine who our God was? And then, as we lived, and experienced some of the joys – and sorrows – and all the mysteries life brings – how did our view or experience of God change? What is our God like – and how does our God continue to push us beyond the limits of our imagination and into something holy and new.

2:11 Now when Job’s three friends heard of all these troubles that had come upon him, each of them set out from his home—Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. They met together to go and console and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him, and they raised their voices and wept aloud; they tore their robes and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.


4:1 Then Eliphaz the Temanite answered:

“If one ventures a word with you, will you be offended?
    But who can keep from speaking?
See, you have instructed many;
    you have strengthened the weak hands.
Your words have supported those who were stumbling,
    and you have made firm the feeble knees.
But now it has come to you, and you are impatient;
    it touches you, and you are dismayed.
Is not your fear of God your confidence
    and the integrity of your ways your hope?

“Think now, who that was innocent ever perished?
    Or where were the upright cut off?
As I have seen, those who plow iniquity
    and sow trouble reap the same.
By the breath of God they perish,
    and by the blast of his anger they are consumed.

Job 2:11-13, 4:1-9

My sermon from the 17th Sunday after Pentecost (October 5, 2025) on Job 2:11-13, 4:1-9.

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Now every once in a while, I do something that makes me feel so awkward, I hope other people do it too. I’ll be, for example, at a restaurant giving my order to the waiter or standing in line at airport security waiting to hand my boarding pass and driver’s license to a TSA agent. These tiny interactions come with a list of spoken and unspoken rules shaping what we’re supposed to say and what we shouldn’t. At the end of these little moments, there’s a small phrase the waiter or the agent shares signaling this interaction is over and the next one is on its way. So when the food I ordered is finally placed in front of me and I’m given back the sensitive documents I just handed over, the waiter and the agent invite me to “enjoy the meal” and to “enjoy the flight.” As a grown person, I know what I’m supposed to do. I should thank them for their service or, at a minimum, smile and nod my head. But for reasons I can’t really explain, a sound at the back of my throat bubbles up. I can feel the beginning of a two word phrase word form and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I, with deep sincerity in my voice, look straight into the eyes of the waiter and the security officer and say “you too.” It’s a little strange to invite the person who brought me food and who made me throw out a tube of toothpaste I accidentally packed – to eat a meal and board a flight. Even though I know what I’m supposed to say in that moment, a script in my head kicks in and the words come tumbling out. We all, I think, carry within us a series of scripts shaping what we say and do. These actions plans usually help us process whatever we’re going through and they’re rooted in the wisdom others have taught us. There are moments, though, when these automatic scripts break down. And in our reading today from the book of Job, the script Job’s friends used failed to bring comfort to the one whose world came tumbling down. 

So last week, I invited you to see the book of Job as a an extended parable, similar to the kind of stories Jesus shared. Job, a non-Israelite living in a land we cannot easily identify, had a large family and was very rich. Job’s faithfulness was reflected in the tangible blessings he received since the number of sheep, cattle, oxen, donkeys, sons, and daughters he had were tied to the numbers 3, 7, and 10 – all of which represent symbolically wholeness and completeness. Job was the kind of faithful person we wish we could be. And yet a divine accuser wondered if Job’s trust in God was because of all the stuff he’d been given. So, like in a fairytale, God took everything away. Job, though, still had friends and they came to bring a little comfort to the one who’s life had been completely undone. The three of them used the wisdom they were given to respond to the suffering they saw. The tearing of clothes, the loud cries, the sprinkling of dust, and the sitting with Job on the ground – all of that was from a cultural script to let Job know he wasn’t alone. And instead of filling the air with the sound of their voices, the wisdom required them to wait for Job to speak first. Now when we visited a friend or a loved one who is wrapped up in grief, we often feel as if we’re supposed to say something. We hope there might be a word that can break through all the tears and sadness. This desire comes from our own cultural scripts that doesn’t really know what to do when suffering and grief comes our way. Our discomfort at not knowing what to say or do often leads us to mutter the worst possible thing instead. We can’t imagine that sitting in silence, saying we’re sorry, and holding all that sorrow might be the most loving thing we can do. Job’s friends, then, showed us how the script and wisdom we can carry can be changed into something more holy and true. And in the verses we don’t hear today, their silence allowed Job to put into words every emotion filling his soul. The beginning part of the script Job’s friends used is one we can adopt as our own. But once the script told Job’s friends it was time for them to speak, the limits of our shared wisdom came clearly into view. 

In your responses to the questions I asked you last week, we all know life happens. There’s a lot of stuff in our lives we can control but a big chunk of our existence requires us to simply go with the flow. This, though, is really hard to fully integrate into our minds, hearts, and souls because we have our own cultural wisdom that believes our worth and value are determined by the individual choices we make. That doesn’t everyone is held to this kind of standard and there’s all kinds of people who regularly fail upwards based on who there parents were or the amount of money in their bank account. But when suffering makes it self real in our lives, we act as if others – or ourselves – really deserve it. Our response to those moments are full of a frustration, anxiety, and sadness that would do anything to change. And even if we know there’s nothing to blame, our actions and words default to a script blaming others, ourselves, and our God. That’s the script Job’s friends turned to once their words started tumbling out. They assumed their friend wasn’t maybe as good as they thought and he must have done something to break his covenant with God. Life, to them, was a series of gives and takes that was controlled by their God. And since God is God, then Job must have done something to force God to take his life away. Even though we know, at some abstract level, that life is and that Jesus never said life would be fair, it’s hard to break the script we carry that can’t seem to separate the suffering we’ve cause from the suffering that’s happened to us. 

And so I’d like us to spend the next few moments trying to break that script and wisdom. Please take a few minutes to answer the questions on the pink sheets that came with your bulletin and remember what it was like to be Job during those moments when your friends shared an uncomforting word. 

So what things have people told you to try and make you feel better? 

What things have people told you that made you feel worse?

Can friends sometimes be a mixed blessing?

There was once a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job. That man was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil. ² There were born to him seven sons and three daughters. ³ He had seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, five hundred donkeys, and very many servants, so that this man was the greatest of all the people of the East. ⁴ His sons used to go and hold feasts in one another’s houses in turn, and they would send and invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them. ⁵ And when the feast days had run their course, Job would send and sanctify them, and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all, for Job said, “It may be that my children have sinned and cursed God in their hearts.” This is what Job always did.

⁶ One day the heavenly beings came to present themselves before the Lord, and the accuser also came among them. ⁷ The Lord said to the accuser, “Where have you come from?” The accuser answered the Lord, “From going to and fro on the earth and from walking up and down on it.” ⁸ The Lord said to the accuser, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man who fears God and turns away from evil.” ⁹ Then the accuser answered the Lord, “Does Job fear God for nothing? ¹⁰ Have you not put a fence around him and his house and all that he has, on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. ¹¹ But stretch out your hand now, and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” ¹² The Lord said to the accuser, “Very well, all that he has is in your power; only do not stretch out your hand against him!” So the accuser went out from the presence of the Lord.

¹³ One day when his sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in the eldest brother’s house, ¹⁴ a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were feeding beside them, ¹⁵ and the Sabeans fell on them and carried them off and killed the servants with the edge of the sword; I alone have escaped to tell you.” ¹⁶ While he was still speaking, another came and said, “The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants and consumed them; I alone have escaped to tell you.” ¹⁷ While he was still speaking, another came and said, “The Chaldeans formed three columns, made a raid on the camels and carried them off, and killed the servants with the edge of the sword; I alone have escaped to tell you.” ¹⁸ While he was still speaking, another came and said, “Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother’s house, ¹⁹ and suddenly a great wind came across the desert, struck the four corners of the house, and it fell on the young people, and they are dead; I alone have escaped to tell you.”

²⁰ Then Job arose, tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell on the ground and worshiped. ²¹ He said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

²² In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrongdoing.

Job 1:1-22

My sermon from the 16th Sunday after Pentecost (September 28, 2025) on Job 1.

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So this week was rather busy when it comes to the apocalypse. I’m not saying there was some kind of event signalling the start of the end of the world. Rather, all over social media were folks claiming the Rapture was going to happen last Tuesday. The Rapture is a belief that when the end of the world finally comes, the people Jesus loves best will be taken to heaven, leaving their families, jobs, and possibly even their clothes behind. The true believers will, according to this idea, avoid all the nasty stuff that’s about to come. If you take a second to look around, you’ll notice that we’re all still here. And when we hear the word apocalypse, our imaginations are heavily influenced by all the movies, comic books, tv shows, and youtube videos we’ve consumed. To us, the end of the world might resemble something like Mad Max where small groups of people dressed in leather fight over a few barrels of gasoline and water. Or maybe our apocalypses involve zombies, aliens, a pandemic, the complete collapse of the climate on our planet, and a war filled with armies led by those we think are evil. The end of the world is scary and different Christian traditions have invested a lot of time, energy, and effort figuring out how to avoid all the violence we assume is on its way. And that’s because if God is love, then those who God loves should – this thinking assumes – be filled with a life and afterlife grounded in peace, safety, and comfort. The whole idea of the Rapture is less than 200 years old and it comes from one verse in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians that was taken completely out of context. And while it’s very human to be worried about what tomorrow might be, ideas like the rapture actually increase our anxieties and fears. When we spend our time wondering if God loves us and wants the best for us, we end up missing out on the life Jesus calls us to live. And if God was willing to be born, to be cared for, to grow up, and to experience what we do when God’s love is made real, we should realize we get to do the same. What the Rapture and other thoughts about the end of the world actually shows is what the word “apocalypse” originally meant. “Apocalypse” isn’t a word pointing to some kind of calamity. It is, instead, a Greek work that means “revelation” or “unveiling.” The “apocalypse” is a vision, a story, and a parable, revealing who we and our God choose to be. So during this week when the apocalypse was all over our social media feeds, let’s let our first reading from the book of Job begin to reveal to us how God’s wisdom will always be bigger than our own. 

Now the book of Job isn’t, I think, meant to be heard as an event that really happened. It is, instead, a long parable – resembling the kinds of stories Jesus shared. All of us have – or will – experience moments when the wisdom we were taught as kids completely breaks down. And it can be terrifying to realize we can make zero mistakes and still lose. I saw this paradox and mystery within the words you shared with me last week. All of us assume behaviors such as “treating others respectfully,” showing “kindness, generosity, helpfulness,” putting “people over ego,” and “caring for others, especially when it requires self-sacrifice” are ones that should be rewarded. The other kinds of behaviors such as “hurting others,” “spreading false rumors,” “disregarding the needs of others,” “being a bully and putting ‘me’ first” over everything else are ones that should be pushed aside and seen as wrong. Yet we all know what it’s like to see goodness ignored and those who peddle in violence and harm failing upwards into positions of power, authority, and wealth. The holy, biblical, and faithful invitations to “help others,” “be responsible,” show “compassion,” “speak up and stand up for those who need our help,” to be “forgiving and not judgemental” are things we can embrace. But we’re often encouraged by our sin and the sin within the various communities we call home to “disgread others, to belittle people,” to “ignore the needs of others,” and to take advantage of them because if we don’t get ours someone will take it from us instead. We’re perfectly fine with others being held accountable for what they’ve done or what we think they’ve done, but we prefer our actions to be given the kind of forgiveness, mercy, and grace we refuse to offer others. Not every situation we run into or decision we make will always have a simple answer. And there are moments when life happens to us regardless of what we say and do. A wisdom shaped only by Proverbs or motivational phrases can’t withstand all the personal apocalypses that come our way. What we need is a deeper kind of wisdom that can bring us into the future God is already bringing about. 

And so that’s why I think we should view the book of Job as an apocalyptic story revealing the strengths and weaknesses of the wisdom we were given when suffering comes our way. The Book of Job does this by crafting a what-if story about a man named Job from the land of Uz who wasn’t an Israelite nor living in any place we can easily identify. We’re told Job embodied so much wholeness, integrity and righteousness that it wrapped up everyone who was a part of his household. He was blameless because he intentionally maintained his relationship with God and trusted God over everything else. Job was the kind of faithful person who lived and received the fullness of what we imagine a good life should be. But it’s at that moment when the accuser, a kind of divine prosecuting attorney, showed up and wondered how deep Job’s integrity truly was. At the start of this extended parable, the God who gave is the same God who took it away. And that’s when we begin our process of revealing and unveiling who we truly are. 

So at this time, you’re invited to take out the pink sheets in your bulletin and answer these questions: 

How do you respond when you encounter something new or different? 

What does it feel like when things just aren’t working out?

Why are things sometimes unfair or unjust? And in those situations, who is to blame?

1 The wicked flee when no one pursues,
but the righteous are as bold as a lion.
2 When a land rebels
it has many rulers;
but with an intelligent person, honesty endures.
3 A poor person who oppresses the poor
is a beating rain that leaves no food.
4 Those who forsake the law praise the wicked,
but those who keep the law struggle against them.
5 The evil do not understand justice,
but those who seek the Lord understand it completely.
6 Better to be poor and walk in integrity
than to be crooked in one’s ways even though rich.
7 Those who keep the law are wise children,
but companions of gluttons shame their parents.
8 One who augments wealth by exorbitant interest
gathers it for another who is kind to the poor.
9 When one will not listen to the [torah],
even one’s prayers are an abomination.
10 Those who mislead the upright into evil ways
will fall into pits of their own making,
but the blameless will have a goodly inheritance.
11 The rich is wise in self-esteem,
but an intelligent poor person sees through the pose.
12 When the righteous rejoice, there is great glory,
but when the wicked prevail, people go into hiding.

Proverbs 28:1-12

My sermon from the 15th Sunday after Pentecost/Holy Cross Sunday (September 21, 2025) on Proverbs 28:1-12.

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So last week, I invited you to share your thoughts about success. And I’ll admit it was neat seeing how similar – and varied – your responses were. Success is, I think, very personal and what it looks like to you might not be success for the person sitting next to you. Our ideas about success have been shaped by the culture we grew up in and it often changes depending on the experiences we have. It would be too simple to merely treat success as the fulfillment of the various goals we’ve set for ourselves. And the words you shared with me show how success is more about the life we live rather than checking off accomplishments on some kind of cultural checklist. Success, you wrote, is “financial security, living comfortably, and building a life [we’re] proud of.” It’s a way of being in the world defined by “the freedom and creativity” allowing us to make a “positive [impact]” on everyone God sends our way. Success is enfleshed in the very personal, and sometimes difficult work, of crafting “a large friend group and a loving family” that we aren’t necessarily born into. It’s the kind of life that feels “happy” but is really grounded in a joy that carries us through all the grief and hardships that come our way. Success is never easy and requires the kind of sacrifices that transform who we are. And while we often imagine success as being something we do on our own, success is truly lived out within a community that always chooses to be for one another. 

Now success, as an idea and way of being in the world, showed up in the book of Proverbs since its initial audience were the sons of wealthy families training to be the administrators, officers, and generals for the royal family. What they needed – and desired – was a kind of guide rooted in the God who had been with them from the Exodus, into the kingdom of David, through the Exile, and beyond. The law – which is really just another word for torah and the teachings, commandments, and stories of God that give us life – wasn’t meant to stay on the page or only in our mind. The steadfast love of God can also be lived out by those who don’t know what God is calling them to do. Today’s reading, which comes near the end of the book, poked and prodded at how our view of success doesn’t match God’s. And so we’re encouraged to lean towards God even when our sense of security, power, pride, and comfort comes undone. Honesty, integrity, and God’s vision of justice – rather than our own – is a gift that doesn’t merely benefit only ourselves. This wisdom, instead, builds everyone up so that our success can be defined by something other than the amount of money in our bank account. This way of living, though, doesn’t assume that our story and our experiences is the only way life is supposed to live. Instead, we’re invited to keep our soul open to the possibility that we’re not an expert on everything. We need correction; we need to listen; and we need to know it’s faithful and holy to ask each other and our God for help. And while this wisdom can feel like it’s hard to translate into the lives we actually live, God knows it’s through the little things we do that reveal the wisdom that is truly guiding our hearts. 

So that’s why I asked you last week to think about the rules your parents, guardians, and loved ones gave you. “Being on time,” “doing your homework before you play,” and “be kind to your siblings” might feel a little arbitrary or one of those things “good kids are supposed to do.” But I wonder if we could recognize how “work[ing] hard in school, go[ing] to church, [knowing] dinner is at 6:00 sharp, and [how] Sundays will always include lunch with grandma” might have been all about the kind of future we can live. That does not mean every rule we were given was good or that what we were taught was always holy and true. But when God’s wisdom is passed through the ones who came before us, we get a glimpse of the One who was willing to be born, grow up, and face the Cross for us and for all. In the eyes of a God who chose to do the hard work of reconciling humanity to God, there is nothing we can do to be more successful at being loved by God. But we can cling to a wisdom that is all about how we live, give, and share. It’s the wisdom which knows life is hard and yet has the courage to say “I was wrong” when we fail to care for ourselves and those around us. It’s the wisdom willing to go with people in the lives they live rather than assume only one kind of life matters to God. And it’s the kind of wisdom that builds a future for all where love, grace, and mercy shines. So when we pass our wisdom down, inviting those who come after us to “show up,” “consider all others feelings,” “and ask for help if you’re in over your head,” we’re not merely trying to create a life that is easier for us. We’re taking our experiences with our God and showing them how tomorrow can be so much more. It’s a future that knows “money can make life easier, but [that it can’t buy the] happiness [and joy we long for in our soul.]” It’s a future where it’s “okay not to know” and trusts we can “make the best choices, [our most loving and reverent guess] with the information” we actually have. And while it would be awesome if we could live a life without regrets, what we have – right now – is a God who is with us and who promises to never let us go. 

So I’d like us to take the next few moments to keep reflecting on the wisdom we’ve received and the wisdom we share. As you ponder the two paths Proverb’s describes, what behaviors should be rewarded and which ones should be punished? We carry with us, I imagine, a picture of what good or successful people do – as well as the bad – and so let’s sketch that out in words. And if we had the chance to give some wisdom to our past self based on the life we’ve really lived – what wisdom would we share? Please take a few minutes to write those down on the back of the bulletin or as comments on facebook and youtube. 

[pause while people write down their answers.]

Last Sunday night, one of the surprise winners at the Emmy awards was Jeff Hiller who won “best supporting actor in a comedy series” for his work in “Somebody Somewhere.” Practically everyone assumed someone else would win. His surprise – and joy – was evident during his acceptance speech as well as his various interviews backstage. And one of the questions he was asked was “what he would share with his younger self.” He said he would tell them “ “you’re going to wait tables at the Olive Garden tonight. Grit and bear your teeth through it. Steal some breadsticks. And know that in the future you’ll get a nice piece of objet (ob-jay) that will make it all worth it.” Sometimes the best wisdom we can give ourselves is to simply endure and not let our own opinion of ourselves or the opinion of others limit who we can be. But there are times when the awards don’t come; when we’ve recognized all the ways we’ve failed; when we’ve done everything right and yet the world still feels incredibly bleak and gray. It’s at those moments when wisdom as  described by the book of Proverbs isn’t enough. What we need is another word that will hold us through. And so next week, we’ll explore what that kind of wisdom looks like as we take our initial steps in the book of Job. 

1 A soft answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger.
2 The tongue of the wise adorns knowledge,
but the mouths of fools pour out folly.
3 The eyes of the Lord are in every place,
keeping watch on the evil and the good.
4 A gentle tongue is a tree of life,
but perverseness in it breaks the spirit.
5 A fool despises a parent’s instruction,
but the one who heeds admonition is prudent.
6 In the house of the righteous there is much treasure,
but trouble befalls the income of the wicked.
7 The lips of the wise spread knowledge;
not so the minds of fools.
8 The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord,
but the prayer of the upright is his delight.
9 The way of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord,
but he loves the one who pursues righteousness.

Proverbs 15:1-9

My sermon from the 14th Sunday after Pentecost/Holy Cross Sunday (September 14, 2025) on Proverbs 15:1-9.

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Earlier this week, a poll was published that asked 18-29 year olds their thoughts about success. Over 30,000 adults were invited to pick 3 out of thirteen phrases that defined what success looked like to them. These words ranged from “being financially independent,” to “having no debt,” and to “making your family or community proud.” Then, with all that information gathered, the pollsters shared which phrases mattered to people from a variety of backgrounds. Out of the thirteen options, the one at the bottom was a need to be influential and famous. The generation that grew up with social media has no real desire to be recognized while walking down the street. They also don’t imagine success having anything to do with retiring earlier since, I think, a lot of people assume that option will never exist for them. We might assume that most of us have a similar definition of what success is supposed to look like. But as we moved up the list for these 18-29 year olds, what success looked like changed depending on which sub-group they belonged to. For some men having children, achieving financial independence, and being married are a big part of what it means to be successful. Yet for women, having children and experiencing matrimony are way down on the list. There was, for some people, a deep desire to use their talents to help those around them. And for others, an expensive housing market makes owning a home less important than maintaining some emotional stability. How people ranked these different aspects of success could have laid out a roadmap of what a successful life would look like. Yet the old idea of starting a career, getting married, buying a home, and then having kids was – for most – completely out of order. The image of success other generations developed, embraced, and passed on wasn’t necessarily reflected in the definition these 18-29 year olds were actively living out. And that’s because what’s wise to us might not be wise to those who come after us. Realizing might be hard for some of us to accept. But rather than wondering what’s wrong with kids these days, we might want to ask deeper questions about how wisdom shapes the life God wants us to live. 

Now we started our journey through this wisdom last week by opening up the book of Proverbs. This book is, to me, kind of like a soundtrack for our lives since these short phrases become the lyrics and music that guides the choices we make. The initial audience for Proverbs was originally sons from wealthy families who were about to enter some kind of government service. Yet the need to grow in wisdom is something all of us are called to do. Not everything we consider to be wisdom, though, comes from our Bible. And so I invited you last week to take a moment and write down what things others have passed down to you. A few of you did touch on faith – sharing that “mom always said ‘treat others as you would like to be treated’ and how “letting go – and letting God” is a helpful corrective whenever we try to micromanage our lives.  “A winner never quits and a quitter never wins” is something I’m sure football coaches all over the country said this weekend. And learning how to “control what you can control” is something I continue to work on. Putting “one foot in front of the other,” “think before you act,” and “you make your bed, you sleep in it” remind us of the impact our words and actions always have. And I appreciate the one who wrote “check the door knob” since it’s so easy to assume the solution to every problem has to be hard. This wisdom was a gift from those we trusted – and those who we admired – serving as a guide to light our way through every joy and challenge that comes our way. And while wisdom should guide us into a more life-giving future, that isn’t the only path we can take. The book of Proverbs recognizes how our choices, actions, what we choose to pay attention to, and what we ignore often shapes what comes next. And when we put our trust in anything other than grace, mercy, and God – our fears will tear us down. Proverbs uses a lot of two line verses to invite us into a different kind of future that won’t necessarily be easy or full of peace and comfort. Yet this other future trusts that God’s way is the only Way that can carry us through. So throughout the book of Proverbs, this wisdom is fleshed out in words we’re invited to embrace. We’re asked to recognize how “a soft answer turns away wrath but a harsh word stirs up anger.” When we choose to let “a gentle tongue [be] a tree [for] life” rather than letting our words bite and harm, we allow God’s spirit rather than our own spirit shape every relationship we have. What we say, post, and share should be a kind of knowledge building others up rather than simply existing to tear them down. And that’s because God’s wisdom isn’t meant to only stay on the page. It is, rather, lived out through the interactions we have with everyone God brings our way. We often assume the good we share should feel spontaneous and be incredibly easy to do. But God’s way often requires us to make hard choices so that love, welcome, and inclusion are always at the heart of what we say and do. God’s way isn’t always the easiest way because we need to be held accountable for the various ways we put pride, wealth, comfort, and ideology before everything else. And while we often long for the kind of success that will give us peace for all of our days, the only thing that will – is a God who refuses to let the Crosses we build for ourselves and others be the end to the story. 

Now I know not all of us are 18 to 29 years old but I wonder if we might take the next few moments and write down our own views about success. On the back of your bulletin are three questions and you can also write down your answers as comments on facebook and youtube. What does success look like to you? Is it having a fulfilling career, a large family, a life that impacts others, or a bank account full of all kinds of money? Our  vision of success is often reflected in the rules we grew up with so did you have to do your homework right after school, read for 30 minutes every night, head to college, or clean your plate at every meal? And finally, what wisdom do you share with all the young people around you? What goals, practices, and ways of being in the world do you think will help them shape the future they want for themselves? We’re going to take the next three or four minutes to answer these questions and write those answers down before moving onto the song. And while the wisdom we were given might have brought us to where we are today, we can also trust  that God’s wisdom will always do so much more. 

⁸ Hear, my child, your father’s instruction,
    and do not reject your mother’s teaching,
⁹ for they are a fair garland for your head
    and pendants for your neck.
¹⁰ My child, if sinners entice you,
    do not consent.
¹¹ If they say, “Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood;
    let us wantonly ambush the innocent;
¹² like Sheol let us swallow them alive
    and whole, like those who go down to the Pit.
¹³ We shall find all kinds of costly things;
    we shall fill our houses with spoil.
¹⁴ Throw in your lot among us;
    we will all have one purse”—
¹⁵ my child, do not walk in their way;
    keep your foot from their paths,
¹⁶ for their feet run to evil,
    and they hurry to shed blood.
¹⁷ For in vain is the net baited
    while the bird is looking on;
¹⁸ yet they lie in wait—to kill themselves!
    and set an ambush—for their own lives!
¹⁹ Such is the end of all who are greedy for gain;
    it takes away the life of its possessors.

Proverbs 1:8-19

My sermon from the 13th Sunday after Pentecost (September 7, 2025) on Proverbs 1:8-19.

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If there was a soundtrack for your life, what songs would be on it? 

Now there was a time when music was a way bigger part of my life. I spent many nights standing in the poorly lit basement of a bakery while listening to bands I had never heard of before. Leaving that space with a handful of grainy photos on a dented digital camera while holding a physical CD was complete bliss. And that’s because music has a way of defining the different parts of our life. These songs can help us process, hold, and live through experiences filled with incredible joys and devastating heartbreak. And it’s also kind of neat that when we find ourselves living through a current moment that reminds us of our past, this soundtrack from our life can suddenly pop up and influence what we do next. Taking a moment to recognize how music shapes who we are by connecting us to our past, our present, and our future – gives us a taste of how the book of Proverbs – and all of the other Wisdom literature in our Bible – is meant to function in our lives. Faith is always more than something we have or believe. It is, instead, a kind of force, energy, a gift, and a way of being that impacts every moment of our lives. Our relationship with God speaks into the joys and challenges shaping who we get to be. And while trusting the Jesus who lived, died, and rose for you and the world really is the foundation of our Christian identity; we often also need ideas, stories, songs, and practical how-tos to help live that faith out loud. The books of Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes are one of the ways God provides that help for us. These books can never give us an exact response for every situation we end up living through. But they do act as a kind of soundtrack we lean into, giving us a sense of security during all the insecurity life brings. 

Now the book of Proverbs is, primarily, a composite text – weaving together material developed in different times and different places. Some of these words were probably first uttered two hundred years before David became king around the year 1000 BCE. Yet others – and final editing done to this book – might not have occurred until around 175 BCE. Almost 1000 years of life show up within Proverbs’ pages. And this book chooses to take this life and turn it into a lot of two line poetic verses to help those listening make the right decisions for their lives. These two line verses are typically shared as a kind of parallelism with the second line restating the first line in a slightly different way. But there are also lots of times when the second line challenged what the first line said, inviting us to recognize what is good and what isn’t. This poetry, though, isn’t always straightforward, often putting words out of order, leaving out verbs, and inserting random adjectives as a way to encourage us to puzzle over its meanings. And that’s because proverbs, like music and songs, choose to speak into our lives that have their own histories, stories, and experiences. Proverbs recognizes itself as a guide providing tools we can apply to the various situations we face. But when it was first written, Proverbs imagined itself as primarily a book for the learned, the educated, the rich, and the powerful living in ancient Israel. It assumed those hearing these words were sons leaving their family to take up some kind of government job. But the book also knows that growing in wisdom is a journey meant for all and that this journey never ends. Our moral and ethical values are always lived out regardless of how “good” we claim to be. And real wisdom comes with the “[w]illingness to accept correction, regardless of age or status.” Proverbs, then, chose to introduce itself in our reading today as a kind of parent – or teacher – telling a child – or a student – what God’s wisdom looks like. What God offers is a way of being in the world that is less about what you have – such as your status, your money, your intelligence, and your opinion of yourself – and is more about who God knows you can be. When we lean into something other than our God, we will be consumed by something that can never give us life. We have a responsibility to turn away from greed and the hoarding of wealth, power, and love. Instead, the soundtrack God wants for our lives is a song that does not withhold any good from whoever God brings our way. 

And so – as we begin this sermon series on God’s wisdom – I wonder if you might share a bit of wisdom someone gave you. What did a beloved parent, guardian, or parental figure give you that still lingers in your soul? When you face a particular challenge – what lyric buzzes through your mind which helps you breathe deep before you say something you regret? And when you’re faced with a choice that has only bad answers, what word points you towards hope and grace? Maybe it’s something as simple as “look both ways before you cross the street” which reminds you to not jump feet first before you examine all your options. Maybe you like to say “the Lord willing and the creek don’t rise” since we know how often our plans go awry. Phrases like “all hat and no cattle,” “an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” and “don’t put all your eggs in one basket” are the songs that shape the choices we make. And this wisdom was given to us as a guide for a future that those who came before us wouldn’t get to see. It is through the grace of God we have the opportunity to create, share, and pass down all kinds of wisdom too. So on the back of your bulletin, I’d like you to take time during the rest of worship to write down the wisdom you carry with you and drop it in the basket in the narthex. For those at home, leave a comment on facebook or youtube about all the wisdom others gave you. This wisdom matters because it speaks into the life you’ve lived. Yet it also shows why God’s wisdom – which isn’t always our wisdom – has its own value too. And that’s because God not only chose to be with you, to teach you, and to guide your way. God also chose to live as you and show the fullness of what our lives get to be. 

Amen.

⁷ When [Jesus] noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. ⁸ “When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host, ⁹ and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. ¹⁰ But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. ¹¹ For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

¹² He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers and sisters or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. ¹³ But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. ¹⁴ And you will be blessed because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

Luke 14:1,7-14

My sermon from the 12th Sunday after Pentecost (August 31, 2025) on Luke 14:1,7-14.

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Tyler Yan is a stay-at-home dad and tiktoker who regularly posts videos of what he makes for his daughter’s lunch. Each video begins with a focused shot on an empty metal bento box sitting on a white kitchen counter waiting to be filled. As a person who has been making school lunches for years, I’m always looking for ways to spice up what my kids bring to school. But what Tyler puts in his kid’s lunch box puts my lunch making skills to shame. I’d like to share with you a short list of some of the recent lunches he’s posted on Tiktok. A few days ago, he packed for his daughter some herb baked salmon over sesame rice with sliced cucumbers, edamame, yellow dragon fruit, and half an avocado on the side. Prior to that, she feasted on a wagyu burger with caramelized onions, mushrooms, and swiss cheese on a gluten-free bun. Last week, the bento box was packed with an arugula salad under some filet mignon and included jasmine rice, shitake mushrooms, and a little gourmet chocolate for dessert. But my personal favorite was the fish tacos made out of fresh fried snapper with mango coleslaw, cilantro lime rice, and a side of freshly cut dragonfruit for dessert. Each lunch looks like a literal piece of art and you can almost taste it off the screen. Yet what I also really enjoy the most about these videos are all the comments people leave. Unlike the rest of the internet, the vast majority of those words are extremely positive, celebrating the food he made. And one thing I think is very cool is how many simply post a question wondering if they could become one of his daughters too. The beauty, grace, and joy at his table make all kinds of people want to be a part of it. And that makes sense because the meals we share are about more than simply giving our body the nutrients it needs to survive. Meals are events where care is offered, love is shared, and where people who don’t always see eye-to-eye with one another have to sit down together and chew. We want to be at the table where good meals are found. And in today’s reading from the gospel according to Luke, Jesus invites us to remember how being at God’s table changes every other table we have. 

Now the meal Jesus was invited to probably resembled the kind of dinner parties popular in the Greco-Roman world at the time. The first order of business when guests arrived was for the lowest person on the social totem poll to wash their feet. That person might have been a servant, a slave, or one of the host’s younger children. And once the dirt, dust, and grime was wiped away, everyone would be invited to take their seat. Those seats, though, wouldn’t be chairs since the ancient Mediterranean world was all about stretching out on something resembling a chaise lounge. These couches were arranged at the center of the room within easy access to individual tables, trays, or a long plank where food would be placed. One thing that made these couches different, though, was they weren’t designed to seat only one. Each couch had space for three or four people to recline. Folks would lean on their left elbow and contort their body so their right hand could grab food while their feet pointed away from one another. During the meal, the enslaved or servants or maybe some of the hosts’ youngest daughters would be busy picking up plates, filling glasses, and making sure none of the food ran out. And that’s because this meal wasn’t designed to go fast. It was a long, slow event where everyone could be seen. 

Now it wasn’t enough to simply be at the party; everyone needed to see that you were there. Whenever Jesus or anyone else drew near, it was even expected for the neighbors to look out their window to see who was on the guestlist. These guests, though, weren’t only there to be noticed; they also had a lot people watching to do on their own. Paying attention to who was talking to whom, where people were sitting, who was in that room with and who wasn’t helped people recognize how other people saw them. And when they took their seats, where they sat in relation to the host of the party reflected their social status and prestige. Those nearest the host would, most likely, be the rich, the successful, those with power, those who we’d like to be, and those who the host wanted to impress. Getting on their good side was important because they were the ones who might give them a job, join in on some financial endeavor, or offer some kind of gift that would make other people feel jealous since the so-called “right kind of people” knew their name. Who we’re with often determines how much admiration, care, and attention other people give. And in a world where how others saw you determined your worth, being seen reclining on the right couch really mattered. Who you lounged with influenced what your tomorrow might be. And if you claimed a spot others felt you didn’t deserve, the harm to your reputation would last for a long time. We might think that, today, we’re beyond this kind of behavior. But all we need to do is turn on our tv and open up our social media feeds to see how much we care about being seen. For some, it’s more important to be seen as strong rather than having the character, integrity, and values that make us strong in the first place. Others care so much about being liked by the right kind of people and disliked by those they despise that they let their perspective determine their truths rather than letting the truth shape who they choose to be. When we assume we can look at someone and without hearing their story decide they’re unworthy to be at our table, we make our world incredibly small. And when we act as if every one of our moments are picture perfect; that we are always at the top of our game; and that the only thing we do in life is win – the reality we actually move through is completely pretend. When we let our worth, value, and sense of self be defined primarily by what others see, then our life doesn’t belong to us. Now Jesus, at that dinner party 2000 years ago, could have told the host, the guests, and everyone in that room that their worth was primarily defined by the love God already had for them. But instead of telling them who they are, he invited them to change their lives by living as if everyone truly mattered to God. We don’t have to live as if being seen is what makes our life worth living. We can, instead, just be and notice how expansive God’s love always is. When we intentionally expand our guest list and choose to not think too highly of ourselves; when we let others sit in the places where we want to be and focus on the care we can give; it’s at those moments when this life becomes our own. Integrity, honesty, humility, and grace are a big part of how life should be lived. And when embrace them, the meal God has already set for us comes clearer into view. It’s through baptism, the gift of faith, and those times when Jesus became real to you – when we notice the place at the table God has made for us. And this place isn’t in the back or off to the side or even below those folks we know are way more faithful than we could ever be. The seat God has given to you is at the table where the Son of God sits. The desire to be seen will always be very hard for us to shake but trust that you are worth way more than the amazing – and not so amazing – lunches you get to serve. God’s table is big enough to include folks like you. And so we, in response, can make our own meals and our own tables bigger so that they better reflect who our God chooses to be. 

Amen.

¹⁰ Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. ¹¹ And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. ¹² When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” ¹³ When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. ¹⁴ But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured and not on the Sabbath day.” ¹⁵ But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it to water? ¹⁶ And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” ¹⁷ When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame, and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things being done by him.

Luke 13:10-17

My sermon from the 11th Sunday after Pentecost (August 24, 2025) on Luke 13:10-17.

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One of the interesting things about having the same cell phone number I signed up for my freshman year of college is that most people don’t know what to do when a random 607 number shows up on their phone. The people who don’t have me saved in their contacts usually respond in two ways. First, I’ll be immediately sent to voicemail where I leave a message I hope doesn’t sound as awkward to them as it does to me. The second way folks respond, which happens way less, is they actually pick up and begin with a “hello” that feels like a question and an accusation all at the same time. They assume the number labeled “Binghamton, New York” interrupting their day must be some kind of scam. And with that one word, we sum up our collective angst, frustration, and unhappy acceptance that being negatively interrupted is simply a part of life. Every time we sit down, take a breath, or pick up a book, there’s always a dog that needs to be walked, a cat who wants to be fed, a child asking us what their favorite youtube video is to call, and a series of notifications from countless apps telling us to get up, sit down, buy something, or to watch this video designed to make our blood boil. Our attention and focus are a currency that’s always in circulation and there’s someone or thing promising their interruption will be the one that finally makes us whole and complete. Some days, all we want is a few moments for our soul to be completely undivided and directed towards what we’re supposed to do. But then a presence, a vibe, or a person interrupts us and we suddenly discover we are made for so much more. 

I like to imagine today’s reading from the gospel according to Luke to be a kind of interruption within an interruption. Jesus’ climatic journey from Galilee to Jerusalem brought him into towns and villages where his mere presence interrupted their daily life. All of the sudden, their curiosity, their questions, their conflicts, and their needs came pouring out. When the kingdom of God shows up, life happens. And it was during weekly sabbath worship in a synagogue when an unnamed woman walked in while Jesus was speaking. Now it was a tradition for communities in Jesus’ day to invite religious leaders and traveling rabbis to read a piece of scripture and offer their own teaching and interpretation during worship. Unlike other stories in Luke, we’re not told which piece of scripture Jesus read out loud or what, exactly, he was teaching. What we hear instead is how a woman’s presence interrupted him. She is, from our perspective, a bit of a mystery. We don’t know her name, her age, if she had a family or if she spent her days begging for food in the marketplace. We don’t even know what caused her to be bent though some biblical commentators speculate the bones in her spine fused together, leading to long years spent stiff, exhausted, and in chronic pain. The life she lived could have been incredibly isolating as she managed her condition as well as dealing with those who acted as if she had brought all of this onto herself. The more bent her body became, the smaller her world grew and I wish we heard what was going through her mind when she went to worship that day. Did she know Jesus would be there? Was she frustrated by how late she knew she would be since her body moved so slow? Did she almost give up going to synagogue at all? Or was it a community that felt like home since the text doesn’t act as if people were surprised, angry, or upset that she was there? We have no idea if she came to worship that day expecting her life to be interrupted. But when Jesus saw her – her presence interrupted whatever he was about to say. And he could do nothing less than notice her, pay attention, discern her entire story, and interrupt her life with compassion, hope, and love. 

Yet it’s at that moment when the grumbling started. It appeared a religious leader and probably others within the community weren’t thrilled with what they just saw. Now the healing wasn’t the issue. Rather, what bothered them was when the healing happened. I’ll admit that sounds a little weird but I also think we should give the grumblers a little slack. They had, faithfully and spiritually, come up with a rhythm for the sabbath that interrupted their ordinary day. Instead of being in the field, the marketplace, or out in a boat catching some fish, they were spending time away from what they usually do to listen to God and to one another. The sabbath, then, was a moment when the regular interruptions of our lives were pushed aside so our undivided attention could be directed towards the One who made us, loves us, and who is always with us. What the grumblers imagined the Sabbath did was interrupt our interruptions so we could just be. The Sabbath was a break from our  so-called “normal” but it wouldn’t, necessarily, interrupt things as they already were. Jesus, however, saw the Sabbath as something more. It isn’t merely a rest or a pause to help us manage everything that comes next. The sabbath is an interruption meant to break through everything that doesn’t give us life. When God paused during the story of creation, God wasn’t merely taking a breath before getting back to doing what God always does. Instead, God was inserting into the world a promise that you are always more than what you do. You are not only what happens to do you. And your illness, your schedule, your situation, your condition, and all the interruptions that take you out of your life is not the limit of who you are. You are a beloved child of God, created to be known, seen, and loved. And the sabbath is for you in ways the rest of the week is not. Now experiencing the Sabbath might require us to purposefully stop what we’re doing instead of seeing this day as an opportunity to do some yardwork or start one more load of laundry. But this could also be a moment when we choose to not let our interruptions interrupt the gifts God has given us. We can let the Sabbath be a picture for what life can be and wonder what kind of interruptions we – and those around us – need to break the pain, suffering, anger, and loneliness that does its best to consume us. The Sabbath is meant to be a moment of compassion and care that does more than simply prepare us for the week that comes. It, instead, transforms it because God’s love for you changes everything into something new. We don’t always know when a phone call or a notification or an event or an experience or when a million other things will suddenly interrupt our day. But we can embrace the interruption God gives us in the Sabbath because wholeness is God’s wish for you and for the world. Life isn’t meant to exhaust us nor are we called to exhaust and use up the lives of those around us. Instead, God’s mercy and hope interrupts all our lives so that we can discover just how life-giving we can be. 

Amen.