The Fisherman and the Businessman

ChatGPT's interpretation of Paulo Coelho's parable of the Fisherman and the Businessman
 

This sermon was preached on the 21^stSunday after Pentecost (Proper 23B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the sermon may be found here. The readings for this Sunday were the following: 

Job 23:1-9, 16-17
Psalm 22:1-15
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

A man approached Jesus. Well-dressed and well-kempt, he pushed through the crowd to meet Jesus, halting the teacher and his disciples. He knelt before Jesus and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

On the surface, his question seemed simple, but the word “inherit” hinted at something deeper. He didn’t ask, “What must I do to enter or earn eternal life?” He wanted to add eternal life to his possessions, as if it were another investment. Jesus saw beyond the surface and sought to understand this man’s heart.

“You know the commandments,” Jesus began. “You shall not murder; you shall not commit adultery; you shall not steal; you shall not bear false witness; you shall not defraud; honor your father and mother.” Six of the Ten Commandments! The man responded confidently, “I have kept all these since my youth.”

Yet, his use of “kept” was telling—like holding onto a possession. Jesus didn’t challenge this directly. Instead, he did something unique in all of the Gospel according to Mark, he looked at the man and loved him. Jesus agaped him—extending the self-giving, sacrificial, abundant love of God—and yet this love is not always soft. In truth sometimes it is a tough form of love, which is why Jesus then said, “You lack one thing. Go, sell what you own, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

The man left, shocked and sorrowful, unable to let go of his possessions. But why? Perhaps he couldn’t imagine life without his wealth, or he couldn’t let go of his comfort and status. He wanted eternal life, but not at the cost of the life he already knew.

We can relate, can’t we? We often cling to our own comforts, achievements, and possessions. These things can keep us from fully embracing God’s invitation. As we hold onto them, they can hold onto us too.

Think about what happens when we clutch something tightly. Our hands are closed, unable to receive anything new. Put another way, “The things we possess, they possess us too,” or “It’s hard to follow Jesus and follow the crowd at the same time,” or as Jesus himself put it, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). Tough love, indeed. 

In this financial stewardship season, as we discern our commitment to God through time, talent, and treasure, it’s important to ask: What are we holding onto that keeps us from following Jesus? What might we need to release to receive God’s gifts more fully?

For the rich man in the story, his desire to maintain control and keep things unchanged held him back. Even with eternal life in front of him, he clung to his old ways. It was as if, he served as the forerunner to Frank Sinatra insisting on doing things “my way” instead of following the Way of Christ. We also can miss the invitation to life with God when we hold too tightly to our own ways.

Yet, the good news is that God’s love invites us to let go of what holds us back. With God, all things are possible—even releasing our need for control, status, or material comfort. As we let go of these (with God’s help), we recognize there is something more for us already here. We see that Life in Christ, the Life Eternal has already begun, and we need not wait until we have died or until we have achieved God’s grace to begin living it. No, God’s grace is already here and the Life Eternal is happening NOW!

Let me end with a parable by Paulo Coelho about how we complicate the invitation from Christ to let go and follow Him:

There was once a businessman sitting by the beach in a small Brazilian village. He watched a Brazilian fisherman rowing a small boat towards the shore, having caught quite a few big fish.

The businessman was impressed and asked, “How long does it take you to catch so many fish?” The fisherman replied, “Oh, just a short while.”

“Then why don’t you stay longer at sea and catch even more?” the businessman asked, surprised.

“This is enough to feed my whole family,” the fisherman said.

The businessman then asked, “So what do you do for the rest of the day?”

The fisherman replied, “Well, I usually wake up early, catch a few fish, then play with my kids. In the afternoon, I take a nap with my wife, and in the evening, I join my buddies for a drink—we play guitar, sing, and dance throughout the night.”

The businessman, eager to help, said, “I’m a PhD in business management. I could help you become more successful. Spend more time at sea, catch more fish, save money, buy a bigger boat, and catch even more. Eventually, you can buy more boats, set up a company, and move to a city like São Paulo. After that, you could go public, become rich, and retire to a house by a fishing village.”

The fisherman asked, “And after that?”

The businessman replied, “You can then enjoy life—wake up early, catch a few fish, play with your kids, take a nap with your wife, and join your buddies for a drink, playing guitar, singing, and dancing throughout the night.”

The fisherman was puzzled. “Isn’t that what I’m doing now?” [1]

Christ invites us to follow him into eternal life right now. We can’t buy, earn, or control our way into this life. It requires letting go of what we hold onto, releasing what keeps us from God. It’s a bold and courageous journey, but it’s the invitation God gives to each of us as beloved children.

So, let go of what keeps you from following Christ, so that you may take hold of the abundant life that God offers now and forever. Amen.

 

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[1] “The Fisherman and the Businessman,” Paulo Coelho. Written September 4, 2015. Accessed October 12, 2018. http://paulocoelhoblog.com/2015/09/04/the-fisherman-and-the-businessman/.

Softhearted Discipleship

Click the link above to view the video of this sermon.

 

This sermon was preached on the 20^th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 22B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the sermon may be found here. The readings for this Sunday were the following: 

Job 1:1; 2:1-10

Psalm 26 

Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12

Mark 10:2-16

 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

One of the things that the Search Committee shared with me this time a year ago was the desire for this community of Holy Apostles to experience dedicated formation, so that we collectively may learn the way of Christ. For the past several weeks, we’ve spent time with our Teacher Jesus learning to be students or what we often call disciples. Today’s Gospel gives us a challenging lesson about that call to learn from Christ, as we see Jesus engage in a difficult conversation with the Pharisees about divorce.

At first glance it appears that Jesus is instructing in no uncertain terms that marriage is good, and divorce is bad. However, this passage is not simply about divorce law, nor is it simply about marriage in Jesus’ time. It’s about what we value and, more importantly, whom we value.

In this Gospel lesson, the Pharisees approached Jesus with a question meant to test him. They focused on the letter of the law, particularly the mandate giving men control over women’s lives. I wish that this story was just something confined to long ago, but the obsession of some men controlling other people, especially women, has echoed hauntingly throughout the centuries. Back in Jesus’ day, a woman’s worth was limited—defined by her ability to bear children and run a household. Divorce was simple for men, who could dismiss their wives with a certificate. What mattered was the man’s authority, not the woman’s well-being.

But Jesus saw things differently. He turned the teaching on its head and pointed to a deeper set of questions: What do you truly value? Is it power? Is it self-interest? Or is it the well-being of those who have no voice—those whom society deems less than? Less than important, less than worthy, less than others.

In our time, we may look back and feel we’ve come a long way. And in some ways, we have. But still, the vulnerable among us often go unseen or unheard. Women, children, people of color, the poor, the persecuted, the immigrant, the member of the LGBTQIA+ community, the imprisoned—whom do we value? We still hear stories of injustice and hardship. In many cases, women remain undervalued in the workplace, survivors of abuse are often blamed, and vulnerable groups continue to be marginalized.

Jesus’ instruction still resonates clearly: We must value those whom society overlooks.

I see that spirit alive at Holy Apostles. Even as we gather here, I am reminded of last week’s Church in the Park service. We gathered in Shades Cliff Park not just for worship, but for connection, for fellowship, and for the sheer joy of being together in God’s creation. In more casual settings like this we have the opportunity to see each other’s true selves—the divine image-bearing part of us that we were each made to be. Together we glimpse the Kingdom of God when we extend open arms to one another, sharing our lives and our love freely. And in this Kingdom, in this Reign of Christ, we strive to emulate Christ Jesus’ own example. 

Long ago he did not say, “Don’t get divorced ever, even if you are being hurt or abused.” No, Jesus warned that divorce should not be used by men to easily dismiss their wives—leaving the more vulnerable half of the species at that time in an even more precarious situation. We are to follow the Way of Christ, not the way of the world. We must value those whom society overlooks. 

This work of reaching out to those in need is a big piece of who we are at Holy Apostles. And, it is one of the reasons why in this season of financial stewardship, I’m reminded that stewardship is more than a conversation about money. It’s a reflection on what we give worth to. You may know that worth and worship share the same root word. So, what we give worth to in our lives is what we worship—remember that the next time you review your bank statements. Sometimes I start to wonder am I worshipping God or am I worshipping Target?

The more lasting question here is where do we invest our time, our talent, and our treasure? In this season, we are being invited to ask ourselves hard questions about how we value the vulnerable, not just through our words but through our actions. Do we live out the values that Jesus embodied?

One recent example that exemplifies this kind of softheartedness is the story of Mark Elwood, a parishioner at my former church of All Saints. When Hurricane Helene hit Mark felt a tug on his heart to care for those who are vulnerable and without necessities they need. Mark worked with the people of All Saints on collecting supplies. Then, Mark flew his plane full of food, water, and essentials to give to the Rev. David Henson and the good people of St. James, Hendersonville, North Carolina. When Mark heard of the suffering of others, he let his heart be softened. 

All of us have hearts made of flesh. Even if the world tries to solidify your heart into something made of concrete, rebar, and reinforced steel, God is actively working in your life to soften that heart, so that you might reach out in love to those who are hurting. And, if you are one of the ones who is hurting, reach out and ask for help!

So, this is the question worth us pondering here at Holy Apostles: How do we keep our hearts from hardening? In a world where it’s so easy to become overwhelmed or discouraged, let’s choose a different path—the Way of Love.

Let’s ask ourselves and each other questions like: How do you stay open? How do you remain softhearted and compassionate, even in the face of adversity? These aren’t exactly new questions—they are ones that people of faith have wondered for centuries—but it feels particularly pressing in our current moment. When the world around us grows tough, when we’re tempted to shut down or turn away, how do we keep that childlike openness Jesus speaks about in today’s Gospel?

It may seem disconnected, but in the Gospel according to Mark everything is connected. So, when Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me” it’s no coincidence. The children, in their innocence and vulnerability, are central to this passage. In a culture that often overlooked them, Jesus welcomed them. He knew that to embrace God’s Kingdom, we need a childlike heart—one that is tender, open, and receptive.

This is what I long for from us as a community at Holy Apostles—to talk regularly about how we might actively seek out ways to give our hearts to God. I’ve often heard people share how our music, prayers, relationships, and liturgy all play a role in softening their hearts. These practices help us remain open to God’s presence and to the needs of others. In all these ways we are invited to give our lives over to God who takes, blesses, breaks, and gives our hearts and lives back to us transformed. This might sound a bit scary frankly because it is. Giving over our hearts to be broken sounds scary, and I have apprehension about this. 

And yet, a few years ago, I came across a profound insight from Brother Curtis Almquist of the Society of St. John the Evangelist, which helped me to step into this endeavor of softening my heart with newfound refreshment. Brother Almquist told the story of a young monk who came to his superior for wisdom.

The novice said he found it strange that in the Old Testament there were many references to the Word of God being written on our hearts. The young man added that it made no sense for God’s word to be etched on the outside of our hearts. The old monk sat and thought for a moment, then asked, “I wonder if the Word of God is written on our hearts, so that when our hearts inevitably break, God’s Word will fill our hearts and make them whole once more.” Sometimes it is only through our brokenness that we truly embody God’s compassion and love.

So, what do we do when we feel our hearts hardening? When it’s easier to protect ourselves than to remain vulnerable? Jesus offers us the way forward in this Gospel: we are called to soften our hearts by receiving the Kingdom like a child. That means living with compassion, humility, and openness—even when it’s difficult.

As we continue through this season of stewardship, I encourage each of you to ask: What do I value? Whom do I value? How does my life reflect these truths? And, where is God calling me to soften my heart? 

Whether it’s through our ministries, our personal relationships, or in the way we engage with the world, may we be people whose hearts are tender, ready to welcome the vulnerable, and eager to reflect the love of Christ.

May God grant us the grace to keep our hearts soft, and when they break, may they break open to receive God’s living Word. Amen.

More Alike, My Friends, Than Unalike

Audio of this sermon may be found by clicking the link above.

This sermon was preached on the 19^th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 21B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles' Church in the Park. You may listen to audio of this sermon by clicking here. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following: 

Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37

Opening Prayer: Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

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Good morning, and welcome to Church in the Park! There’s something about being outside, surrounded by creation, that invites us to reflect more deeply on God’s Word and how we live out our faith.

As we know well given our geographical location, there is some debate among college sports fans about... well, about everything! Who's the best? Who has the grandest traditions? And one of my favorite sports radio debate topics: Which rivalry is the fiercest? 

Yesterday, I turned 40 years-old, and now with all my newfound mid-life wisdom, I am here to tell you the answer to this final question: It may surprise you. It may shock you. But… the most intense college rivalry that exists is... not the Game (Michigan vs. Ohio State), not the Egg Bowl (Ole Miss vs. Miss. State), nor is it even our beloved Iron Bowl. No, the most passionate competition in all of collegiate athletics is… the everlasting rivalry between Sewanee and Rhodes. Okay, I know... that's most assuredly not true; however, that is the long-standing competition with which I am most familiar. 

During my college years, I ran track & field and cross-country. While I enjoyed middle-distance running on the track, I loved cross-country. Maybe it was the scenic setting, maybe it was because we didn't have to wait around all day for all the events to conclude, or maybe it was the fun of a small group of athletes training, performing, and traveling together across the Southeastern United States, but whatever it was, I loved it! And, to tell you the truth, one of the things I loved most about these competitions was competing against our biggest rivals, the Lynx from Rhodes College. 

Almost every year when we would travel to Memphis to run against Rhodes or when they would journey east to Sewanee to run against us, my teammates and I would spend time visiting with the enemy. Gasp! During my senior year NCAA DIII Regional meet, I spent most of the race pacing off—not teammates—but rivals from Rhodes. 

Now, from a competitive standpoint, I may not have wanted the Lynx runners to outperform my team; however, like all good competitive endeavors, the sport is not the main point. Some of you may be looking at me as though I am speaking blasphemy. However, there are life lessons which sports can teach us that are far more important than the outcome of any contest.

In today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus was not giving his disciples a pep talk, but nonetheless, his words undercut holding onto a competitive worldview. What I mean is that in the face of arguments over greatness and who’s the best, Christ Jesus provides us with another way—not either/or, all or nothing, us or them—but something else. Christ—who is the pattern and author of our lives—tells us a profound truth that we need to write on our foreheads and, more importantly, on our hearts not just during college football season, but also during this divisive election cycle: Whoever is not against us is for us.

Jesus said these exact words. The disciples, like many of us, were focused on who was in and who was out—who was part of their group, their tribe, their circle. They came to Jesus, upset because someone who wasn’t in their group was casting out demons in his name. And what does Jesus say? He doesn’t join them in their complaints. Instead, he says, “Whoever is not against us is for us.”

This is a surprising and perplexing response. After all, the disciples are worried about protecting their turf, maintaining control over who gets to use the name, image, and likeness of Jesus. But Jesus is inviting them—and us—to think bigger, to look beyond the boundaries we so often set up for ourselves. He’s saying that the work of God isn’t limited to our small, exclusive circles. God’s love and mercy spill over those boundaries, into the lives and work of people we may not expect.

We live in a world that loves to draw lines though. Whether it’s in sports, politics, or even religion, we’re constantly encouraged to decide who is on our side and who isn’t. And that can lead to division, to a mentality of “us versus them.” But Jesus’ words challenge us to see beyond those divisions. Jesus reminds us that the Spirit of God is at work in ways we can’t always see—and sometimes through people we wouldn’t choose or expect.

Think about the world we’re living in right now, particularly as we endure this election season. It can feel like we’re being asked to choose sides, to see people who disagree with us as enemies. But what if we took Jesus’ words seriously? What if, instead of focusing on who’s against us, we started to look for common ground, for the ways that people are working toward good, even if they’re not doing it in the same way we are? 

One of my favorite quotes comes from the poet Maya Angelou, who once said, “We are more alike, my friends, than unalike.” Let that sink in for a moment. What if we approached our neighbors with that mindset? What if we really believed that, despite our differences, we are more alike than unalike?

This doesn’t mean we ignore real disagreements or pretend that everything is fine when it’s not. But it does mean we take a step back from drawing lines in the sand. We can work alongside those we might not fully agree with if they are doing good, if they are working for the flourishing of others. In the same way, Jesus calls us to look at the bigger picture and to remember that the work of God is more expansive than we realize.

At the end of the day, it’s not about winning or losing—it’s about living out the love of God in the world. It’s about recognizing that God can work through all kinds of people, even those who might not be part of our “team.” 

So, here’s my invitation to us this week: Let’s take Jesus’ words to heart. Let’s look for the ways people around us are doing good, whether they’re in our group or not. Let’s resist the urge to divide the world into “us” and “them” and instead live into the truth that whoever is not against us is for us.

May God give us the grace to see the Spirit at work in surprising places and through unexpected people, and may we have the humility to join in that work, trusting that we are more alike, my friends, than unalike. And, for that, thanks be to God. Amen.

 

Stewardship and Servanthood: Becoming Last to Become First

  

 

This sermon was preached on the 18^th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 20B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. You may watch the video of this sermon by clicking here. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following: 

Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37

Opening Prayer: Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

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Introduction

Has the following ever happened to you: You are engaged in a very important conversation—maybe this is with your spouse, a sibling, parent, or friend. Together you are treading into some newfound insight that has the power to change your life forever, but all of a sudden, the conversation gets sidetracked such that you find yourselves arguing over doing the dishes, who was mom and dad’s favorite child, why things aren’t as good as they used to be, or whose college football team is the best. If you’ve ever had a moment of divine clarity diverted by an argument over power or greatness, then today’s Gospel lesson is for you. 

(And to be clear, I believe we have all fallen prey to missing the important bit because our egos gets in the way)

In this Gospel lesson, Jesus and his disciples were journeying through Galilee. On the way, he shared with them the stark reality of what was to come: his betrayal, death, and resurrection. But rather than sitting with this profound teaching, the disciples found themselves caught up in a different conversation—one about authority and importance. 

We can imagine the scene. While Jesus spoke of transformative sacrifice, the disciples argued over perceived greatest. This tension between self-interest and sacrifice was not a new struggle even then, nor was it confined to the disciples long ago. It is a decision point we all face, especially in moments when we are asked to give of ourselves or when we are asked to take the path of service rather than self-promotion.

When they arrived in Capernaum, Jesus directly confronted the disciples’ argument. His response is a powerful reminder of what it means to be his follower: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” To illustrate his point, Jesus brought a child into their midst, a symbol of vulnerability and dependence. This was a particularly radical act in the first century when children were seen more as property than as people. Jesus enlightened those listening that welcoming the child is the same as welcoming him—and by extension, welcoming God.

What a profound teaching this is, particularly as we begin our financial stewardship campaign—Walk In Love. The heart of the spiritual practice of stewardship is not about status, power, or comfort. It’s about embracing the call to servanthood—about being last so that others may be first. It is about welcoming the vulnerable, the marginalized, and the dependent. And it is about living out our faith in a way that reflects Christ’s own generosity and sacrificial love.

Stewardship as an Act of Servanthood

In a world that often rewards ambition and individual achievement, Jesus calls us to live differently. He invites us to see greatness not in wealth or power but in humility and service. This is the essence of Christian stewardship. When we give, we are participating in the divine economy of grace—a system in which our resources are not hoarded but shared for the sake of others. 

Stewardship, then, is not simply a financial transaction. It is a spiritual practice, a discipline of the heart. Through our giving, we are called to align ourselves with Jesus’ example of servanthood. As we embark on this season of financial stewardship, we are invited to reflect on how we might “become last” in order to serve those in need, and how we can use our resources to welcome others into the embrace of God’s love.

Welcoming the Child: A Model for Stewardship

Jesus’ act of welcoming a child into the circle of disciples speaks volumes to us today. The child represents those who have little power, influence, or wealth—those who are often overlooked or undervalued in society. When Jesus takes the child into his arms, he makes a profound statement about where our priorities should lie. 

Who are the “children” in our midst today? Who are the ones Jesus is calling us to welcome through our stewardship? Perhaps it is the struggling family who relies on our church’s outreach ministries, the neighbor who finds solace in our community, or the young person seeking a place to belong. Our financial contributions are not merely about maintaining programs or keeping the lights on. They are about extending the welcome of Christ to those who need it most.

In giving, we are not just meeting the needs of the church; we are partnering with God in the work of transforming lives. Stewardship is about embracing this responsibility and seeing our gifts as a means to further God’s mission in the world.

Sacrificial Giving as a Reflection of Christ’s Love

The disciples’ argument over who is the greatest is a reminder of how easy it is to get caught up in self-interest. But Jesus shows us another way. His life was one of radical generosity, pouring himself out for the sake of others. As we reflect on the call to stewardship, we are asked to give in a way that reflects Christ’s own sacrificial love. 

Sacrificial giving does not mean giving until you get into financial trouble, but it does invite us to give in a way that stretches us. It invites us to step out of our comfort zones and consider how we might use the blessings we have received to bless others. This might mean giving more than we initially planned or reassessing how we prioritize our finances. But in doing so, we are living into the example Jesus set for us.

Stewardship: A Response to Grace

Finally, we must remember that stewardship is a response to grace. It is not something we do out of obligation or fear, but out of gratitude for all that God has done for us. When we give, we are not simply supporting the work of the church—we are responding to the incredible generosity God has already shown us. Every gift we offer is a tangible expression of our gratitude for God’s abundant blessings.

As we begin this season of financial stewardship, I encourage you to reflect on how your giving is a reflection of your faith. How might God be calling you to use your resources to serve others? How can we as a community grow in our commitment to welcome the vulnerable, the marginalized, and the overlooked?

Let us remember that greatness in the kingdom of God is not measured by wealth or status, but by our willingness to serve. May we embrace the call to be “last of all and servant of all,” and in doing so, may we reflect the heart of Christ, who gives everything for our sake.

Amen.

 

The Way of Discipleship: Taking Up the Cross

Click the photo above to experience worship at Holy Apostles

 

This sermon was preached on the 17^th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. You may watch the video of this sermon by clicking here. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following: 

 

Proverbs 1:20-33
Psalm 19
 James 3:1-12
Mark 8:27-38

 

Opening Prayer: Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

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Introduction: Who Do You Say That I Am?

Today’s Gospel lesson from Mark transports us into a moment of critical clarity. Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do people say that I am?" And the answers come quickly: John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets. But then Jesus gets personal, turning to the twelve and asking, "But who do you say that I am?"

This question is at the heart of discipleship. It forces each of us to confront our own understanding of Jesus and his mission. Peter’s response, "You are the Messiah," reveals his faith, but as we soon see, it’s not fully formed. Peter, like many of us, is still learning what it means to follow Jesus. Discipleship, after all, is not about having all the right answers; it’s about being on a journey of growth and transformation.

The Hard Road of Discipleship

After Peter’s declaration, Jesus speaks openly about the suffering that lies ahead: the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, be rejected, killed, and rise again. This was not the triumphant Messiah that Peter expected. Peter reacts as many of us would, recoiling from the idea of a suffering Savior, rebuking Jesus for this talk of death and defeat.

Jesus responds to Peter’s resistance with harsh words: "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things." Jesus challenges Peter—and challenges us—to see beyond worldly success, comfort, and power. Discipleship is not about achieving greatness in the eyes of the world; it’s about aligning ourselves with the will of God, even when that path leads to sacrifice.

Taking Up the Cross

Jesus then turns to the crowd, widening the scope of this message. His call to discipleship is not only for the twelve but for everyone. "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."

This is the heart of discipleship: self-denial, carrying the cross, and following Jesus. It’s a call to lose our lives in order to save them, to let go of our attachment to worldly success so we may embrace the way of the cross. But what does this look like in our everyday lives?

For some of us, this might mean stepping out of our comfort zones, letting go of the need to control, or being willing to face ridicule or rejection for the sake of the gospel. For others, it might mean a deep inner transformation—a willingness to let go of pride, selfishness, or fear in order to truly follow Christ’s way of love and service.

Discipleship at Holy Apostles: Growing as Students of Jesus

Here at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles, we are all students of Jesus. The call to discipleship is a call to lifelong learning. We are called to listen to Jesus’ teachings, not just with our ears but with our hearts, to let his words reshape our lives and our communities.

This passage from Mark invites us to reflect on how we, as a church, can continue to grow in discipleship. Are we willing to embrace the difficult, countercultural path of following Jesus? Are we willing to set aside our own desires and agendas in order to serve others in Christ’s name?

One of the ways we can take up our cross is by becoming more intentional about how we live out our faith in the world. Discipleship isn’t limited to what happens within the walls of the church—it’s about how we live every day. How do we treat our neighbors, our co-workers, and the strangers we encounter? How do we embody Christ’s love in our families and communities?

Conclusion: Losing and Gaining Life

Jesus’ words may seem difficult, even drastic: "For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it." This is the paradox of discipleship. When we cling too tightly to our own lives, our own desires, we end up losing sight of what truly matters. But when we let go—when we surrender to the way of Christ—we find a deeper, truer life, rooted in love, mercy, and justice.

As we reflect on what it means to take up our cross, let us remember that discipleship is not a solitary journey. We walk this path together, as a community of faith, supporting and encouraging one another as we seek to follow Christ more closely.

May we have the courage to answer Jesus’ call, to take up our cross, and to live lives of radical discipleship. Amen.

 

Faith in Action

Video of worship from the 16th Sunday after Pentecost at Holy Apostles, Hoover, AL

 

This sermon was preached on the 16^th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 18B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. You may watch the video of this sermon by clicking here. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following: 

 

Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23
Psalm 125
James 2:1-10, [11-13], 14-17
Mark 7:24-37

 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

Beloved friends, this passage from the Letter of James confronts us with a powerful challenge: Can faith without action truly save us? By this I mean, will an inactive faith bring us into the fullness of Life in Christ? In our lives, it can be easy to speak of faith, to talk about love and mercy, but as James reminds us today, words alone will not reveal the kingdom of God in our midst. This is not a comfortable teaching, as it calls us to account for our actions—or, as James suggests, for our inactions.

We see in James's vivid imagery the practice of favoritism that has, sadly, plagued humanity for centuries. James was the half-brother of Jesus and was tasked with leading the nascent Church in Jerusalem after Christ ascended to the right hand of the Father. James led this community of the Way through challenging times, like the Romans’ destruction of the Temple. As a pastor, James saw first-hand the social distinctions of his day.

The one with gold rings and fine clothes is invited to sit at the place of honor, while the one in rags was told to sit at our feet or to stand in the back. Do we not see this same behavior today? We may be subtler about it; however, in our assemblies, in our workplaces, even in our churches—do we not sometimes give deference to those who appear more powerful or more well-off while overlooking those whom we deem less significant?

I think about the countless ways our society divides us. Wealth, race, education, and social status all play into this ugly game. Almost thoughtlessly we comply with the competitive nature of our society. We buy into a myth, a lie that says scarcity is the way, that life is all or nothing, you either win or you lose. But James holds up a mirror to us: “Have you not made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?” God shows no partiality, and neither should we. In truth, James reminds us that God has chosen the poor to be rich in faith, heirs of the kingdom. If we dishonor them, we dishonor God’s own heart. This does not have to be our way. Instead of following the rulers of this world we may choose to follow Christ the King.

James urges us to fulfill Christ’s royal law. What’s the royal law? According to Christ Jesus: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” We already know this, but there’s something that may be harder to know or at least harder to admit: It’s easy to love the neighbor who looks like us, thinks like us, or lives like us. The real challenge, as James points out, is loving the neighbor who might make us uncomfortable—the one who calls us out of our bubbles of security and forces us to reckon with the brokenness in the world. This love requires us to go beyond sentiment; it calls us to action.

Fortunately for us in our hurting and broken world, there is a lot of action for us apostles to complete. And, today, right after this service you’ll have a host of ways to participate in apostolic action. Stick around today to participate in the Ministry Fair. There you can learn about and sign up for ways to grow your faith, to live out your faith, and to connect your faith with works that have the power to move us collectively from the feeling of love to the action of love.

James certainly knew about this need to have a living faith. Perhaps, that is why James was insistent that faith without works is dead. Now, make no mistake, he’s not saying that we earn our way into God’s grace through good deeds. No, our faith is a gift. But if we have received the gift of faith, how can we not respond by living it out in the world? How can we look at a person in need and simply say, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,’ without providing for their needs? And yet, even when we miss the mark here God’s grace abounds.

For at the heart of this passage stands the transformative power of mercy. James says, 'Judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment.' What a radical idea! We live in a world that often values judgment—whether in the legal sense, in social media, or in our day-to-day interactions. We can even become judgmental of those who do not serve others or help those in need. But God’s law of liberty calls us to show mercy to all, to meet others where they are with compassion, to offer not condemnation but healing.

This is not easy. Showing mercy can be exhausting and uncomfortable, especially when it challenges our preconceived notions of who deserves help and who does not. However, if we are truly living into our faith, then mercy will rightly reside at the center of our actions.

Alongside mercy, we are called to embody our faith through works of justice and love. When we see someone in need, our response cannot be limited to mere words of well-wishing. If we have the means, we are called to act. If we do not have the means, we are called to find ways to support others in the work of mercy. This is how the world sees the Body of Christ alive and at work in the world—through our collective efforts to heal, feed, clothe, and love. They will know we are Christians by our love. I think there’s even a song about that.

This passage from James is as relevant today as it was when it was written. The gap between rich and poor, the divisions of class and status—these are still with us. But in Christ, we are called to a different way of being. We are called to tear down the barriers that divide us, to lift up the poor, and to live out our faith with integrity. Faith without works is dead because faith, at its heart, is about transforming the world in love. Not a love of sentimentality, but a love of sacrifice, of self-giving, and of service, especially to the least, the lost, and the unloved.

So, my beloveds, let us not be content with empty words. Let us not fall into the trap of favoritism, judging others by their appearances or status. Instead, let us live out Christ’s royal law of love. Let us be doers of the word, and not hearers only. Let our faith shine brightly, not only in what we believe but in what we do—how we love, how we serve, how we welcome all into the fold of God’s grace. May our faith be alive with the works of mercy, justice, and love that reflect the heart of God.

God is There and God is Loving Us

 

This "Ditch the Label" video invites us to wonder are we living a lie on Social Media?
 

This sermon was preached on the 15^th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 17B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. You may watch the video of this sermon by clicking here. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following: 

 

Song of Solomon 2:8-13

Psalm 45:1-2, 7-10

James 1:17-27

Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

 

Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your words, may your people know the same. Amen.

There is an anti-bullying charity called Ditch the Label. A few years back this organization published a video about the lies that people tell on Social Media. These are not “fake news” lies, but rather lies that people—even friends—tell one another. 

In the video, one scene features a young woman jump out of bed in the morning to wash her face, fix her makeup, and return to bed where she takes a picture that she posts to show, “I woke up like this,” even though she did not. Another segment shows a series of people making great life decisions like going on a bike ride, getting organized at work, and drinking a healthy juice—except all of those pictures were staged; they did not tell the whole truth. Still another clip depicts a group of friends all on their smart phones at a restaurant, then after they ask the waitress to take a picture of them together smiling, one posts the photo with the caption “quality time with friends”—really? 

This video has been seen over 23 million times on YouTube, and it displays the all too popular trend of people double-dealing on social media about what they are doing, or feeling, or even who they are! We might recoil at the thought of doing this—lying about how we’re having the best time ever sipping our Triple, Venti, Half Sweet, Non-Fat, Caramel Macchiato, fibbing about how we killed our crossfit workout this morning or capping about how we are lit and have W rizz, or whatever Gens Z and Alpha are saying. Even if we shutter at the thought of being outright duplicitous, it is all too common for each of us to make small edits to how we portray ourselves in the world. When we do this we shield the darkness that is inside, so that no one else sees it—and I do not mean online, but in real life—IRL.

The hard truth is that you and I have dirt within us. No, I don’t mean because we have consumed soil, like how Les Miles used to chew grass on the sidelines at LSU—Happy Football Season, by the way! When I say we have dirt within us, I mean all have sin within them, and when I say sin, I mean distortion of relationship with God, self, neighbor, and Creation. 

Sinful is not how we were made, we were made in God’s image, but the hard truth of our brokenness is quite apparent in the reckoning that we collectively have endured in recent years. Even trusted news anchors, beloved actors, world-class athletes, and church leaders both within and beyond the Episcopal Church have wickedness within them. You have come to church today, and that is commendable, especially on Labor Day Weekend, but it doesn’t mean that you are exempt from what I am saying. Even though I am standing here in this pulpit, I’m not excused from it either. We are not a gathering of pious saints better than everyone else, no we are a group of recovering sinners just like everyone else. 

I would love to tell you that there is a silver bullet or a secret pill to stop you and me from causing others pain, making mistakes, or distorting relationships—all those things that Jesus listed in today’s Gospel lesson, but that’s just not true. As Elisabeth Johnson, a Lutheran professor and missionary wrote in a commentary on this Gospel lesson, “No law or tradition can protect us from the darkness that lurks within our own hearts. We can try to project a squeaky clean image, but one way or another, the evil within will find its way out. The highly edited version of ourselves, the façade that we present to the world, will crumble sooner or later.”[1] These words ring so clearly of truth, and they describe something that is not new. The Pharisees of long ago exemplified this very behavior too. 

Often Pharisees are trashed by preachers and good Christians alike. Horrifyingly though, we are more like them than we might know or admit. You and I are here because coming to Church brings us closer to God, it gives us a good foundation for building solid lives, and it provides us a way to say thank you to God. All of these things were true also of the Pharisees. When Jesus chastised the Pharisees in today’s Gospel lesson, he did so not because they were faithful, nor because they thanked God, nor because they guarded traditions, although often that’s what preachers talk about on days like today. No, Jesus was frustrated because even the most well-intended traditions, religious laws, and spiritual practices cannot cordon us off from the dangers that exist within our own souls. 

If you and I are honest and not just focused on how we present ourselves to the outside world. If you and I instead see who we are then, we will see the distorting behaviors from this Gospel, not in someone else, but in ourselves. That’s right I will see fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, and folly in myself. And you will see it in yourself, too. No amount of editing on social media can take those things away. No law can protect us from them. No rules can shield us from those things. Nor can even the best spiritual practices keep us from experiencing that darkness within us. Although religious traditions and practices can be helpful in living our lives; they cannot do what God alone does—they cannot do what Jesus made clear in this passage.

The bits about the law and sin from today's Gospel lesson may cloud our understanding, but Good News shines through this passage. Namely, our Cosmic Christ, the Son of God clearly gleams a truthful light within each of us. Christ Jesus sees all those things that exist in the darkness in us. And yet, God Incarnate did not, does not turn away. Jesus could have run for the hills—or I guess to heaven—when he recognized that human beings were fallen, broken, and corrupted. But, that’s not what he did. Even when we edit ourselves online and in real life, Christ Jesus knows our truth—what resides within the hidden recesses of our hearts, what fibs we tell online, what sins we cannot help but endure. And even knowing all this, Jesus loves us still. He loves us always. Jesus most obviously showed this in his actions of including the outcasts, loving the unlovable, and reaching out to the unreachable. The most religious, the least religious, the unreligious—all are loved by this one who came to show us what true religion looks like—LOVE. 

The good news, the best news, is what we know to be the truth in Christ. Even in the shielded side of our souls that we want no one else to know about, God is there, and God is loving us. Even when we as human beings betray, torture, or kill the Christ in one another over and over again, God is there, and God is loving us. Even when we experience others transgressing against us, God is there, and God is loving us. God’s response now and always is to be with us and to love us. But, we cannot, we must not simply rest on this overwhelmingly Good News, this treasure that is God’s love. Instead, allow that love to take over your life, allow it to overcome you, allow it to transform you into a new creation, a new being, a new you. 

If God loves us even knowing our inner flaws, then let us follow in this love. Love yourself even knowing your filth and failings. Love others even when they throw dirt on you. Love Creation because our place on this earth, our island home, is fragile. Love God because God loved you first and loves you always. God graces us with love that we neither earn nor deserve. May we bravely endeavor into our own inner darkness, may we be made new in the love of Christ, then may we share this love with each other, with ourselves, with all Creation, and with the Creator of us all. Amen.

 

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[1] Elisabeth Johnson, “Commentary on Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23” from The Working Preacher Website. 

[https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-22-2/commentary-on-mark-71-8-14-15-21-23-3, published September 2, 2018, accessed August 27, 2024].