Give With All Your Mite

"The Life of Our Lord Jesus Christ (La Vie de Notre-Seigneur Jésus-Christ)" by  James Tissot, Nantes, France, 1836–1902, Chenecey–Buillon, France 

 Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

 

© 2024, The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was preached at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL on the 25th Sunday after Pentecost. A video of the sermon may be found here.

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.

 

This past week, our nation held its breath. Each one of us, no matter which side of the aisle we were on, felt the weight of anticipation. For some, there is relief and hope; for others, fear and frustration. And yet, here we all are today, in God’s house. We come together as a community not defined by our political stances but by a deeper calling to follow Christ and live into God’s abundant grace.

 

In times of conflict, it’s easy to feel that abundance is far away, that there’s not enough peace, not enough understanding, not enough common ground. But today’s readings invite us into a different mindset, one rooted in a profound trust in God’s abundance—even, and especially, when we cannot see it clearly.

 

Our first story from Ruth offers a window into God’s abundance showing up in ways we might never expect. Ruth and Naomi, two widows with little to their names, found themselves relying on the kindness of others. In a world that didn’t value their voices, Ruth courageously placed herself at Boaz’s feet, asking him to be their redeemer. Boaz’s choice to respond with compassion and generosity changed everything. This small act of kindness lead to a richness that didn’t just help Ruth and Naomi—it became part of a lineage leading to King David and, ultimately, to Christ Jesus.

 

In times of division, we often lose sight of the small acts that God uses to bring about healing. Ruth and Boaz remind us that abundance isn’t always about dramatic miracles or grand gestures; it’s often about simple kindness, a willingness to see and respond to the needs of others. This is a lesson that transcends any election cycle, any political party, any position. Where might God be asking us to offer unexpected kindness in a world that seems starved of it?

 

Psalm 127 reminds us that “unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” In other words, no matter how hard we try, our efforts alone cannot bring about the fullness of God’s kingdom. True security, true abundance, come from trusting in God. 

 

How often do we, in our personal or communal lives, lean on our own understanding, our own strategies, our own convictions, forgetting that it is God who ultimately holds us all? Especially in these divided times, Psalm 127 invites us to remember that no political outcome alone will bring the peace we long for. That peace comes from God’s abundance—a gift that we’re called to share, not hoard. Now let’s move to our Epistle reading for today.

 

Hebrews speaks of Christ entering “heaven itself” on our behalf. Jesus’ sacrifice was an act of total abundance—an overflowing gift of love and forgiveness that reminds us of God’s profound commitment to us. This is the abundance that has the power to heal our deepest wounds, to bring reconciliation where there has been rift.

 

As Christians, we are called to reflect this same generosity in the world. Can we see our role, especially in these times, as being agents of that abundant love? Christ didn’t give of himself only for those who agreed with him or only for those who seemed worthy. No, Christ’s love extends to all. 

 

Remember on the night before Jesus died, he washed his disciples’ feet and shared in an intimate meal with them. He did not leave out Judas who betrayed him, Peter who denied him, nor any of the other disciples who abandoned him. Self-giving, sacrificial love is the way of Christ. And, this is the model we’re invited to follow as we engage with those who may see the world differently from us.

 

Finally, we arrive at the story of the widow’s mite. Jesus observed this husband-less, and in that day powerless woman giving her last two coins, her entire livelihood. She had so little to give, but she trusted God with all of it. She believed that God would supply her needs. In her, we see faith in God’s abundance—a radical belief that God will provide, even when it seems impossible.

 

In a divided world, it is easy to feel we don’t have enough to make a difference, that our small acts of faith and love don’t add up to much. But God sees things differently. Each small act of kindness, each moment of reconciliation, each time we choose to listen rather than argue—these are our “mites,” our contributions to God’s abundant work in the world.

 

So where does this leave us, especially today? We are a people called to be signs of God’s abundance in a world that often believes in scarcity. This means choosing to be gentle with one another, to extend grace to those who may not share our views, to offer support to those who feel the weight of this election in ways we may not fully understand. 

 

God’s abundance is never diminished by being shared. In truth, it grows. So, as we go forward, let’s ask ourselves: How can we be part of God’s abundance? How can we bring healing to the hurt and reconciliation to the divisions that surround us?

 

Perhaps it’s in a conversation over coffee with someone we disagree with. Maybe it’s in reaching out to someone feeling afraid or alone. It would be wise to include praying for our leaders, regardless of who they are, that they may be instruments of God’s justice and mercy.

 

In these small acts, we become part of God’s abundant work in this broken world. We become instruments of God’s peace and partners in bringing about a kingdom that transcends every political divide. May we trust in Our Almighty and All-loving God and find courage to be bearers of that abundance, now and always. Amen.

And I Mean To Be One Too (On Tuesday)

An icon of all the saints (those known and unknown to the Church)

 

 Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44

 

© 2024, The Rev. Seth Olson

 

This sermon was preached on All Saints' Sunday (November 3, 2024) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. Video of the sermon may be found here. 

Holy God, Sanctifier of all the saints, 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.

 

Happy All Saints’ Sunday! 

Now, when I say “saint” who comes to mind? No, I am not fishing for compliments. Maybe it’s someone like former Archbishop Desmond Tutu who was instrumental in overthrowing the apartheid government of South Africa. And, who along with South Africa's First President Nelson Mandela developed the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to bring healing to a hurting nation. I once met Archbishop Tutu who was maybe 5 feet tall but whose presence was enormous!

 

On his visit to Sewanee (where I was working at the time) he greeted every student, faculty member, and administrator he met. This was nice and pro forma for most honorary degree recipients, but Archbishop Tutu also intentionally sought out kitchen workers, maintenance men, and the cleaning crew to tell them thank you. He went out of his way to express gratitude for them and to share about the interconnectedness of our lives. I am sure some of those workers who lived in rural Franklin or Grundy County, TN had no clue who that man was, but to a person they were all smiling after he spoke with them. 

 

Desmond Tutu is a Saint. The Church agrees about this. All Saints’ Day though is not for Archbishop Tutu. Well, it’s not JUST for him. All Saints’ Day is different. It’s for ALL the saints. Not just the ones that the WHOLE Church recognizes or remembers. So, if this is the case, what’s it mean to be a saint?

 

Saint, as a term, has gotten confusing, layered with unnecessary guardrails and guidelines. In the New Testament, the word simply meant a member of the Way of Christ, the nascent Church, which was living in the light of the Resurrection. Every “parishioner” so to speak was a saint. 

Nowadays we have mixed up this term. We tend to think it means someone who is “perfect” (by worldly or otherworldly metrics). Truthfully (and more to the point), the root word for saint connects to another familiar Church term “Sanctus,” the hymn of praise that we join the angels, martyrs, apostles, and heavenly hosts in singing every Sunday during Holy Communion. What are the first words of that unending anthem? Holy, holy, holy. What does it mean to be a saint? It means to be... you guessed it... holy, holy, holy. However, if you think that to be holy means to be an antisocial hermit that spends all day praying in a cave, you may have conflated the term pious with holy. To be holy means to be set apart. Sure, hermits are set apart, but that’s not the only way for God to distinguish you. Our Holy God calls us into work fit just for us—that's right, there are missions set out only for you to complete.

 

Are y’all with me still? 

 

Maybe the best way to understand all this is to indulge in some beautiful theology within one of our Communion hymns for today, “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God” by Lesbia Scott. Some do not like this folksy tune, but the hymn writer created it as a children’s song to teach about the lives of the saints on All Saints’ Day, so taken in that light, what’s not to love?! 

 

It begins, “I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true, who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.” Then, it subtly hints at some Saints of the Church—a doctor (Luke the Evangelist and Physician), a queen (Elizabeth), a shepherdess on the green (Joan of Arc). All of these folks were saints of the Church. Then, comes something important for us to understand hagiography (the study of saints): “They were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God helping to be one too.” God is helping them to be saints. Hmm?... Interesting, I wonder, does God help us in the same way... hold onto this.

[A brief aside here: Through the stanzas, then other saints are listed. And, the best bit of this hymn may very well be in the second stanza, when “And one was a soldier (Martin of Tours), one was a priest (take your pick), and one was slain by a fierce wild beast (Christopher)”[1] is sometimes switched to sing, “And one was a soldier, one was a beast, and one was slain by a fierce wild priest.” I give you permission, even blessings, to sing this today and into the future! Here endeth the aside.] Alright, so the lyric that may very well turn our understanding of being a saint on its head comes at the very end of stanza three, “For the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too.”

 

See saints aren’t just the Desmond Tutus, Queen Elizabeths, and Joans of Arc of the world. Although maybe we should remember that all these were just folk just like me (and you). Instead, all of us are called to be set apart for God’s work. All of us are to walk Christ’s Way of Love. So, what might this look like? Do we have to greet every person we meet with a smile, be burned at the stake, or get slain by a fierce, wild priest... I mean beast? Maybe, but our Holy Scripture for this day truly give us a better glimpse of how to be one too.

 

Our lessons give us powerful visions of what it means to be God’s saints, a people set apart. Not in the sense of some unreachable perfection, but as ordinary people called to live anything but ordinary lives. Isaiah speaks of a feast prepared for all peoples, a world where God will wipe away every tear. We are to be compassionate and caring for one another in good times and ill. 

 

John’s Revelatory Dream for the End of Days promises a new heaven and a new earth. We are to be a part of making this world look more like God’s Dream and less like the nightmare it often is to quote Saint Michael Curry now retired Presiding Bishop of Our Church. The Psalm reminds us that “the earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it,” which helps us see that we aren’t in this alone, but participating with God in this holy work. And in John’s Gospel, we see Jesus calling Lazarus from the tomb, bringing life where there was once only death. The saints of the Way of Christ though were the ones who unbound the once-dead Lazarus to restore him into holy community. This is our work as saints too. 

 

Taking into consideration these readings and what we’ve learned about saints, what does it look like for us, in this time and place, to be ones who are set apart for God’s work? 

 

First, consider your closest relationships: family, friends, and this church community. Being saints here means showing up with love, forgiveness, and compassion. It means working toward the common good in our neighborhoods, choosing the hard work of community over isolation. It means holding each other accountable, but also holding each other up in prayer, kindness, and encouragement.

 

Next, expand wider. In the book of Revelation, John envisions a new heaven and a new earth, one in which God declares, “See, I am making all things new!” To be a saint isn’t just a far-off hope; it’s a present call to action. We are invited to participate in God’s work of renewal now, to help bring about that new creation. And that extends into how we engage the public sphere. We can’t separate our faith from the rest of our lives—not from our workplaces, not from our schools, and certainly not from our responsibilities as citizens. 

 

This week, many of us will exercise one of those responsibilities as we go to the polls to vote. As we prepare to do so, may we remember that our call to be saints includes this responsibility, too. Saints aren’t called to retreat from the world but to engage it, to bring the values of God’s dream into every part of it. 

 

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus stands at the tomb of Lazarus and calls out, “Unbind him, and let him go.” This is Jesus’ work—to bring freedom, healing, and wholeness. And as saints, this is our work too: to bring life where there is death, to unbind where there is oppression, to heal where there is pain. This work includes every choice we make in our lives and every vote we cast.

 

We will not agree on every political issue. We will not all vote for the same candidates. And, friends that is okay, for I believe we can all agree on this: as saints, we are called to align ourselves with values and virtues that reflect God’s dream for this world. Values of compassion, justice, humility, and love. Values that lift up the vulnerable, care for God’s Creation, and protect the dignity of every human being.

 

It is no small thing to be called saints. And it’s not easy. It requires courage, sacrifice, and discernment. It means sometimes having difficult conversations, choosing the path that is harder, being willing to make decisions that go against the grain of our own interests for the sake of loving God and loving neighbor. And yes, sometimes it means making choices that challenge the status quo and disrupt patterns that keep us bound in cycles of injustice and suffering.

 

As saints, we don’t just live for ourselves. We live for others. We live for God’s vision, for the world that is possible when people walk the Way of Love. We live for that day when we will all sit down together at God’s great feast, every tear wiped away, every division healed, and every injustice made right.

 

So, this week and always, let us go forth with the courage of saints. Let us live and act as people set apart—not for our own sake, but for the sake of the world God loves. And let us remember that we do not walk this path alone. We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses—saints past and present; saints in this room and beyond—cheering us onward, guiding us forward. For the saints of God are just folk like you, and I hope you mean to be one too! Amen.

 

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[1]Pam McAllister, “What hymn celebrates lives of courage and generosity?” on Ask Her About Hymns Blog [https://askherabouthymn.com/what-hymn-celebrates-lives-of-courage-and-generosity/, written: October 27, 2016; accessed: November 1, 2024].

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.