This Also Is What Love Looks Like

God's self-emptying love is on full display in the empty tomb when we realize that nothing—not sin, not suffering, not even death—nothing can separate us from God.

At The Liturgy of the Word

Genesis 1:1-2:4a [The Story of Creation]
Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21 [Israel's deliverance at the Red Sea]
Isaiah 55:1-11 [Salvation offered freely to all]
At The Eucharist

Romans 6:3-11 

Psalm 114

Matthew 28:1-10 

©2026 The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was not preached at the Easter Vigil at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL because I left my manuscript in my office. A video of another message that I did preach may be found by clicking HERE.

Holy God, may my words be your words and when my words are not your

words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

We began tonight in the dark.

Not as a gimmick.

Not as a dramatic flourish.

But because the darkness tells the truth.

Because there are places in our lives—and in this world—that feel like tombs.

Places where hope feels buried.
Where meaning feels unclear.
Where God feels absent.

Tonight, after starting the first fire of Easter—thank you, Pierce for your help—we lit the LIGHT OF CHRIST

And into that darkness, the flame proceeded.

A single candle at first.

Not enough to light everything all at once.

But enough to wander to our places.

And then we listened.

To story after story after story.

Creation.
Exodus.
Prophecy.

And if we’re honest, part of us might wonder:

“What do these ancient stories have to do with me?”

Because we know what science says about creation.
We know history is complicated.
We know the world doesn’t always look like Isaiah’s vision.

And yet…

if we stay long enough…
if we sit in the darkness instead of rushing past it…

something begins to happen.

We begin to see.

That God has never been absent.

Not in creation.
Not in chaos.
Not in exile.
Not in suffering.

God has always been on the move.

Always creating.
Always liberating.
Always loving.

And most clearly—yes—in Jesus.

But not only there.

Because tonight reveals something deeper:

God’s love is not limited to one moment in history.

It is woven through all of it.

And that means God’s love is woven into our lives, too.

Even the parts we don’t understand.

For if God is the Great Mystery and we are made in God’s image…
We too are made of mystery, so we’re always learning more about who we are and whose we are.

God’s love is woven into the parts that feel broken.
For God in Christ Jesus did not come to earth in search of the 99, but the 1 lost one…
We know that the liberating salvation Christ brings means that He enters our messiness not to sterilize it, but to call new life into being.

Even in the parts of us that feel like tombs, God’s love comes.

For the Spirit of God continually breathes new life—not as the world sees it—but as God sees resurrected life…

We discover that the whole shape of our lives is life, death, and resurrection—order, disorder, and reorientation. 

And then—after all the stories—comes not only the Gospel meaning Good News, but the Bestspel meaning Best News! 
The stone is rolled away.

The tomb is empty.

Christ is risen.

Alleluia.

And while this truly is the best news, I want you to notice this:

The resurrection is not magic.

It is mystery.

It is not a trick.

It is transformation.

It does not erase what came before.

It reveals that nothing—not sin, not suffering, not even death—
has the final word.

Because this is what love looks like.

Love that creates.
Love that liberates.
Love that suffers.
Love that endures.
Love that rises.

And now…

that love is not just something we observe.

It is something we are invited into.

To become.

To embody.

To live.

So that our lives—
in all their imperfection and all their beauty—
become signs of resurrection.

Places where eternal light breaks in.

Places where earth-shaking hope returns.

Places where self-emptying love refuses to die.

Alleluia.

Christ is risen.

And we are being raised with him.

Amen.

Under the Wings of Love

When given the chance to compare himself to anything Jesus chose a mother hen!

 

Deuteronomy 26:1-11

Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16

Romans 10:8b-13

Luke 4:1-13

 

©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

This sermon was inspired by the above readings and was preached on the Second Sunday in Lent at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL.

 

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

 

Speaking of words, words are clumsy things.

 

Each week, I try to use them to describe the indescribable, to frame the infinite, to map the contours of a mystery far beyond us, yet infinitely near. 

 

One of my favorite comedians, states that priests and preachers weekly (or is it weakly—W-E-A-K-L-Y) get up to give a book report they’ve had 2,000 years to prepare. He’s not wrong. The words we have, and I use, for God—Lord, Rock, Shepherd, King, Redeemer, etc.—are like arrows launched toward something greater, but often they never quite land where I was aiming. Still, I try… we try… to wrap words around the Great Mystery that is the Divine intermingling with us humans. Like how we see the sacred and the mundane interweaving in today’s readings: 

 

Abram sees a vision in the night, and God speaks of descendants as countless as the stars. But have you ever tried counting the stars, really? It’s nearly impossible! So, how does one measure a promise that vast?

 

The Psalmist declares, The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear? But fear so often pervades our lives—lurking in shadows, whispering lies. What does it mean to trust in a God we cannot see, to believe in safety beneath wings we cannot touch with our hands?

 

Paul invites us to citizenship in heaven, but our feet are planted on earth. Do we get a dual passport—one from the nations of earth and one from the Kingdom of God?

 

And then there’s Jesus standing in the streets of Jerusalem, lamenting over the city, reaching for an image—something, anything—that might convey his longing, his love. And so, the Son of God reaches into his bag of analogies and calls himself… a mother hen.

 

A hen. Not a lion or an eagle or a mighty warrior, but a small, vulnerable creature with open wings, yearning to gather her children home.

 

If ever there were proof that we need poetry to speak of God, here it is.

So today, instead of my ordinary attempts at explanation—my grasping at theological coherence, my striving to box the Word of God into something neat and orderly, like Peter wanting to build booths on the Mount of the Transfiguration to house Jesus, Moses, and Elijah—instead of this, let us lean into the poetic.

 

Let us take these scriptures, these visions, these laments, and listen for something deeper.

 

Let us set aside our need to explain God, and instead simple experience God in the beauty of metaphor. 

 

“Under The Wings Of Love”

 

The night sky swells with promise,
a sea of stars stretching beyond Abram’s weary sight.
He stands, old and childless,
heart aching with unanswered prayers,
palms empty with waiting.

And yet, God whispers—
Look up.

Count the stars, if you can.
Count the impossibilities I make possible.
Count the barren places I fill with life.
Count the moments when you thought I was absent,
but I was nearer than your own breath.

 

Beloved of God,
do you trust this promise?
Can you see the light when the night is deep?
Can you hold fast when all around you shakes?

 

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem—
the city of holy longing,
the city of prophets and blood,
the city that cannot recognize Love
even when LOVE stands before them, arms wide.

How often I have wanted to gather you,
like a mother hen, wings outstretched,
a fierce, sheltering love.
Yet you would not come.

Would you?

 

Would you?
Would you let yourself be gathered?
Would you nestle beneath the shadow of holy wings?
Would you let go of all the ways you’ve tried to save yourself—
your striving, your sorrow, your self-sufficiency—
and simply be held?

 

There is a road that leads to Jerusalem,
a road that winds through wilderness and weeping,
through betrayal and brokenness,
to a cross upon which Love will hang.

But this is not a road of defeat.
This is the road of love unfurling,
of a mother’s wings opening wider,
of a Love so vast, so wild, so tender,
that not even death can suppress it.

 

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear?
Not the foxes of this world, scheming in the shadows.
Not the doubts that creep in when the night stretches long.
Not the wounds of rejection,
nor the ache of longing unanswered.

For we are citizens of another kingdom,
children of a greater promise,
nestled beneath wings that will not fail us.

 

So come, beloved.
Come beneath the wings of Christ.
Come with your weary bones,
your unanswered prayers,
your faltering faith.

 

Come and be gathered.
Come and be held.
Come and trust the Love that will not let you go.

 

And when the morning comes,
when the third day dawns,
when the tomb stands alone—
then you will know,
here you’ve always been home. 

Amen.

 

Your Ministry

The Most Rev. Michael Curry has been everywhere from the View to the Today Show since the Royal Wedding.

If you got trapped under a rock this past week you may not know that our Presiding Bishop, the Most Rev. Michael Curry, preached at Saturday’s Royal Wedding between Megan Merkel and Prince Harry. And, by most accounts he knocked it out of the park. He delivered a lively homily for the ages. He wowed the 2 billion people watching. And, he even got some startling reactions from the Royal Family. It was masterful. It was fun. It was a moment that we can be proud of as Episcopalians. But, it will all be a waste if we simply sit around and pat ourselves on the back.

Some have criticized Presiding Bishop Curry for using the afterglow of that moment. He got on Twitter to tell folks that if they liked what they saw, then it might be meet and right to head over to their local Episcopal Church the next day. “Oh, that’s shameful marketing!” some suggested. In response Curry has continued to point not to his own ministry, but to that of the Church and more importantly to the ministry we share in Christ Jesus. Did you know that?

Did you know that you share in the ministry not just of this Church, but of Christ Jesus himself? Did you know that you—yes I am talking about you—are part of this same movement of love? “Oh,” you say, “I don’t know about all that.” Then, the reasons why you do not qualify begin to roll off your tongue:

-“I don’t follow all the right rules.”
-“I need to do more service towards others.”
-“I haven’t achieved enough status to qualify yet.”
-“I am not special enough to be part of that ministry.”
-“I do not know enough yet.”
-“I am not part of this prestigious group.”
-“I am not happy enough.”
-“I do not the leader of the group.”
-“I am not at peace enough to belong.”

You and I both have our reasons for thinking that we just do not make the cut. And, all of those reasons are bogus. They are bologna!

God has chosen you to be part of this movement. That is why you are alive at this precise moment. That is why you exist right now. That is why God continues to call you into being alive every second of everyday of your life thus far. It’s pretty magnificient and at the same time our part in this grand ministry is pretty miniscule. But, that’s okay because it’s not really about how grand I am or you are. No, it’s about how collectively we are called by God to take part in the ministry of Jesus. Today of all days, is a day to remember and celebrate this truth.

Four times throughout the year the Church sets apart special days dedicated to ministry. They are called Ember Days. They happen on the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday before the Fourth Sunday of Advent, the Second Sunday of Lent, Trinity Sunday, and during the third week of September. However, most just remember Lenty-Penty-Lucy-Crucy… For Lent, Pentecost, St. Lucy’s Day (in December), and Holy Cross Day in September. More than the timing what matters is the purpose behind these days.

These days are times when those preparing for ordination have special observances, practice fasting, and write a letter to their bishop. “Alright,” you may be thinking, “what does this have to do with me?” Well, while this is an occasion set apart for those preparing to take on formal ordination vows in the Church, the readings, the themes, and the spirit of this day connects to God’s call for each of us—whether we are ordained in Holy Baptism or at another ordination service. Again, you have a ministry that is part of Christ’s ministry. But, what does that mean and what does that look like?

First, let’s cover what it looks like to be in this Jesus Movement. Returning to our Presiding Bishop’s message, it is fantastic that he spoke so powerfully of God’s love that changes the world, but now how do we live into that? It is quite easy to just go about our lives with our heads down plowing along. Letting the cuts and bruises of life affect us. As we do, we may end up hard-headed and hard-hearted. Our reading from Ezekiel though, tells us the truth of what God wants for us. God wants to remove our stubbornness, so that we might have soft, fleshy hearts and creative minds that see the world with new eyes on a daily basis.

Our Gospel lesson for today illuminates this more fully. The Sons of Thunder aka James and John wanted to be the best of the lot, the rulers of the disciples. Jesus though challenged all his followers to flip the world on its head. We—when we let God’s love take hold of us—do not seek lofty positions of power, but lowly places of servitude. That is what it looks like to be part of this movement, to seek and serve others every chance we get. But what does it mean to be part of the ministry of Jesus?

When we are part of the Jesus Movement we recognize the vision of Romans 6 as the truth of our existence. We know that death no longer has power over us, neither does sin, nor corruption, nor any other forces of evil. We have been buried with Christ. And, in this death Christ destroyed death and all its minions. If we no longer fear death, then the question begs to be asked, “What is it that we are afraid of?”

If we are no longer fearful of forces of evil, if we are instead clothed in Christ’s death and resurrection, what can’t we do? This is what it means to be part of the Jesus Movement. We are eternally alive in Christ. We are living in God’s death-conquering love.

Now, this does not mean we won’t physically grow old and die. It does not mean that evil does not exist in this world. Nor, does it mean that we won’t make mistakes. Rather, as we choose to live life in Christ what we become is part of the life-altering, death-destroying, universe-changing movement of love that will transform everything. You are part of this ministry. Do not doubt that for a moment.

So, let us not rest on the laurels of our leader’s wedding sermon heard round the world. Instead, may we have soft hearts to receive God’s love, may we live out of that love as we become servants of all, and may we know that we are all ministers in Jesus’ Movement of universe-changing love! And for that calling, thanks be to God. Amen.

Possessions

This sermon was inspired by the following readings:

Rom. 13:8–10

Ps. 112

Luke 14:25–33

On Sunday morning I taught a class on some crazy saints known as the Dessert Fathers and Mothers. They were people who—when Christianity became mainstream in the 4th and 5th centuries—decided that they wanted to live outside of the comfortable spot that society was now offering Christians. Previously being a Christian required someone to risk life and limb, as the members of the Early Church cared for the plague-ridden masses, adopted abandoned babies, and were often martyred for their beliefs. Desert Fathers and Mothers thought it only right to keep up the intensity of their Christian forebears.

During this Sunday school class I focused in on several saints including Antony of Egypt. After hearing Jesus’ words on not being anxious about tomorrow, Antony sold his family’s sizeable estate, put his sister in a home for young maidens, and went outside the walls of society to live and pray. He spent twenty years alone. After hearing all of this I asked the class what they thought of Antony. Almost uniformly everyone thought he was crazy.

Their comments varied, but all seemed to have a theme of thinking him out of his right mind. They said things like, “He lived alone for twenty years.” “Why did he leave his sister all alone?” and “He gave up all that he had!” As we continued our conversation in class I found myself thinking that Antony had taken seriously the command that we heard in today’s Gospel account, “None of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.”

Often we hear words like this coming out of Jesus’ mouth. A rich young man comes up to him seeking eternal life and even though the man has lived a good life Jesus tells him he lacks one thing. That one thing? Selling all that he has and following Jesus. Jesus challenges those who listen to him to understand that it is very hard for a rich person to make it into heaven. It would be easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for the rich person to make it Jesus assures us. We also hear Jesus saying that we cannot serve two masters and where our treasure is there our heart will be also. But every time I hear this crazy message I have almost the exact opposite response as Antony. Instead of letting go of all that I have I find myself fumbling for excuses.

“Well,” I say to myself, “Jesus only means these things figuratively. He doesn’t really want us to give everything away.” The truth is that while the Church often talks about sacrificial, proportional, first-fruits giving God is not interested in that. Or, perhaps better said, God is not only interested in that. Jesus makes it clear that it is not about 10% of our lives, 15% of our lives, or even half our lives—it is about all of our lives. God wants everything. Our whole hearts, our minds, our possessions, our skills, our gifts, our passions, our energy, and everything else. Heck! God will even take our sins, faults, and fears. On the one hand this seems impossibly hard, and yet on the other hand this is completely freeing.

Surprisingly, the first reading from Romans helps me to comprehend of this a little bit more easily. In Paul’s Letter to the Romans we hear several commandments summed up in the way that Jesus synthesized them, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Contained within that statement is the entirety of the laws of God’s people. Now, if you told me that I was going to have to memorize all of those laws, several hundred statues, and follow them like my life depended upon it. Well, I would have a very hard time. But, if you told me what I need to focus on is loving my neighbor as myself I think could do it. It feels much easier. In the same way I think we have this possession thing backwards.

We live in a world that puts our values into a monetary system. The work we do gets symbolized in money. The dollars spent on school, groceries, or utilities are in competition with the ones we want to spend on trips, entertainment, or nice dinner. And we grow up hearing from this world that working hard is enough to earn a living and that is what good, decent people do. And yet, all of this is built upon a false set of beliefs. In truth, we do not own anything and even what we earn is not ours. We come in with only the gift of life and we leave that behind when we die. So what is real? What is true? The truth is that everything—every dollar we earn, every gift we have, every problem we face—everything is a gift from God.

For us to give all of it away is what we will do one day whether we want to do it or not. Jesus in the meantime challenges us to practice giving it all away right now. For us to follow Jesus we must let go. To possess the gift that is life in Christ we must relinquish everything else. In this season of stewardship we are called to practice this giving away as we give to God’s work in the world, but make no mistake… God is not interested in 10% of you, but your entire self!

The Menu in the Kingdom of God

Leonardo DaVinci's "Last Supper"

What do you think the menu will be like in the Kingdom of God? Filet mignon, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, and a side salad full of fresh heirloom tomatoes? Homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream for dessert? Perhaps in the Kingdom the meals are catered by Albany Bistro or Ruth Chris’ Steak House or preferably my favorite taco place in Austin, TX, Torchy’s Tacos!

We love talking about food in our culture. I, in particular, love talking about and learning about food. Where does it come from? How does it grow? Is it local? What nutrients are in it? How do I complement the flavor of squash? And so on and so on… My colleagues and friends know this about me and often will tease me when I start a new diet or swear off some product or another.

Our culture urges us to go too far with obsessing over how and what we eat. In the face of our obesity epidemic we swing on the pendulum in the other way. Think about all the different types of diets that have come into fashion recently: low-carb, low-fat, gluten-free, dairy-free, sugar-free, Atkins’, Paleo, weight-watchers, juice, local, organic, just to name a few. So hearing Paul’s words to the Romans today can poke a hole in the dieting balloon that I so often blow up in my own life.

Paul tells us, “Do not, for the sake of food, destroy the work of God.” Now we can take these words and run right into our complex societal issues around dieting shouting “See, I told you we don’t need to diet.” We can believe that Paul is telling us that we ought not to put food in the way of God’s work, and we would be right in doing this. And yet, there is more to what Paul is telling us about the good news of Christ Jesus and the building up of His Kingdom.

In Paul’s day issues around food were not about how food made one look, but it was instead about what food was clean and what food was unclean. Food that was unclean probably had historically caused some sort of problem within the Jewish community. Certain foods, most notably pig, might have been seen as a dirty food that would cause someone to get sick and potentially die. So that food was not seen as Kosher. Today Jewish perspectives on food are a bit different. Heck, there is even a Jewish-Scottish fusion restaurant in Los Angeles that offers bacon wrapped matzo balls.

In Paul’s day however, there was more than just unclean food. There was the communal perspective that certain food was not only dirty, but would also cause others to stumble. The Romans who heard Paul’s words were struggling in a multi-cultural city. They were Jewish-Christians who were living amongst pagans. Many of whom would have practiced strange rituals dedicated to local gods eating particular foods that were associated with those acts.

Paul knew this, and was warning those in this community to be careful about what you eat. Sure all things that God makes are clean, but you don’t have to rub it in around your neighbor who is struggling to avoid certain “gateway foods.” We might laugh at this, but think about a contemporary example. If you have a friend who struggles with alcoholism or to whom alcohol is gateway drug, then you probably, if you are building up the Kingdom of God, are not going to serve alcohol around your friend.

We can struggle with what we eat and drink, we can wonder if this certain food will make us look or feel better, and our society will always push onto us new fads, new superfoods, and new diets, but Paul urges us to think about how the meals we eat build up our communities. How our table time might enhance, continue, or destroy the good work that God is doing with and among us. It is not about what food is clean, it is not about what food is gluten-free or Paleo, it is about building the Kingdom of God.

“For the kingdom of God is not food and drink but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.” What is on the menu in the Kingdom of God? Righteousness, peace, joy, and the love that we share when feasting with one another. Amen.

Learning Where Judge and Love Meet

The Truth can find us in all sorts of strange ways. Take for example this morning when I was getting ready for the day and listening to some sports talk radio (one of my favorite pass times). On this morning’s “Mike and Mike” show the hosts were discussing the use of smokeless tobacco products in light of Tony Gwynn’s early death partially due to his use of dip and chew. While I did not hear the entire conversation both the Mikes attested to the courtesy of their callers who discussed and debated whether Major League Baseball should ban the use of smokeless products to lessen their prominence and prevent young viewers from thinking it is “cool.”

All of the civility went out the window as Mike Greenberg read an email from an irate listener. This man had been a fan of the show for many years, but was going to stop listening after today’s broadcast because this show is now just like the rest of the media. The disappointed listener went on to write that no one can tell him how to live his life, especially not the media. What I heard the listener saying is quite common in our society, “No one can judge me.”

Today’s reading from Paul’s Letter to the Romans makes this claim as well, “Therefore you have no excuse, whoever you are, whenyou judge others; for in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself,because you, the judge, are doing the very same things” (2:1). We rejoice in this passage because we can point to it and say, “YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! ONLY GOD CAN!”

We do not like the feeling of being judged. Certainly Jesus makes a claim for doing the work of figuring out where we are in the wrong first when he talks about getting the log out of our eye before weinspect the speck of sawdust in another’s. Yet, the Truth I recognized this morning is that so often when I feel I am being judged I want to pack up my toys and go play by myself. It is not that we judge it is how we do it.

If I did use smokeless tobacco products I would certainly know that they are bad for me, this fact is written on the packaging. And, if you saw me using tobacco products you would certainly know that I was putting myself in danger by using them. Yet, I do not want to know that you know that I am putting myself in danger, and I do not want to hear that you know that I am putting myself into danger because then I would have to acknowledge the way I am living my life. Let me go on living in denial, please! Most often when someone points out a flaw in us, even if they do so politely, it feels as though they are being too direct, too confrontational, and too mean. Looking at the opposite end of the spectrum though, what if no one ever judged that we had done anything wrongly?

We could live however we want to live. We could do whatever we want to do. We could congratulate ourselves for the simplest accomplishment. We could scream as loud as we want to in our very own echo chamber without anyone saying a peep. The difficulty in living in this way though is that there is no growth, no transcendence, and no way of getting closer to God. The solution is not isolation, nor is it a total lack of judgment, but rather a redefining of how we share difficult, confrontational, and crucial information with one another.

When God created all things God made a judgment about Creation. God said, this is good, and this is very good. When God’s people chose their own way and not God’s will God did not judge that they ought to be destroyed. Rather time and time again God sent leaders (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and Aaron) to bring the people back to God in all sorts of strange and creative ways (i.e. see the Pentateuch). God sent the prophets when God judged that the Israelites were not living up to their “Chosen People” status. Then God sent Christ Jesus, his Son, to judge the people in a way that shows what kind of judgment awaits us.

We judged that Jesus should die, so we put him to death. Yet even in this moment God did not choose to destroy us, but God judged that forgiveness transcends revenge, that life overcomes death, that love unites us not separates us. Judgment and love cannot be separated in God’s decisions. Yet, this is what we choose to do when we simply point out flaws in other people, when we choose to be cynical about the state of the world, and when we point our fingers blaming one another for our collective challenges. This is like a doctor giving a diagnosis without a treatment plan. This is like giving someone a fishing pole without teaching them how to fish. If we spend our time only pointing to the problems in our lives, without working through a solution with others, then we are cutting ourselves off from the healing, transcending, and redeeming love of Christ.

None of us like to be judged because that Truth is so hard to hear and when we hear it we might feel shame or guilt for being that way. Yet, we must hear and accept the Truth about ourselves to grow closer to one another and closer to God. We must look to the way that God judges us. Do not judge by pointing a finger, but by extending a hand in love, for that is how God judges us with an overabundant love that overcomes even death. 

Romans 12:1-8: Who are you? What are your gifts? What is your place in the world?

“What do you think are your spiritual gifts?” was one question posed to the youth confirmation class this past Sunday afternoon. After a moment of pondering the question one high school student said, “I like to serve others and… music, I like to make music.” Another teenager piped up, “I think I am pretty patient.” Then one more said, “I love to work with kids.” “I am funny and I like to laugh with others,” another added. In the midst of what is a difficult time in anyone’s life, high school, the six youth involved in confirmation class showed immense maturity to take a critical look inside to wonder some big questions: “Who am I? What are my gifts? What is my place in the world going to be?”

Who are you? What are your gifts? What is your place in the world? These three questions have bugged me since I first heard them almost ten years ago. Eric Hartman, the dean of students at Sewanee was keen on asking these three introspective puzzlers to anyone who sought his counsel and even some who did not. So this past Sunday after we talked about spiritual gifts Kristin Hanson invited me to talk about my experience of discerning one’s gifts and a call to ordained ministry.

As I talked about spiritual gifts and ministry, I stumbled upon a Truth that I keep bumping into in my own life. No matter how hard I try to figure out my call right now, no matter how much work I put into discernment at this moment, no matter how exhaustive I am with discerning a vocation, I will still have to keep listening to figure out who I am, what my gifts are, and what my place is in this world.

In today’s epistle to the Church in Rome, Paul help us, or at least me, to know how it is that spiritual gifts are most effectively used. At this point in the early Church, the gentiles within the Church of Rome were boasting of their practices to the Jewish faction within the church. The gentiles did not follow the same rigorous code that the Jewish followers of Christ did, but instead of harmoniously coexisting, the gentiles rubbed it in faces of their Jewish brothers and sisters. As this is one of Paul’s last letters, it possesses some more advanced statements of his Faith in God, and he eloquently urges both sides to come together. By this point, twelve chapters into the letter, Paul is issuing an invitation not to one specific group but to all members of Christ’s Body. That exhortation extends to us. This is how we can best identify, understand, and use our spiritual gifts… together!

Paul presses hearers of this letter to come together, not focusing on what is happening in the world, but by discerning together the will of God. When we start to see what God is working right here in this world listening as a community, we no longer focus primarily on our individual needs or petty differences that keep us apart. We start to act as a body. It is as this body that we can start to answer, “Who am I? What are my gifts? What is my place in this world?”

Sometimes I think of the simplicity of picking up a coffee mug and then putting it back on a table. My biceps and triceps must work together along with all the smaller muscles in my forearm and all the tendons and ligaments in my hand and fingers. While this task might not drain my brain, I typically have to think about it and send some neural signals down my spine to my arm and fingers. It seems that only when the members do not work together do I ever even think about this task.

Each part of the body has a task to do. Each member has gifts that help to accomplish that task. We can withhold our gifts from one another, we can without our talents from one another, we can without ourselves from this corporate body, but with Paul, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to present yourselves (your bodies) as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”

We will constantly ask, “Who am I? What are my gifts and talents? What is my place in the world?” While we will never have a permanent answer, by presenting ourselves to God as a living sacrifice, God uses our gifts together to bring healing, unity with God, and love to Creation. We each are given gifts through God’s abundant grace. We must be bold and share these gifts with one another, so that we can make this body stronger and allow Christ to work through us.

Who are you? What are your gifts? What is your place in the world?