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Sermon – Jonah 3.1-10, Ecumenical Lenten Worship Series, February 25, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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This sermon was delivered at Mt. Vernon United Methodist Church, as part of an ecumenical pulpit exchange that happens with six other churches during in Lent in our county.

On this Wednesday in the first week of Lent, we get a portion of the Jonah story.  Before we jump into the specific set of verses appointed for today, we need to back up and recount the whole of the Jonah narrative so we can hear more clearly what God is trying to say to us tonight.  If you recall, Jonah’s story starts with a call.  God tells Jonah to go to Ninevah to proclaim judgment on their wicked behavior.  Now, “Nineveh was the capital of Assyria, the nation that destroyed the northern kingdom of Israel and held the southern kingdom of Judah as a vassal for almost one hundred years.  Assyria was more than an enemy; [Assyria] was a brutal occupying force that forever changed Israel’s fortunes.  Jonah is called out by God to go and prophesy to the enemy.”[i]

Understandably, instead of heading straight to Ninevah, Jonah goes in the exact opposite direction – hopping on a boat to sail away from the very scary and dangerous job God has given Jonah.  The next part you probably remember from Sunday School:  a storm comes up, the crew on the boat try to survive, Jonah is thrown overboard as a sacrifice and then swallowed by a very large fish, only to be spit out, and then told by God to get up and go do what God told Jonah to do the first time.  That’s where we pick up in tonight’s reading.

This time Jonah obeys – sort of.  He half-heartedly announces judgment on Nineveh.  The words we hear are “Forty days more, and Nineveh will be overthrown!”  In Hebrew, Jonah’s words are just a five-word sermon.[ii]  Despite his half-hearted five-word sermon, Nineveh springs into almost comedic action.  The people proclaim a fast and put on sackcloth.  The king ups the ante and sits in ashes and tells the people to stop all violence and even put sackcloth on their animals, hoping maybe, just maybe, God will relent and not punish them.  A great, all-powerful, brutal people humbly repent.  We are told God changes God’s mind based on their repentance and does not punish them. 

Now, this is where Jonah’s story gets interesting.  We didn’t hear this part tonight, but Jonah does not experience relief, or justification, or even pride, at making something great happen.  No, Jonah is angry.  Old Testament professor Beth Tanner tells us, “The NRSV plays down [Jonah’s] anger with the words ‘this was very displeasing to Jonah and he became angry’ (4:1).  The Hebrew reads roughly, ‘it was evil to Jonah, a great evil, and his anger burned.’  The ‘it’ of Jonah’s anger is the heart of the matter.  He tells God why he ran, ‘for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and ready to relent from punishing’ (4:2).  Jonah is angry at God for the very attributes that Israel has always depended on for [Israel’s] own salvation (Exodus 34:6-7)!  God speaks to Jonah, trying to explain, but the book ends without resolution and Jonah goes away mad.”[iii]

The funny thing about Jonah’s story is that Jonah’s story, if we’re paying attention, hits us right in our gut.  You see, we believe that God is gracious, merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.  In fact, we bet our lives on God’s nature.  We spend forty days repenting of our sinfulness, attempting to amend our ways, seeking and expecting God’s profound forgiveness.  We only engage in this season of self-reflection and self-denial because we know God’s grace and mercy is for us, waiting outside an empty tomb.  But here’s where Jonah’s gut-punch comes from:  we are not always ready for God’s grace to be as available to everyone else as God’s grace is available to us. 

Now before you protest against this guest preacher, saying, “Hey now!  I’m not like Jonah!” I want you to take a moment.  I want you to resist your defenses going up and think of the person in your life who is hard to love.  That person may be a neighbor, or that black sheep in your family, or that friend or lover you cut off years ago.  That person might in a political office despite your vote to the contrary.  That person or group of people, like Nineveh, might be known for oppression and degradation that you cannot abide.  Scholar Tanner says, “My father always told me that if I did not believe that God would save the most foul of humans, then I did not really believe in God’s power to save my own soul.”[iv]  If I do not believe that God would save the most foul of humans, then I do not really believe in God’s power to save my own soul.

That, my friends, is why Jonah goes out into the wilderness in a huff and is angry at God for being God.  Because the bounds of God’s grace, mercy, and steadfast love are endless.  And even if we do not feel like our neighbor deserves that grace, mercy, and steadfast love, God knows a repentant heart much more deeply than we, and our God can change God’s mind. 

In this season of Lent, you are likely going to confess some grievous sins.  In this season of Lent, you are likely going to try to be more faithful – to walk more fully in the light of Christ.  In this season of Lent, you are likely going to come to the cross broken, having just been spit out of the belly of a very large fish, feeling defeated.  And God is going to love you.  God’s grace and mercy are going to envelope you.  God’s anger will be slow enough to not boil over that you will not be burned. 

And.  And, because that is the nature of our God, our invitation tonight is to make room for more people to be welcomed into that bosom of God’s embrace.  That does not mean you cannot speak truth to power.  Jonah certainly did.  But the judgment piece is not ours.  In fact, our speaking truth to power is rooted in the knowledge that there is room for all.  God’s mercy, grace, and steadfast love is for you.  And although you or I may not like sharing that mercy, grace, and steadfast love with certain individuals, the fact that God does makes God’s mercy, grace, and steadfast love even greater, even sweeter, even more humbling.  There is room in God’s embrace – even for someone like us!  Amen.

[i] Beth L. Tanner, “Commentary on Jonah 3:1-5, 10,” January 25, 2009, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-after-epiphany-2/commentary-on-jonah-31-5-10-2 on February 24, 2026.

[ii] Kathryn M. Schifferdecker, “Commentary on Jonah 3:1-5, 10,” January 25, 2015, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-after-epiphany-2/commentary-on-jonah-31-5-10-3, on February 24, 2026.

[iii] Tanner.

[iv] Tanner.

Sermon – Matthew 6.1-6, 16-21, AW, YA, February 18, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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I have always regarded Ash Wednesday and our Lenten experience as the ultimate self-directed season.  The ashes on our foreheads remind us of how we came into this world alone and we will go out alone.  The disciplines we assume this day for the next six weeks are catered to our own journeys, focusing on what we have discerned we personally need to right our own relationship with God.  When I confess, I am struck by memories of grievances I have committed – images and feelings flashing before me as a particular set of words hits close to home.

But as I read Matthew’s convicting gospel this year, I remembered the wise words of New Testament scholar Karoline Lewis.  All those warnings Jesus makes, “Beware of practicing your piety before others…whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet…when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites…whenever you fast, do not look dismal…”, all of those warnings are not in the singular.  In the original Greek, they are actually in the plural.[i]  So the words are more like, beware of practicing you all’s piety.  Or maybe in Southern speak, “when ya’ll pray…” Jesus is not criticizing or singling out you or you or me.  Jesus is singling out the community of the faithful.

That may sound like semantics, but there is something quite dramatic about Jesus speaking in the plural versus the singular.  Every week in Sunday services, we confess our sins.  But we confess them communally.  Communal confession is an extraordinary event.  While we may feel lost or despondent about our inability to live in the light of Christ as individuals, when we communally confess, a room of voices is saying with you, “Me too!”

One of the things I grieved the most during the pandemic was our inability to gather in person.  I loved that we had and continue to have an online community – especially when people write things in the comments, greet one another, or meet Hickory Neck for the first time.  But our necessary isolation during the pandemic naturally led to a pattern of looking inward – sometimes so much so that we forgot we are not alone – that there is a whole community of faith who is walking this journey with us and struggling just as we are.  There is something quite powerful about listening to the voices of a 7-year-old next to the 77-year-old – the person who looks so put together next to the person who is clearly struggling – the dad with children next to the widow – all confessing together.  Week in and week out, those myriad voices remind us we are not alone.

Of course, part of that reason we get so focused on the self in Lent is because self-interest and self-focus is culturally entrenched in being a modern American.  There is both a blessing and a curse to the American dream – that any individual can achieve their dreams, if they just pull themselves up by their bootstraps – an argument that assumes everyone has bootstraps.  But indigenous New Testament scholar Danny Zacharias argues that we have a lot to learn from indigenous communities in Lent.  Zacharias says, “Traditional Indigenous cultures practice communal living and redistribution of resources, often rejecting the accumulation of wealth as a sign of individual success.  Indigenous communities also have high social expectations upon wealthier individuals to be the providers, especially for communal events.  Generosity and balance are seen as fundamental to a good life.  Indigenous leaders have historically been known for their generosity, with material lack by a leader being a strong sign of virtue and abundant generosity.[ii]  Jesus’ teaching affirms this principle, calling his disciples to a life where wealth is measured not in possessions but in righteousness and relationship with God.”[iii]

So if Jesus is talking to all y’all this Lent, and if we can learn something from indigenous communities this Lent, what does communal Lent look like?   One model might come from Pope Leo this year.  The pope said, “I would like to invite you to a very practical and frequently unappreciated form of abstinence:  that of refraining from words that offend and hurt our neighbor.  Let us begin by disarming our language, avoiding harsh words and rash judgement, refraining from slander and speaking ill of those who are not present and cannot defend themselves.  Instead, let us strive to measure our words and cultivate kindness and respect in our families, among our friends, at work, on social media, in political debates, in the media and in Christian communities.  In this way, words of hatred will give way to words of hope and peace.”[iv]

Our invitation today as we enter Lent is to remember that the act of reconciliation and redemption does not happen alone.  We all are invited into a holy Lent.  We all are invited into prayer, fasting, and alms giving – even if that fasting looks like fasting from hurtful words.  We all are invited to remember we are dust.  In person, online, and hybrid together, we are not invited into solo, parallel journeys.  Our journeys are strengthened and made possible through the companionship of community.  You are not alone.  We are in this together.  And Jesus lights the way for us all.  Amen.

[i] Karoline Lewis, as described on the podcast, “Sermon Brainwave:  #889: Ash Wednesday – February 22, 2023,” February 17, 2023, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/889-ash-wednesday-february-22-2023 on February 17, 2026.

[ii] Randy S. Woodley, Shalom and the Community of Creation: An Indigenous Vision, Prophetic Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 155.

[iii] Danny Zacharias, “Commentary on Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21,” February 18, 2026, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ash-wednesday/commentary-on-matthew-61-6-16-21-18 on February 17, 2026.

[iv] Pope Leo XIV, as quoted at https://www.facebook.com/FrJamesMartin/posts/pfbid02uQANdoLUZ94niQnhZDvRN1vSQmSG6BckAQ3HwGm2PpLpGUmZtBCqqpKbijunr9Bwl on February 13, 2026.

Sermon/Annual Address – Matthew 17.1-9, LEP, YA, February 15, 2026

15 Wednesday Apr 2026

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Every January, once the year-end numbers are in, the pledges are finalized, new Vestry members lined up, and priorities established, Hickory Neck holds our Annual Meeting.  We celebrate a year of ministry, honor outstanding service, elect and commission new leaders, and get a glimpse of the year to come.  Of course, Mother Nature had something to say about that this year, and so, we rescheduled, and rescheduled, and are now, finally able to take a moment to pause to celebrate where we have been, who we are, and where we are going. 

On this celebration day for Hickory Neck, the assigned scripture for the day mirrors our celebrations.  Now, I am not promising our Annual Meeting or this Rector’s address will be anything akin to the transfiguration of our Lord:  though we are on the highest point in Toano, our location could hardly be described as a mountaintop, and although we are gathered with Jesus this morning, I cannot promise you will see Jesus in dazzling white – let alone Moses or Elijah.  Nevertheless, the similarities have been grounding for me this week as I too have been looking back, looking at our now, and looking ahead.

The three disciples Jesus takes up with him to the mountain do not experience a healing or a miracle like multiplying fishes and loaves.  Instead, the literal mountaintop experience they have is one of reflection, instruction, and action.  As Moses and Elijah appear and Jesus is transformed, the disciples experience clarity and wisdom about who Jesus is and how Jesus fits into their historical identity as the people of God.  As God speaks, saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” God tells the disciples what they are to do:  to be guided and directed by Jesus.  And then, much to Peter’s chagrin, who would like to stay on that mountain and revel in the majesty of the moment, the disciples do what every community does when they’ve been up to the mountaintop:  they come down.  They come down the mountain and if we kept reading chapter 17 of Matthew, we would learn that they get right back to work, healing the sick and casting out demons.

Your Vestry has been through a similar mountaintop experience.  They looked back at an incredible year of ministry:  they saw new ministries begin, like our programming for Middle School aged children – a first for Hickory Neck in over a decade.  They saw the average of individual pledges of giving and our average Sunday attendance increase.  They saw us welcome 15 new households in the last year to Hickory Neck, those experiencing homelessness housed in our buildings and done in partnership with other faith communities, and children taking a lead in worship.  They saw beds built, monies raised and distributed, animals blessed out in the community, and a lending library for adults and children.  They saw new leaders step up, reinvigorating our ministry to families with young children, donations made to seed a new worship service, and a new organ installation complete to help us expand our ministry of music with a new Minister of Music.  They saw a nonprofit organization, the Virginia Episcopal Real Estate Partners offer us a grant to seed new dreams with our Dream Team.  And maybe most importantly, they saw countless testimonies from you – our parishioners – who shared story after story about how even in the changes and chances of life at Hickory Neck, we continue to be a place where people feel a sense of belonging, of purpose, and of being loved. 

One of the things we talk about a lot in Vestry and among the staff is about Hickory Neck’s size – not so much about our literal numbers, but what being a church our size means.  You see, Hickory Neck is what researchers and experts in the field call a “transition-sized parish.”  Of the five size designations, our designation as transition-sized means that we are the only type in those five sizes of churches who lives in a constant state of tension.  The tension is pretty straightforward and one I imagine each of you can recognize:  the tension is in whether to be a parish who shrinks down in size, returning to a size where everyone knows each other and growth is limited or whether to be a parish who is growth-minded, continuing to push into a parish that can offer programming that both serves the needs of our current members and attracts new members.  Almost every time Hickory Neck experiences tension or conflict, the Vestry and staff recall the underlying tension that impacts our life here – that never goes away, but constantly forces us to make choices about how we want to be in the world. 

And so, this year more than any other in my time here, I watched your Vestry do exactly what God asked the disciples to do:  to listen to Jesus.  And so, rooted in prayer and relationship with Christ, sobered by the reality that we, along with most churches these days, must commit to new models of ministry – new ways of structuring revenue that can enable us to keep offering ministry in this sacred place we have come to love.  And so, rooted in that mountaintop experience, your Vestry and I invite you to come down the mountain with us – to get back to the work we have been given to do with Jesus.  We’ll do that in two short weeks when we host our neighbors experiencing homelessness again.  We’ll do that when our new Minister of Music gets settled and starts making a reality our dream of a vibrant ministry of music program that reaches the wider community.  We’ll do that when our leadership teams put in place the elements that can buttress church growth.  We’ll do that when we care for our members, care for our neighbors, and care for the world around us. 

Coming down the mountain is scary.  Jesus would not have come to Peter, James, and John, placed his hand on their shoulders and said, “Do not be afraid” if coming down the mountain wasn’t scary.  Coming down the mountain does not offer the same coziness as those three dwellings or tents Peter wanted to construct.  But coming down the mountain is the only way to get to the good stuff – to the stuff that feeds us, that feeds others, and that glorifies God.  Coming down the mountain is work, to be sure, but coming down the mountain is work that nourishes our souls and the lives of others, gives us purpose and meaning, and happens with a beautiful sense of belonging.  I am honored to join hands with you and come down the mountain together this year to watch and participate in what Jesus has in store for us.  Amen. 

Sermon – Micah 6.1-8, Matthew 5.1-12, EP4, YA, January 30, 2026

04 Wednesday Feb 2026

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These last 8-9 days have been chaotic.  It seems silly and rather like a first-world problem that ice and snow have messed up so many of our plans here at church, in our schools, at our homes, and around the community.  And yet, cancelling, postponing, rescheduling, calendaring, changing deadlines, modifying modes of operation, problem-solving to ensure folks are fed, sheltered, warm and learning, shortened tempers, and cabin fever have ruled these days.  Perhaps our wells of generosity about the chaos would be deeper if a parallel chaos were not happening throughout our country as political and communal life seems to unravel to new depths.

And so, like I always do, I turn to the scripture for the week, praying the lectionary has something to offer us.  Initially, I was delighted because I love the beatitude from Matthew.  Every time I read them, I instinctively hear the a cappella group Sweet Honey in the Rock singing their version of the Beatitudes[i].  We’ll put a link to the song on our social media.  But even their beautiful voices singing those beautiful words this week could not offer the salve I needed.  You see, in each of the sufferings articulated in the beatitudes (those who mourn, the peacemakers, those hungering for righteousness, those persecuted, and those reviled), Jesus promises future blessings (They will be comforted, they will be filled, they will be called children of God, their reward will be in heaven.). 

But a future promise feels too reminiscent of generations of people who suffered and were offered the same promises.  Be an obedient enslaved person, and you will be rewarded in heaven.  Take the sexism, harassment, and lack of rights, and you will be filled.  Wait for the ability to marry, and you will be called children of God.  Stay in your own country, impoverished, persecuted, and oppressed, and you will find comfort.  When the women of Sweet Honey in the Rock sing, you hear the ache of those generations of people.  And though they articulate the pain vocally, the words in these days do not satisfy the suffering today.

So, what do we do?  Does Holy Scripture offer us no comfort today?  You and I both know that is not God’s style.  Micah screams out to the void today, and cracks open Jesus’ words.   In our text today, the people of Israel and God are in a profound argument.  The people of God complain to God of injustice, and God comes back with a mirror.  “‘What?’ God says.  ‘I have come to you time and again.  I brought you out of Egypt, I gave you leaders, I saved you over and over again.  And you act in this way?’”  The people, humbled, scurry about, wondering what to do:  should they bow down?  Make offerings?  Sacrifice more precious things?  And God reminds them who they are and how they are to be at all times.  Micah reminds them, “He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”[ii]  Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly. 

Jesus is not saying in those soulful words that we as his followers are to sit on our hands and wait for some future blessing.  Jesus is telling us that future blessing comes by being who we are called to be and how we are called to act now.  When we do justice, love kindness, walk humbly; when we are meek, when we thirst for righteousness, when we are peacemakers, when we are merciful; or even closer to home, when we seek and serve Christ in all persons, when we strive for justice and peace among all people, and when we respect the dignity of every, every, human being – then we are being our truest self – we are acting like children of God. 

Maybe that still does not feel like a balm for you today.  Maybe the chaos of this life has gotten you so despondent that remembering who you are and how God calls you to be doesn’t soothe the hurt of these days.  What scripture does for me today though is remove the paralysis of overwhelmedness.  That may mean that you go join a protest, or go watch Buddhist monks walk for peace.  That may may mean you write your Congressmember, or join in prayer.  That may mean you grieve, or you go shovel a neighbor’s driveway.  In all those words of Micah and all those words of Jesus, neither says go bury your head in the sand.  Both of them say to us today, “You know whose you are and how followers of Christ are to act.  So, go.  Do justice.  Love kindness.  Walk humbly.  Go be a child of God.”  Amen.

[i] Sweet Honey in the Rock, “Beatitudes,” Live At Carnegie Hall, New York, NY, November 7, 1987, found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXofcD7-VN0 on January 30, 2026.

[ii]Micah 6.8.

Feast of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., January 18, 2026

28 Wednesday Jan 2026

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Artwork by Nip Rogers, created for Learning for Justice.

The following sermon was delivered in multiple voices at Hickory Neck Episcopal Church in honor of the feast of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. The text is exclusively Dr. King’s, and consists of excerpts from Loving your Enemies, from a sermon delivered at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, Montgomery, Alabama, on November, 17 1957, and from Chapter Five of Strength to Love, © 1963 by Martin Luther King, Jr.

“Probably no admonition of Jesus has been more difficult to follow than the command to “love our enemies…”

“…I am certain that Jesus understood the difficulty inherent in the act of loving one’s enemy. He never joined the ranks of those who talk glibly about the easiness of the moral life. He realized that every genuine expression of love grows out of a consistent and total surrender to God…Our responsibility…is to discover the meaning of this command and seek passionately to live it out”

“…How do we love our enemies?

First, we must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. It is impossible even to begin the act of loving one’s enemies without the prior acceptance of the necessity, over and over again, of forgiving those who inflict evil and injury upon us. It is also necessary to realize that the forgiving act must always be initiated by the person who has been wronged…”

“…Forgiveness does not mean ignoring what has been done…It means, rather, that the evil act no longer remains as a barrier to the relationship…Certainly one can never forget, if that means erasing it totally from his mind. But…we forget in the sense that the evil deed is no longer a mental block impeding a new relationship…Forgiveness means reconciliation…The degree to which we are able to forgive determines the degree to which we are able to love our enemies.”

“Second, we must recognize that the evil deed of the enemy-neighbor…never quite expresses all that he is. An element of goodness may be found even in our worst enemy…This simply means that is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies…We recognize that…hate grows out of fear, pride, ignorance, prejudice, and misunderstanding, but in spite of this, we know God’s image is ineffably etched in (them).”

“Third, we must not seek to defeat or humiliate the enemy, but to win his friendship and understanding…Every word and deed must contribute to an understanding with the enemy and release those vast reservoirs of goodwill that have been blocked by impenetrable walls of  hate.”

“The meaning of love is not to be confused with some sentimental outpouring…In the Greek New Testament are three words for love.  The word eros is a sort of aesthetic or romantic love…philia, a reciprocal love and the intimate affection and friendship between friends. We love those whom we like, and we love because we are loved. The third word is agape, understanding and creative, redemptive goodwill for all…An overflowing love which seeks nothing in return…the love of God operating in the human heart…When Jesus bids us to love our enemies…he is speaking of agape, understanding and creative, redemptive goodwill for all…”

“Why should we love our enemies?

(First) …Returning hate for hate multiplies hate adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction. So when Jesus says ‘Love your enemies,’ he is setting forth a profound and ultimately inescapable admonition. Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies—or else?”

“Another reason why we must love our enemies is that hate scars the soul and distorts the personality. Mindful that hate is an evil and dangerous force, we too often think of what is does to the hated…But there is another side which we must not overlook. Hate is just as injurious to the person who hates. Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys…(the) sense of values and objectivity.  It causes (one) to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.”

“A third reason why we should love our enemies is that love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend. We never get rid of an enemy by meeting hate with hate; we get rid of an enemy by getting rid of enmity. By its very nature, hate destroys and tears down; by its very nature, love creates and builds up. Love transforms with redemptive power.”

“…An even more basic reason why we are commanded to love is expressed explicitly in Jesus’ words, ‘Love your enemies that you may be children of your father which is in heaven.’ …We must love our enemies because only by loving them can we know God and experience the beauty of his holiness. Of course, this is not practical. Life is a matter of dog eat dog. Am I saying that  Jesus commands us to love those who hurt and oppress us? Do I sound like most preachers – idealistic and impractical? My friends, we have followed the so-called practical way for too long a time now, and it has led inexorably to deeper confusion and chaos. For the salvation of our nation and the salvation of humankind, we must follow another way. This is the only way to create the beloved community.

Sermon – Matthew 2.1-12, Isaiah 60.1-6, EPD, YA, January 4, 2026

07 Wednesday Jan 2026

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At our 10:00 am service today, we honor the feast of Epiphany with our annual Epiphany Pageant.  Every year I love watching the children and youth bring the Christmas story alive one more time.  Part of what makes the service special is hearing the story with fresh ears – not from a clergy person reading from the aisle like every other Sunday, but with a variety of voices narrating and enlivening the words, making the incarnation story more incarnate.  I love how the pageant keeps us in the Christmas moment one more week, and I love how the story brings all our Christmas characters under one roof, reminding us of the continual unfolding of the mystery of the incarnation.  Though there is something certainly endearing about the whole experience of a pageant, there is also something quite profound in a pageant too.

But what pageants can sometimes do is focus our attention so intently on the manger – on Jesus and his family – that we forget what happens outside the manger is just as important as what happens at the manger.  Even our beloved carol “We Three Kings,” draws us to the experience of the magi’s adoration in Bethlehem, without insight into what happens in Jerusalem.  This year, after hearing of registrations, of humble births, of angel choruses, of everyday shepherds spreading the Gospel, and of cosmic explanations of the incarnation, we turn our attention to Jerusalem.  Isaiah gives us some clue about where our attention is drawn.  “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you…Lift up your eyes and look around…”[i] instruction in Isaiah is not for Bethlehem, but the city of Jerusalem[ii] – the city where Jesus’ journey will end, the city for whom Jesus weeps, the city of eventual redemption and salvation.  There, Isaiah foretells of the incarnation, how the people of God are to reflect the light of Christ, and to pay attention to what is happening around them, to God incarnate.

Those words, “lift up your eyes and look around,” have been lingering with me.  Instead of looking deep into the scene at the manger or with the holy family, I am drawn by what is happening in Jerusalem.  Three things happen there.  One, we learn more about the magi.  The testimony of the magi is what most of us associate with Epiphany.  Foreigners set out on a quest, more attuned to the cosmic nature of the incarnation than the people of faith.  Their astrological findings do not simply fascinate them, but inspire action – a long, uncomfortable journey to see the incarnation for themselves.  As profound as their witness is, they cannot complete the journey alone.  They stop in Jerusalem for guidance.  They know they are on the right path; they just cannot quite get to the proper place.  And so, the magi stop and ask for help along the way.  They know something significant has happened, but they need guidance from people of faith to fully realize their journey.[iii]

The magi’s insightful question, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?” is a question that brings in the second action.  The chief priests and scribes, the ultimate insiders of the faithful, those who hold the revelation of scripture and interpret scripture for the people of God, are given news that should be earth shattering.  When asked about the birth of the Messiah, the religious leaders recall what they know of the Messiah:  the Messiah is to be born of Bethlehem and is to shepherd and rule the people of God.  The religious leaders offer the key – the prophecy of scripture about the coming Messiah.  And yet, even though they have this scriptural foundation, they do not react to the news of the magi.  Even though these wise people profess this awaited Messiah has been born, the religious leaders do not drop everything.  They do not even ask to go with the Magi, just to check and see if this story might have something.  They may be versed in scripture, but their inaction shows that even insiders sometimes need outsiders to be faithful.[iv]

Finally, the third thing that happens are the actions of Herod.  Herod is probably the most fascinating to me.  He is wise too, even if he uses his wisdom for his own nefarious purposes.  Herod knows the announcement, even if from an outsider of a new king being born means his own kingship is threatened, and shows how fragile his rule is.[v]  But instead of acting impulsively, he manipulates those around him.  First, he calls in the religious leaders.  You see, Herod is not a Jew – in fact, he is a Roman, serving at the leisure of the kingdom.  But his subjects are Jewish, and so he is wise enough to seek their counsel on what a king, what a Messiah, might look like.  But instead of sending his religious leaders to check things out in Bethlehem, knowing they might discover a true king among them, he secretly sends the foreigners, hoping to manipulate them into doing the work of finding the king, knowing he will get news from them so he can kill this new king.  Herod is only worried about himself and his power, and he will do whatever is needed to maintain that power.

The foreign magi are so unfamiliar with the people of God, they do not initially understand the weight of their question about the new king.  The scribes and religious leaders are so buried in their scripture, and so keen to keep balance with secular power, they do not realize the messianic fulfillment right in front of them.  And Herod is so bent on keeping his power, he does not fully understand the power of God working all around him.  All three of these agents in our story need the words of Isaiah today – all three need to lift up their eyes and look around.

We are not unlike the characters in our story today.  How often are we so mired in our own power – as people of privilege and comfort, as Americans with power more globally, as members and advocates in this community – how often does a word about the movement of God, the promise of change, and the possibility of giving up some of our power to allow that fulfillment, make us just as nefarious as Herod – just as willing to manipulate the world around us?  Or how often have we steeped ourselves in scripture, scouring God’s Holy Word, longing for some sort of guidance or truth, not realizing truth is being spoken through another right to our faces?  Or how often have we been so intent on a mission, so focused on what we sense God calling us to do, we ignore the consequences of our actions, forget the power of our words?

Today’s scripture reading is certainly about the gift of the magi to us – the revelation of the incarnation, the insight of foreigners, and the abundance and homage the incarnation inspires.  But today’s scripture reading is also an invitation to consider our own response to that incarnation in the modern era, considering the ways in which we have not lifted our eyes and looked around.  Taking up Isaiah’s invitation to self-critique is important because there is also a promise in Isaiah.  You see, when we lift our eyes and look around, we acknowledge the narrowness in our lives, or we acknowledge the ways in which we are blind to our own power, or we discover the ways in which we even hide behind our faith, we are then able to see the promise in Isaiah.  Isaiah tells us to look around because glory of the LORD has risen upon us.  Isaiah says in verse five, “Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.”  When we talk about shining our light on this holy hill here at Hickory Neck, this is what we mean.  The gift of the magi to us is not news that is frightening.  When we are not hoarding power or hiding behind our intellect or comfort zones, the news of the magi is news for rejoicing.  And that rejoicing is light that draws nations, and kings, and neighbors, and strangers, and family members, and friends.  The gift of the magi is the invitation to let go of the things that feel under our control, and embrace the thing in no way we control, but in every way brings us grace, love, and abundance.  That is the kind of living that shines light from this hill and brings others to Christ’s light.  That is the light offered to us today in the magi.  That is the kind of good news worthy of pageants and proclamation today.  Amen.

[i] Isaiah 60.1, 4a

[ii] Rolf Jacobson, “Sermon Brainwave #701 – Day of Epiphany,” December 29, 2019, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1216 on December 24, 2025.

[iii] R. Alan Culpepper, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 217.

[iv] Culpepper, 217.

[v] Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew (Grand Rapids:  Brazos Press, 2006), 38-39.

Sermon – Luke 2.1-20, CE, YA, December 24, 2025

07 Wednesday Jan 2026

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Ten Christmases ago – my very first Christmas at Hickory Neck – we gathered near midnight in the Historic Chapel, mesmerized by the flickering of candlelight and eager to experience our first Christmas together.  It started out as an idyllic night.  And then, right as I began my sermon, a car alarm went off.  Now I am a consummate professional, so I kept going.  But I noticed how, after the alarm kept beeping and beeping, one parishioner at a time snuck out of the church to ensure the beeping was not coming from their car.  I swear that beeping went on for 5 minutes before we found the right clicker to shut the noise down.  Recovering, we moved forward with the service, overcoming other minor hiccups as I figured out how to best celebrate in the beautiful space by candlelight.  And then, right as we proclaimed the dismissal, we heard the blaring roar of fire trucks right outside the church.  We all looked confused as there was not fire in the space where we were worshiping.  We later learned that one of the candles got a little too smokey and the fire station down the hill had been silently alerted.  We were able to send them back to the station, but the night was anything but a Silent Night at Hickory Neck.

I have always found the fact that we sing Silent Night on Christmas Eve to be a humorous contradiction.  Nothing about the night of Jesus’ birth was silent.  His parents entered Bethlehem amidst the chaos of the census, where they finally found space in an inn among the animals.  I do not know how much you have been around animals, but they are not particularly silent – even while sleeping.  Then there is the act of giving birth.  I know Mary is the Blessed Mother, but I do not know of any woman who is silent in childbirth – let alone a newborn who is silent after the trauma of entering the world.  And although the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night might have been enjoying some relative quiet, those angels sure are not quiet.  I am pretty sure a multitude of the heavenly host praising God is really loud. 

So, what inspired the author of hymn Silent Night?  Well, we’ve cobbled together a bit about the formation of the hymn.  “Joseph Mohr worked as a country priest serving a small village in present-day Austria.  His father had abandoned the family prior to his birth, and Joseph relied on the encouragement and support of the local church for his education.  He was active in the choir, learned violin and guitar, and went on to seminary and full-time ministry.  While a parish priest, Joseph penned Silent Night and asked his friend, a local schoolmaster, to compose the melody for a Christmas Eve service.”[i]  Varying sources say he wrote the words while walking in the quiet snow-covered town, and that the night of Christmas Eve that year in 1818, the organ had broken, so the organist, Franz Gruber, figured out how to play the tune on the guitar.[ii]  There was something magical about the carol, though, because Joseph Mohr’s hymn spread around the world over time, being translated into over 300 languages.

But perhaps the most famous thing about the song happened almost 100 years later amid brutal trench war in World War I.  On December 24, 1914, “…as Christmas Eve night drew in, British soldiers watched in surprise as German troops began to place makeshift Christmas trees on the ridge of the German trenches.  Soon after enemy soldiers waved to each other and shouted Christmas greetings.  Then a few German soldiers came gingerly over the top of the trenches to retrieve their dead and wounded comrades from the battlefield.  British soldiers followed their example, until ‘No Man’s Land’ was cleared of the dead and dying.  Although the pause in fighting had brought a welcome sense of calm, both sides were still divided.  Then through the cold, starry night a German soldier began to sing ‘Stille Nacht,’ [or Silent Night].  What followed was both sides singing more well- known carols, some sung at the same time in both German and English.  Then soldiers ventured over the top of the trenches again, this time to exchange smiles, show photographs of loved ones, and even play football together.”[iii] 

As I have been thinking about the well-loved, seemingly universally healing and appealing carol of Silent Night, despite the obvious contrast in that actual, quite noisy night and the night described in the carol, I have begun to wonder what we mean by the word “silent.”  I wonder if instead of the absence of noise, we might mean a sense of hyperfocus.  When Mohr composed about that silent night, I wonder if he meant the silence that only comes with profound clarity where the world truly seems to stop as truth is revealed to you.  One can image how time seems to freeze, the distractions of crying children, or noisy uncles, or cranky pets suddenly mute, as profound truth makes sense for us.  On that snowy night in the World War I trenches, the profound truth was in the humanity of the formerly faceless enemy.  On that night in Bethlehem, the profound truth was that a Savior was born – not a generic savior but a savior born “to you,” the text tells the lowly shepherds.  On that night for that parish priest, with a broken organ on the biggest night of the Church year, the profound truth was “…not just a baby in a manger, but love’s pure light, …[where] we too can encounter God’s redeeming grace.”[iv]            

That is the church’s gift to you tonight too.  I cannot take away the noise of children (or adults who act like children), or the noise of anxiety and stress, or even the noise of seemingly unending political strife.  But the church can offer you the silence that comes from the truth of love’s pure light, radiant beams, and God’s redeeming grace.  Even if the noise only momentarily fades into nothing, in that silence the incarnate God whispers to you the only gift you need tonight – love’s pure light, radiant beams, and redeeming grace.  God gifts you with the grounding truth of this night, so that on all the other nights, all the other hours, all the other minutes, you have the silent night to help you brave the noise.  Amen.

[i] David Chavez, “Advent Devotional,” as found at https://www.cslewisinstitute.org/christmas-carol-silent-night/ on December 23, 2025.

[ii] “A Weary World Rejoices.  Silent Night: God’s Inadvertent Ways” St. Luke’s UMC, December 24, 2020, as found at chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.stlukesumc.com/GetFile.ashx?guid=f669184e-bb9b-4641-a7a9-e75da96a5d4a on December 23, 2025.

[iii] “Silent Night:  A Reflection,” as found at chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://missio.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/11/Silent-Night-a-reflection-notes.pdf on December 23, 2025.

[iv] Chavez.

Sermon – Matthew 1.18-25, A4, YA, December 21, 2025

07 Wednesday Jan 2026

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By the time we get to the fourth Sunday in Advent, most of us are on the Christmas train.  We have bought presents for loved ones, greened our homes and church (although we did hold back on any red to get us through Advent!), we have been singing along with Nat King Cole and Mariah Carey for weeks, and based on the crowd at the grocery store last night, we’ve bought tons of food for the big day.  So, on this fourth Sunday in Advent, when we hear of Jesus’ origin story – although not the fun version from Luke that we’ll hear in few days – most of our eyes glaze over and our ears tune out, thinking “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Joseph was a pretty cool dude to stay with Mary and claim Jesus as his own.”

This year, though, I am especially grateful for some time with Joseph and Matthew’s gospel.  Like many people of faith, I normally resonate more with Mary – I have multiple icons of Mary and Jesus in my office, I love to pray the Hail Mary, and given my gender, I simply relate to the physical experience of Mary more than Joseph.  But on a very practical, everyday level, Mary can seem a little otherworldly – a saint so saintly that she can be hard to emulate.  Instead, I like the earthy, realness of Joseph today.

Joseph had done everything by the books.  He is a righteous man, which means he follows the law to the letter.  Everything is heading in the proper direction, going as planned, according to schedule.  And then he gets the worst possible news.  Mary is pregnant.  Since Mary and Joseph are betrothed, but not yet in the stage of marriage where they have consummated the union, there is no way Joseph is the biological father of the child.  He can only assume Mary has been unfaithful.  Joseph has two options: he can have Mary stoned or he can divorce her.[i]  He is well within his rights to utilize either path, and would not receive criticism by other faithful Jews.  But Joseph is one of those rare treasures who not only knows the letter of the law, but also understands the spirit of the law.  Instead of a brutal, public punishment for Mary, he decides he will divorce her quietly, hoping to help her avoid the full force of cultural judgment.

Joseph makes a well-informed, respectable, and compassionate decision.  He makes his decision and then rests his weary mind and body.  That is when life changes yet again.  God appears to Joseph in a dream, and explains that Joseph’s decision cannot stand.  This child in Mary’s womb is special, and not only is Joseph not to divorce her, he is to legally claim the child as his own by naming the child.  So, what does Joseph do?  He bends even further than he already has, and takes Mary as his wife.

On the one hand, I like that this is a story of an ordinary man listening to and responding to God.  In that way, we hear the gospel lesson sharing a similar message to us today.  You don’t have to be some superstar like Mary, or have some band of angels come with messages, or even journey for months following a star.  You don’t have to be some holier-than-thou Christian, some uber-activist bringing on world peace, or even a sinless follower of God.  You just need to be like this everyday Joe – a Joseph who is willing to pay attention and to say a quiet yes – even if saying yes feels scary or scandalous.

Yes, on the one hand, I like that this is story of an ordinary man listing to and responding to God.  On the other hand, I like that Matthew’s gospel tells us that Joseph is not actually some ordinary man – some everyday Joe.  You see, Joseph is a direct descendent of not only Abraham, but also King David.  If we had read the 17 verses before the passage we read today, we would have gotten the genealogy of names that lead to Jesus – those hard names that every lector dreads reading.  But those names tell us so much.  Matthew, “…mentions Abraham – the patriarch who abandoned his son, Ishmael, and twice endangered his wife’s safety in order to save his own skin.  He mentions Jacob, the trickster usurper who humiliated his older brother.  He mentions David, who slept with another man’s wife and then ordered that man’s murder to protect his own reputation.  He mentions Tamar, who pretended to be a sex worker, and Rahab, who was one.  These are just a few representative samples.”  Scholar Debie Thomas asks, “Notice anything?  Anything like messiness?  Complication?  Scandal?  Sin?  How interesting that God, who could have chosen any genealogy for his Son, chose a long line of brokenness, imperfection, dishonor, and scandal.  The perfect backdrop, I suppose, for his beautiful works of restoration, healing, hope, and second chances.”[ii]

I like that Joseph is not just an ordinary man saying yes.  I like that Joeseph is a specific, special man, even if that specialness does not come from something he did.  In that way, Joseph is like every person in this room.  Like Joseph, your life is probably messy too.  You probably have misbehaving people in your family tree, that ancestor that people only talk about in embarrassed whispers, or that relative you do not want to introduce to anyone else for fear of guilt by association.  If God can use Joseph in all his messiness, specificity, and ordinariness, then you better believe God is likely inviting you, in your ordinary, messy, specificity into some scary, world-changing stuff too.  No wonder that the angel Gabriel’s first words to Joseph were, “Do not be afraid!”

I know you were hoping to hop onto the Christmas train and skip over this fourth Sunday in Advent.  But maybe this year isn’t supposed to be about some idyllic, picturesque Christmas.  As Debie Thomas says, “If we want to enter into God’s messy story, then perhaps [“Be not afraid” are] words we need to hear, too.  Do not be afraid.  Do not be afraid when God’s work in your life looks alarmingly different than you thought [God’s work] would.  Do not be afraid when God upends your cherished assumptions about righteousness.  Do not be afraid when God asks you to stand alongside the scandalous, the defiled, the suspected, and the shamed.  Do not be afraid when God asks you to love something or someone more than your own spotless reputation.  Do not be afraid of the precarious, the fragile, the vulnerable, the impossible.  Do not be afraid [to notice and embrace the] mess [of Christmas this year].  The mess is the place where God is born.”[iii]  Amen.           

[i] David Lose, “Matthew’s Version of the Incarnation,” December 17, 2013, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/matthews-version-of-the-incarnation on December 20, 2025.

[ii] Debie Thomas, “Into the Mess,” December 15, 2019, as found at https://journeywithjesus.net/essays/2484-into-the-mess on December 20, 2025.

[iii] Thomas.

Sermon – Matthew 11.2-11, A3, YA, December 14, 2025

07 Wednesday Jan 2026

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“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”  John the Baptizer’s words have been haunting me all week.  This year, John’s question hits a little too close to home.  As the safety of people of color has been threatened – whether they are legally or illegally here; as the hard-earned rights of women and those in the LGBTQ+ community are being second-guessed; as the decency of and respect for every human being feels lost as a shared core value, I too find myself asking, “Are you the one who is to come, Jesus, or are we to wait for another?”  Where is God in the unraveling of our nation and her communities.[i]

On this third Sunday in Advent – on this Gaudete Sunday, or Rose Sunday, or Joy Sunday – we find no joy in John the Baptizer’s experience.  “…Imprisoned for speaking the hard truth to Herod, John is in chains and in crisis, wondering if he has staked his life on the wrong promise and the wrong person.  The Messiah, as far as John can tell, has changed nothing.  He was supposed to make the world new.  He was supposed to bring justice, fairness, and order to human institutions, such that a tyrant like Herod would no longer sit on the throne, and a righteous man like John would no longer languish in a rat-infested prison.  Jesus was supposed to finish the costly work John started so boldly in the wilderness — to wield the axe, bring the fire, renew the world.”[ii]  And yet, nothing – nothing at all – has worked out as John had imagined from this supposed Messiah. 

So how does Jesus answer John’s question?  Well, before we go to Jesus’ words in Matthew, we first heard from Isaiah today.  You see, John is not the first person of faith to find himself floundering in despair and uncertainty.  The prophet Isaiah’s words were consumed by and encouraging to a people in exile – a people who had lost everything and knew not whether they would ever return to their gifted home.  To those despondent people, God instructs the prophet Isaiah, saying, “Say to those who are of a fearful heart, ‘Be strong, do not fear!  Here is your God.’”[iii]  Be strong.  Do not fear.  Here is your God.

Now you might be thinking, “No offense, Jennifer, but I have been trying for most of this year to be strong and not to fear.  And quite frankly, I’m not seeing much of God these days.”  You might be feeling like the last year is not so very different from that cold, dank prison cell where John sat – after, let’s be honest, living an exemplary life for God.  If a guy who leaps in the womb at the pregnancy of Mary with Jesus, who preaches in the wilderness with minimal resources and rustic living, who baptizes the Messiah himself – if that guy is sitting bewildered about God’s presence in Jesus in the world, how are we supposed to be strong – to not fear – to know that our God is here?

Well, fortunately, Jesus does answer John the Baptizer.  Jesus tells the disciples of John to, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.  And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”[iv]  In other words, scholar Debbie Thomas explains, “Jesus says: go back to John and tell him your stories.  Tell him my stories.  Tell him what your eyes have seen and your ears have heard.  Tell him what only the stories — quiet as they are, scattered as they are, questionable as they are — will reveal.  Why?  Because who I am is not a pronouncement.  Not a sermon, a slogan, or a billboard.  Who I am is far more elusive, mysterious, and Other than you have yet imagined.  Who I am will emerge in the lives of ordinary people all around you — but only if you’ll consent to see and hear.”[v] 

Thomas goes on to say, “But this story is not ‘okay,’ and many of our own stories aren’t okay either.  The prison bars that hold us don’t always give way.  Our doubts don’t always resolve themselves.  Justice doesn’t always arrive in time.  Questions don’t always receive the answers we hunger for.  Jesus calls us to see and hear all the stories of the kingdom — and that includes John’s story, too.  ‘Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me,’ Jesus says.  Offense runs away.  Offense quits.  Offense erects a wall and hides behind [the wall] because reality is harsher and more complicated than we expected [reality] would be.  Yes, some stories are terrible, period.  They break hearts and end badly.  People flail and people die, and this, too, is what the life of faith looks like.  Don’t take offense.  Don’t flee.”

Now, I don’t know if you know this, and you may be wondering why we get this part of John’s story today, but John the Baptizer is actually the patron saint of joy.  He was in Elizabeth’s womb and leapt for joy at the incarnation of Jesus inside Mary’s womb.  According to John’s gospel, when John the Baptizer knew his work was complete and that Jesus the Messiah’s work was beginning, he said, “My joy is now complete.”  So how do can we be strong, not fear, and trust that God is here?  How can we see and hear Jesus’ stories and embrace joy?

Debie Thomas argues about this, “Maybe John understood something hard and flinty about joy.  Joy in a prison cell isn’t about sentimentality.  Or happiness.  Or the pious suppression of our own most painful crises and questions.  Maybe he understood that joy is what happens when we dare to believe that our Messiah disillusions us for nothing less than our salvation, stripping away every lofty expectation we cling to, so that we can know God for who [God] truly is.  Maybe [John] realized that God’s work is bigger than the difficult circumstances of his own life, calling John to a selfless joy for the liberation of others.  Maybe John’s joy was otherworldly in the most literal sense, because he understood that our stories extend beyond death, and find completion only in the presence of God himself.  ‘Are you the one who is coming?’ John asked in despair.  ‘You decide,’ Jesus [answers] in love.”[vi]

Nothing we say or do today will whitewash the messiness of these days.  No amount of pink or talking or singing about joy is going to transform your heart into joy.  What Isaiah and Jesus are saying is that joy can be found though.  There are stories and examples of goodness all around you for you to see and hear.  Our invitation this week is look and listen – to each other, to our neighbors, to strangers and friend alike.  God is around us in the darkness, breaking through with joy.  Be strong.  Do not fear.  God is here.  God is here in you, and me, in the stranger, in the other.  Our work is to look and listen.  Amen.

[i] Karri Alldredge, “Commentary on Matthew 11:2-11,” December 14, 2025, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-of-advent/commentary-on-matthew-112-11-7 on December 12, 2025.

[ii] Debie Thomas, “Are You the One?” December 4, 2016 as found at https://journeywithjesus.net/essays/1201-are-you-the-one on December 12, 2025.

[iii] Isaiah 35.4a.

[iv] Matthew 11.4-6.

[v] Thomas.

[vi] Thomas.

Sermon – Luke 23.33-43, P29, YC, November 23, 2025

03 Wednesday Dec 2025

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Today I have a confession.  I am tired.  After watching the debacle of the longest ever government shutdown, only to jump into the next political scandal, struggling to understand how vastly different the kingdom of God is from the kingdom of man, I find myself not emboldened, but just tired.  Now, as person of faith, I am always looking for hope.  In fact, even this week, your Vestry and I spent time taking a step back and looking at all the goodness happening in this place – the signs of vitality and vibrancy, the things that are bringing us joy, moments and ministries that are giving us life.  But I confess, even with all that energy and goodness to celebrate, one look back out into the world, and my spirit is dampened and I am just…tired.

As I turned to our gospel lesson for today, I was hoping for some bit of encouragement – some promise that everything would be okay.  Knowing today is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday in the liturgical year whose text should bring into focus the point of a year of journeying with Christ, I had hoped that there would be some sort of rallying text that would invigorate me and shake me out of my exhaustion.  But instead, on this day when we honor Christ our King, what is the image we are given?  A beaten, humiliated, ridiculed, discredited, shameful shell of a man, hanging on a cross, defeated in approaching death.  We do not get Christ risen from the grave today – the ultimate Easter message.  No, today we get Good Friday – our hoped-for Messiah, seemingly defeated on the cross.  Of course, he dies with great dignity, forgiving sinners until the very end, welcoming the repentant even on their last breath, resisting every urge strike back or at least refute the charges against him.  He dies with dignity, but he dies nonetheless.

I have often thought it is strange how the cross, and not the empty tomb is our primary Christian symbol.  That we use an instrument of death as our sign for victory is rather odd.  But today we do not just honor Christ’s death on the cross; we honor how he died on the cross.  Even in death Christ our King managed to love his neighbor – even the really bad neighbors.  Even in death, Christ managed to love God – inviting God to forgive even the most hateful behavior.  Even on the cross, Jesus never loses his focus.  Jesus never gets tired.

Just like the kingdom of God is different, so is the king of God.  The people of God never really had a king until they reached the Promised Land.  They saw the neighboring countries with their armies and their admirable kings, and they wanted one for themselves.  That was their first mistake.  God granted them a king to rule over them, but inevitably, the kings, like any humans, were flawed – some more than others.  Hence, there are four books in the Hebrew Scriptures about the kings who ruled and the judges who tried to correct their behavior.  Most of the kings were corrupted by power, money, and greed.  Many abused the people.  Even the most revered king, King David, was a bit of a mess.  But Jesus is not like foreign kings or the kings of Israel.  Jesus’ kingship is different.  He loves the poor and cares for the sick, he sees through the pretenses of the temple and calls for authenticity, he loves deeply and forgives infinitely.[i]  And he never tires of being this kind of king.

For most of us, looking to Jesus as an example of how to rally out of our fatigue and weariness may feel overwhelming to our tired selves.  Instead, I found looking at the repentant thief to be helpful.  You see, the thief was probably tired too.  Anyone who is a thief has been hustling long before he gets caught.  He may have even been caught several times before for more minor offenses.  His arrest this time is different.  There will be no escape.  He will hang on that cross until he dies.  With the cruelty of the cross, and the pain of his body, also shining forth is an overwhelming sense of fatigue.  He too is tired.  Tired of running, tired of hustling, tired of the life that leads one to become a thief.  But even in his deep fatigue, he does something extraordinary.  When the other thief taunts Jesus, the repentant thief lets the other thief have it.  Hanging in agony, he looks outside himself, and refuses to stand for the hypocrisy of the other thief.  He decries the injustice of Jesus’ sentence, he wisely points out his own, as well as the other’s, culpability in sin, and then, without shame looks right at Jesus and asks Jesus to remember him.

Even at our most weary, tired states, when we feel like there is no hope, or when death feels ever present, Jesus invites us to keep shining our light for all to see.[ii]  Our gospel this week has people doing just that:  taking their world of hurt, pain, sadness, sorrow, defeat, seeming hopelessness, and turning toward the light.[iii]  The thief, hanging in humiliation and death, finds his light.  Jesus, defeated in the eyes of all but the thief today, keeps shining his light until the bitter end.  And Hickory Neck has them too.  Our children last Sunday and our psalm this Sunday that tell us to “Be still and know that I am God.”[iv]  Our parishioners delivering food before thanksgiving and shopping for the forgotten for Christmas.  Our members making stretch gifts to support the work of the kingdom here. 

Christ our King invites us to do likewise.  Of all people, Jesus understood being tired.  His cry out to God in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane is a prayer of a tired man.  But Jesus stood up that night, all the way to the cross on Calvary and refused to let fatigue be an excuse for a world without love, hope, and forgiveness.  Our king may not look like other kings.  His story may be strange and full of contradictions.  But our king has the power to pull you out of darkness and drag you into the light.  But along the way, he is going to need you to shine your light too.  Amen.

[i] David Lose, “Christ the King C:  What Kind of King Do You Want?” November 14, 2016, as found at http://www.davidlose.net/2016/11/christ-the-king-c-what-kind-of-king-do-you-want/ on November 21, 2025.

[ii] Karoline Lewis, “Who and What is Your King?” November 13, 2016, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=4754 on November 21, 2025.

[iii] Patrick J. Willson, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 337.

[iv] Psalm 46.10a.