Words for the Beginning: The Road Isn’t Straight

 “Words for the Beginning: The Road Isn’t Straight” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on January 5, 2025. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 38:45.

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Scripture texts:
Isaiah 43:16-21
Matthew 2:1-12

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Standing at the threshold of a new year and a new chapter, many of us might feel a sense of anticipation. I sure do! We make plans, set resolutions, and chart our paths forward.

But if we’re honest, how often do those plans unfold exactly as we imagine? Life’s road, as we know, is rarely a straight one. It twists and turns, surprises us with detours, and sometimes feels completely uncharted. This truth echoes across time and space, from the journeys of own modern wanderings to those of ancient seekers.

Look to the journey of the Magi. Matthew’s account gives us few details about the Magi’s identities, but we know they were outsiders—likely astrologers, scholars, or priests from Persia. They were people of wisdom, people of questions, and most importantly, people willing to leave the comfort of the known to pursue the divine light breaking into the world.

Nothing about their road was straightforward. They traveled through foreign lands, navigated political tensions, and encountered the deceptive schemes of King Herod. Yet they persevered, guided by the star…

And upon reaching their destination, the Magi’s response was one of awe and joy. When they found the Christ child, they knelt in worship, offering gifts that reflected their reverence: gold for a king, frankincense for a priest, and myrrh, a foretaste of the suffering this child would one day bear. These gifts spoke to the identity of Jesus, but also think of the gifts that came of the Magi’s journey—the courage to seek, the wisdom to listen, and the faith to follow.

And the Magi’s story speaks to us because it mirrors our own.

Too often, we’re told that a successful life is a straight line—a clear trajectory from one milestone to the next. But the Magi remind us of a liberating truth: the road isn’t straight, and it was never meant to be. Life, faith, and God’s purposes unfold through unexpected twists, turns, and detours. What if we embraced this truth? What if, instead of fearing life’s twists and turns, we saw them as invitations to trust God more deeply and follow the light wherever it leads?

This brings us to Isaiah’s prophetic words: “Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters… I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

Isaiah spoke to a people in exile—a people whose straight road had been shattered. Their lives had been uprooted, and their future was uncertain. Yet, God promised something extraordinary: not a return to the past but a new way forward.

The wilderness is not an easy place, but Isaiah assures us that even there, God is at work. God makes paths where none seem to exist and brings life to even the most barren of places.

As a congregation, we know this wilderness well. When our previous lead pastor left, we entered a season of uncertainty. We didn’t know what the future would hold, and at times the road felt long and unclear. We’ve faced detours, challenges, and even hurt.  

For nearly five years, we’ve navigated the uncertainty of leadership transitions and the challenges of ministry in a rapidly changing world. Yet, through it all, God made a way for us, guiding us through every twist and turn and step by step, we moved forward. We deepened our faith, strengthened our community, and discerned God’s vision for our church. Like the Magi, we trusted the light we were given—and God has been faithful through it all.

Going back to the magi, their journey home became a testament to their courage. After meeting Jesus, they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so in an act of bold defiance, the Magi chose a different path home. Imagine that moment: their journey, already long and winding, suddenly took another turn. They abandoned the clear, expected route and charted a new, unknown course.

Now, as we prepare to meet the candidate for our next lead pastor next week, we stand at another turning point in our journey. It’s a moment filled with excitement, anticipation, and maybe a little fear.

And yet, life often calls us to take leaps of faith. Sometimes the light we follow leads us into unexpected places, and so we are invited to trust that God is with us. As we prepare for this next chapter in our congregation’s journey, we are asked to trust the light God has given us and take that next step forward, even when the path ahead isn’t perfectly clear. But it is hopeful!

God specializes in making a way where there is no way. Just as God guided the Magi to Jesus and then sent them home by another road, God guides us, making paths in our wilderness and bringing life to the desert places of our souls.  God is faithful.

Today, as we gather at the Lord’s Table, we are reminded that this meal is for travelers. The bread and cup sustain us on the journey, no matter how uncertain or winding the road may be. In this sacrament today, we will also receive our star words. The practice of Star Words mirrors the Magi’s journey of following the light. The Magi’s journey wasn’t linear, but it was illuminated. These words are an invitation to listen for God’s voice in the twists and turns of our journeys. It’s another tool we add to our belt to prepare ourselves and reflect on both the journey ahead and the journey we’ve already traveled.

Receiving a star word is an act of trust and an invitation to discern God's presence. Star words are not chosen by us, as much as we would like to, but are received, reminding us that we are not in control of our journeys, as much as we would like them to be.

Like the Magi, who had to trust the star’s light, we are invited to trust that God’s guidance is woven into the word we draw and the lives we live. The word may challenge, comfort, or surprise us. It will also invite us to reflect on how God is at work in our lives.

Last year, my word was “approve.” At first, I didn’t like it. It felt vague and uninspiring. I wondered, “What does this word have to do with me?” But over the year, it became a touchstone. One moment stands out: a sixth grader in our middle school group asked me, “What if God just wants you to know that we approve of you as our pastor?”

Star words can reveal God's intention. I can speak to this! That question stayed with me through the rest of the year, especially in moments of doubt. It reminded me that God’s approval isn’t conditional. It’s not about walking the “straight and narrow” or avoiding mistakes. God’s love and because of my word, approval, God’s love and approval are constants, grounding me – grounding us – even when the road isn’t straight.

This practice is not about perfection or linear growth; it is about attentiveness. Place your star word somewhere you will see it regularly—in your Bible, on your mirror, or at your desk. Just as the Magi had to look up at the sky to see the star’s light, we are called to remain open to the ways God through a Star or a Star Word can illuminate our path and draw us closer to Christ.

As we take communion and receive our star words, we remember that the road isn’t straight, and that’s okay because God is with us, making a way in the wilderness and if needed, guiding us home by another road.

May we, as a community, continue to trust that God who has been faithful to us through every twist and turn is still making a way, bringing streams of hope and life in the desert places. May your star word guide and challenge you, drawing you closer to God and illuminating God’s presence among your journeys. And may you remember that the love of Christ—the love that knows your name—goes before you, beside you, and within you every step of the way.

To conclude, we turn now to a poem—a prayer, really—that speaks to the winding roads we all walk. It echoes the journey of the Magi, the words of Isaiah, and perhaps even our own stories. Hear these words as an invitation to see God’s presence on every path, even the ones you never planned to take:

 

Field Notes by Sarah Speed

With tears in your eyes,
you name all the bumps
and zigzags your life has taken.
With clenched teeth
and a hummingbird pulse,
you wake up
and wonder—how did I get here?
In the last 40 days of
desert wandering, you say
you haven’t heard God’s voice once.
You say you miss when God was close,
when God used to sing the harmony line.
So you yell at the sky,
begging God to drop a pin,
to name the road,
to draw you a map.
You lament the way this life isn’t easy.
You ask me—was the road ever straight and narrow,
or was that all a lie?
But then you crest the mountain,
and I don’t hear from you for a while,
because God was growing
in the lilac field
on the other side of the hill.
God was scattered
among the pebbles
of the road you never planned to take.
Isn’t it amazing, you say,
there are a million roads home
and God walks every single one of them.

As you go from this place, may you trust that truth: God walks every road, even the ones you’d rather avoid, the ones you never planned for, and the ones that feel like wilderness. God is with you, in every zigzag, every climb, and every unexpected turn. And no matter where the journey leads, there is always a way home in Christ. The road isn’t straight, but it is sacred. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Words for the Beginning: You Are a Blessing

 “Words for the Beginning: You Are a Blessing” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on December 1, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 31:40.

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Scripture text:
Luke 1:26-38

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Today marks the beginning of Advent, a season of endings and beginnings. As the calendar year draws to a close, a new church year begins, inviting us to reorient our lives around the birth of Christ—a birth that ushers in new ways of living, loving, and hoping.

Yet, as we know, even as we prepare for this sacred new chapter, the world around us continues to spin madly on. And for so many of us here in our country and across the world, some days it is a dark, sad, terrifying world.

But the Advent season is filled with paradoxes: light in the midst of darkness, hope in the midst of despair, beginnings in the midst of endings.

Mary, pregnant with Christ, embodies this tension. She lived in a world marked by oppression and uncertainty, yet her response to God’s calling was a proclamation of hope—a song of trust in a God making all things new.

Can you imagine what Mary would have thought to herself that night following the Angel’s visit?

An angel appeared and said that Mary a young unwed girl would bear the Son of God. A girl from Nazareth; a girl from Galilee! How? Why?  Why would God choose someone like her? Her heart must have been racing. Her fear probably felt like it might take over. But deep within, she heard the angel’s words: “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you… Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus” She probably still didn’t understand how or why, but I’m sure she felt the truth of those words. God saw her, God called her, and God named her favored.

Mary’s story reminds us of the radical nature of God’s love. The Gospel of Luke tells us that God’s angel Gabriel goes to a girl in Galilee. In her book, The First Advent in Palestine, Kelley Nikondeha writes: “Jewish ears must have burned when they heard Luke’s Gospel mention a girl from Galilee.”[1]  She explains that the northern region was known for uprisings and protests, and they were considered “lesser Jews” because many were uncircumcised, they did not worship in the temple, and some married non-Jewish people.[2] 

Nikondeha continues, “. . . the God who goes to unexpected places—to the north, when all expect south; to lowly priests with no sons—this God can go to an unlikely girl in an unlikely place shaped by resistance and maybe even trauma. God shows favor, demonstrating again and again in infinite reversals that human taboo and stigma don’t limit the Spirit.”[3]

God’s Spirit is not constrained by what society makes us feel about ourselves. God’s angel bypassed the powerful and wealthy, traveling instead to a humble girl in an overlooked village. And Gabriel’s words to Mary—“Greetings, favored one!”—cut through centuries of shame and exclusion.

God has a history of working in unexpected ways through unexpected people.

Think of Abraham and Sarah—an elderly couple without children—called to be the ancestors of a great nation. Or Rahab, a Canaanite prostitute who had faith in the God of Israel and became part of the lineage of Christ. Then there’s David, the youngest of Jesse’s sons, a shepherd overlooked by everyone but God, yet God chose him to defeat Goliath and later become Israel’s leader.

At Jesus’ birth, the first witnesses were the lowly shepherds in the fields. The Samaritan woman at the well—an outcast—became one of the first to proclaim Jesus as Messiah. The apostle Peter, impulsive and flawed, was chosen to be the rock of the church. And let’s not forget the young unnamed boy with five loaves and two fish—an offering that Jesus used to feed thousands.

Each of these people may have seemed unqualified, ordinary, or unworthy in the world’s eyes, but God saw something different. God called them beloved, chosen, and capable of transforming the world.

So what makes you any different?! What makes you unqualified or unworthy?! Nothing! You are a blessing!

It’s easy to hear words like these and dismiss them as sentimental or naïve. The world often tells us otherwise. We are bombarded by messages that equate our worth with our productivity, our achievements, or our social status. For some, life’s struggles—poverty, injustice, rejection, fear, mental health—whisper the lie that we are burdens rather than blessings.

But God’s declarations to ordinary people—people throughout scripture, people like you and me—cut through those lies. God’s love does not depend on what we do but on who we are—creations of the divine and children of the holy. This love is not earned or transactional; it is freely given.

Hear the words of Isaiah 43:1-7, from The Message Translation. Hear it as a love letter from God to you, God’s chosen and beloved:

“Don’t be afraid, I’ve redeemed you.
I’ve called your name. You’re mine.
When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you.
When you’re in rough waters, you will not go down.
When you’re between a rock and a hard place,
it won’t be a dead end—
Because I am God, your personal God,
The Holy of Israel, your Savior.
I paid a huge price for you:
all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in!
That’s how much you mean to me!
That’s how much I love you!
I’d sell off the whole world to get you back,
trade the creation just for you.
“So don’t be afraid: I’m with you.
I’ll round up all your scattered children,
pull them in from east and west.
I’ll send orders north and south:
‘Send them back.
Return my sons from distant lands,
my daughters from faraway places.
I want them back, every last one who bears my name,
every man, woman, and child
Whom I created for my glory,
yes, personally formed and made each one.’”

God’s love is not passive. It is a love that accompanies us through fire and flood, through seasons of uncertainty and trial, as the world spins on. God does not promise any of us an easy path, but God does promise to be with us through every path. And God really does want the very best for us. Every day with every breath, God wants us to know what a blessing we are.

And so, today, I want you to hear these truths with your whole heart:

• You may feel small and unseen, but God sees you and calls you by name. 

• You may think your past defines you, but God is making all things new.

• You may feel weak, but God’s power is made perfect in weakness.

• You may think you have no voice, but God speaks through even the silence.

• You may feel you’re walking in darkness, but God’s light is guiding your way.

• You may feel like you’ve failed, but God’s mercy is new every morning.

• You may think your contribution is too small, but God can multiply it beyond measure.

• You may feel broken, but God is the potter who reshapes and restores.

• You may feel like you’re not enough, but God has called you “good”.

Take these words to heart. Let them be a balm for your spirit and a reminder of your worth. You are a blessing—not because of what you do, but because you are God’s.

Today, as we gather at the Communion table, we encounter one of the clearest signs of God’s love. This table is an open, constant, and repetitive invitation back to grace. Here, we remember that Christ came into the world not to condemn but to redeem; not to burden us but to bless us. This bread and cup remind us that we are called by name, nourished by God’s love, and sent into this world as blessings.

Advent reminds us as we begin again, we must start by first seeing ourselves as beloved.

The Angel’s words to Mary are the words God speaks to each of us time and time again: “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you… Do not be afraid for you have found favor with God. And now, you carry within you my love for you and you will bring that love into this world.”

You are enough. Not because you are perfect, not because you are powerful, but because God’s favor rests on you. You are a part of God’s unfolding story of love and redemption. Hold onto this truth when the road is hard, when others doubt you, and when you doubt yourself. You are a blessing. And through you, God’s love will bless the world.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

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Graphic design by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org

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[1] The First Advent in Palestine: Reversals, Resistance, and The Ongoing Complexity of Hope, by   (Minneapolis: Broadleaf Books, 2022). 39.

[2] Ibid, 40-41.

[3] Ibid, 48.

Fruits of the Spirit: Hospitality

 “Fruits of the Spirit: Hospitality” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on October 27, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 42:25.

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Scripture texts:
Genesis 18:1-10
Hebrews 13:2

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Friends, today we gather to explore another fruit of the spirit—hospitality. And before you challenge me on whether hospitality is a fruit of the spirit because indeed it is NOT listed as one of the seven fruits in Paul’s letter to the Galatians, let me tell you! First, I was assigned this fruit and this Sunday… and second, hospitality is a foundational discipline given to the people of God by God. Throughout scripture, in the Older and Newer Testaments, we see this practice lived out… and the consequences of when it is not. Hospitality, at the root of our faith, is expected of us. 

Hospitality is a radical welcome rooted in God’s love. Our mission here at First Presbyterian is clear: We are imperfect people striving to live God’s love in the way of Jesus Christ. In other words, we’re a people who, despite our imperfections, seek to reflect God’s love and welcome. This kind of love, this welcome, is what we mean when we talk about hospitality. And as we see from today’s texts, hospitality is a radical, faith-filled way of seeing Christ in each person and making room for one another. And, as we also see from today’s texts, it’s a practice that opens us to unexpected blessings. 

Today also marks Reformation Sunday, a day to remember the reformers who reshaped our tradition, moving it to be more Christ-centered, open, and accessible. The reformers embodied hospitality by creating a space for all, especially the common people, to connect with God. We continue to embody hospitality as we seek to create spaces of welcome in our lives, our church, and our communities.

Let’s begin with Genesis 18. In this passage, we find Abraham sitting at the entrance to his tent in the heat of the day. Three strangers appear before him, and without hesitation, he hurries to greet them, bowing low to show them honor. He doesn’t merely offer a quick hello; he invites them to rest, refresh themselves, and enjoy a meal. 

Abraham didn’t know who these visitors were, and he had every reason to ignore them. It was hot, and he was elderly. But he felt a holy nudge, a call to welcome these strangers with open arms. And through his hospitality, Abraham and Sarah received a blessing beyond their wildest dreams: the promise of a child.

This story is a reminder that when we practice hospitality—when we make space for the stranger—we often receive blessings we could never anticipate. Abraham’s encounter encourages us to welcome others not because we expect something in return, but because God calls us to this act of love and openness. And in that process, we often find ourselves blessed and transformed.

We see a similar call in Hebrews 13:2, where we’re reminded to “not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”

Every encounter – whether it’s a conversation with a friend, neighbor, or stranger – holds sacred potential. Every stranger we meet may be carrying a blessing from God. We may not recognize it at first, but our call is to treat them with the same welcome we would extend to Christ himself.

This isn’t always easy. To see Christ in each person requires us to stretch our comfort zones and to look beyond labels and divisions. It means practicing a kind of love that doesn’t ask for credentials or preconditions but simply says, “You are beloved. You belong.”

Our modern lives often move at a fast pace; we don’t always make room for others in our routines, let alone in our hearts. Yet, God invites us to pause, to open our lives, and to embrace radical hospitality. But what does this hospitality look like in our church?

Here’s one example. In our children’s and youth programs, we’re working through a series called “Hospitality in God’s Home,” connected to our FaithFULL Housing mission project. This series helps our young people explore how God calls us to welcome and care for others, especially those who are vulnerable. Through the FaithFULL Housing project, we’re not only learning about hospitality, but we’re putting it into action as we work to provide shelter and support for those without homes. This is the heart of biblical hospitality: opening our hearts and our resources to those in need.

And I have to share a moment that brought this all home just a couple of weeks ago. My brother and sister-in-law were visiting, and I was eager to introduce them to our church family. As we went from room to room, we found ourselves with the high school youth, who were studying hospitality in scripture as part of the series I mentioned earlier. They’d been discussing Luke 7:36-48, where a woman anoints Jesus’ feet as a gesture of extravagant hospitality. As I introduced my family, one of our adult leaders asked the youth, “How would we show hospitality to Pastor Taylor’s family?” And one of our freshmen, quietly but with a humorous confidence, replied, “Wash their feet?” 

I’m grateful my family wasn’t subjected to any spontaneous foot-washing that day! But isn’t it remarkable how our youth understand that true hospitality sometimes does indeed call for acts of humility and service? 

This brings us back to our FaithFULL Housing mission project. As we study biblical hospitality, we’re not only remembering stories from Scripture, we’re also connecting them to real action. The FaithFULL Housing project is an embodiment of our call to welcome the stranger and ensure that all have a place to call home. Through education, advocacy, and hands-on service, we work together to address the need for affordable housing—reflecting God’s desire for justice and welcome for all people.

Today’s ‘Noisy Houses’ collection is a joyous, noisy reminder of this. Just moments ago, our children collected our offerings to support our mission to build homes locally and globally. These offerings are more than coins in a bucket or house; they’re symbols of our commitment to a world where everyone has shelter, where everyone has a place in God’s home. Our children, learning to give and serve, remind us that hospitality isn’t limited to those who can give “big” but is rooted in the simple, faithful acts of each person, each child, each family.

Hospitality, like the other fruits of the Spirit, grows in us as we practice it. And it’s a practice that begins in small ways. Whether through a friendly smile, a kind gesture, or a contribution to the FaithFULL Housing mission, each act of welcome continues to preach the important message we all need to hear, “You are beloved. You belong.”

True hospitality can be risky. When we make room for others, we open ourselves up to discomfort, to encountering differences that stretch us. We might even experience resistance within ourselves, and that’s okay. The journey of faith doesn’t call us to be perfect but to be faithful. We’re invited to bring our whole selves to God’s table, to welcome others with all the love, grace, and kindness that we have been shown.

So, as we leave today, I pray that God’s Spirit would guide us in offering that welcome, that hospitality, to all whom we meet. We will create a world where every person feels at home in God’s home; where justice, kindness, and radical welcome abound.

May we each become a living invitation to God’s grace, opening wide the doors of our hearts and our lives, for we never know when we might be welcoming angels unaware.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

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Welcome Home!

 “Welcome Home!” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on September 8, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 44:40.

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Scripture texts:
Matthew 10:1-14
Matthew 28:16-20

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Today we gather to celebrate a new beginning—a homecoming. Rally Day! Our Fall Kickoff! Today is the start of a new season; the start of school and faith formation; the start of another year to live out God’s love! 

Today we embark on another journey together. Today we pause, remember, and give thanks to why we call First Presbyterian Church of Allentown our home. We reflect on who we are and the mission God has entrusted to us; the members and friends of First Presbyterian. Here, our mission is this: “We are imperfect people striving to live God’s love in the way of Jesus Christ.”

Trish read to us two scripture passages from the Gospel of Matthew. Our scripture readings from Matthew 10 and Matthew 28 remind us of the calling God commissions to his apostles and the promise that accompanies it. In the spirit of this homecoming, I invite you to open your hearts to the words of Jesus, who calls us not just to gather, but to go forth into the world with purpose.

In the first text, we witness Jesus appointing his twelve disciples to carry forth his mission. This moment is powerful, as it marks a transition from Jesus being the sole bearer of the good news to empowering his followers to continue the work he began. Jesus’ compassion for the crowds, described earlier in Matthew 9, sets the stage for this commissioning. He sees the people in the world as “harassed and helpless,” like sheep without a shepherd. In our own context, how often do we see people struggling, feeling lost, or in need of community? It’s impossible to not to! Go out into the streets; log on to social media; turn on the tv… and we see a hurting world. 

And while it might be easier to go back into our own homes, get rid of social media, and vow to never turn on the tv again; it does little to heal the hurt and share the love that has been so freely and powerfully given to us. Go back to our mission statement: “We are imperfect people striving to live God’s love in the way of Jesus Christ.”  This is our call and our mission; given to us by God through our own discernment and prayer, conversation and community. This mission entrusted to us is not just a reflection of our ideals; it is our responsibility given to us by the Spirit to live out God’s love, to bring hope and healing to a world in need. Disciples follow Christ but we have been called to be more; to be the apostles; to be the sent ones, to be the bearers of the Good News. 

As we launch into the start of a new year, we are reminded that this moment is about more than just starting programs; it is about returning to our roots, embracing the community that we have built together, and recommitting ourselves to the mission God has entrusted to us. We gather as a family, each of us bringing our unique stories, struggles, and triumphs, united in our goal to reflect God’s love in our lives and share it with others. So first, let me say: Whether you are a longtime member or a first-time visitor, welcome home! We are so very glad and grateful God has called you here! 

Now let me ask you: Why you call First Presbyterian Church of Allentown home? Is it the warmth of our community? The shared laughter and tears? Is it the joyful music? The commitment to justice and service? Children saying the Lord’s Prayer during worship? Write down your thoughts on the notecard. “Why do you call First Presbyterian Church of Allentown home?” You have some time to think about this. Ponder it during the rest of the sermon or our affirmation of faith. We will collect the notecards during the offering; please place it in the offering plate along with other gifts. “Why do you call First Presbyterian Church of Allentown home?” Try not to think so much about what brought you here in the first place or why you were active in the past; think about the here and now. In this season of your life, “Why do you call First Presbyterian Church of Allentown home?”  And if you are a first-time visitor or still relatively new to this community, put a star on your notecard and write “What do you look for in a church community?”

We must share that Good News with others! 

In Matthew 28, we encounter the Great Commission, where Jesus, after his resurrection, sends his disciples out into the world with a clear mandate: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations.” This command echoes through the ages, reminding us that our mission is not limited to our church walls but extends to all corners of the earth.

This moment is crucial for the disciples, many of whom are still grappling with doubt and uncertainty. Jesus does not dismiss their concerns; instead, he reassures them that all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to him. This is not an authority that comes from dominance or oppression but one that empowers and liberates. 

This authority is important because Jesus knows full well who is calling: imperfect people. Imperfect people just like us. 

As we think about our own mission statement, “We are imperfect people striving to live God’s love in the way of Jesus Christ,” we recognize that our journey is filled with imperfections. We are not called to be perfect; but we are called to strive, to learn, and to grow. The beauty of our community lies in our shared experiences and our willingness to support one another through it all. We are reminded that love – love for God and love for neighbor – love(!) is the foundation of our mission.

In the early church, the call to make disciples of all nations challenged the disciples to think beyond their cultural and ethnic boundaries. Jesus’ mission was inclusive, reflecting the diversity of God’s creation. As we strive to live out our mission, we too must be mindful of inclusivity, welcoming all people regardless of their background.

This is a critical moment for the church today. We live in a world that often divides us along lines of race, gender, socioeconomic status, orientation, and more! Our mission invites us to break down those barriers, to extend God’s love to all, and to ensure that everyone feels they belong here. The early church grew as it embraced diversity, and we too can experience growth when we embody the love of Christ in our interactions with one another.

And our church has experienced this growth! Our church has become a home for those who have been marginalized and a place of healing for those who have been wounded. It is a community that celebrates diversity and honors each person for who they are and who God created them to be! 

But we are not done. We can’t be done. Our mission isn’t just when we are here, confined by these four walls. 

As articulated by our new co-moderator of the General Assembly, Rev. CeCe Armstrong said in a recent sermon: “We should leave [worship] ready to do everything in love.”

Everything! 

“Love always!” she preached! “Love always!”

As we strive to welcome, affirm, and love people from all backgrounds, ethnicities, identities, and orientations, we embody the love that Jesus exemplified. Striving to live God’s love into our daily lives means treating others with kindness, standing up for justice, and being present for those in need. It means creating spaces where people feel safe, valued, and heard. 

You are safe, valued, and heard! 

Each of us plays a vital role in this community. Your presence, your voice, and your actions matter. And together, we are strong and grace-filled! We can do so much good in the world. Recognize this! Recognize the power of community. As imperfect people striving to live God’s love, we support and uplift one another in our journey of faith. In our shared experiences—our joys and sorrows—we find a deep sense of belonging; we find our home. 

Continue to ponder the question from earlier: “Why do you call First Presbyterian Church of Allentown home?”

First Presbyterian Church of Allentown is not just a building or a Sunday morning activity; it is a community—a home where we gather to be transformed and be sent out as apostles of God’s love.

As we reflect on our mission statement and soon our core values as we affirm our faith together in just a moment, we get to celebrate today knowing our calling is transforming lives and communities. God’s love is transforming lives and communities! 

Our Fall Kickoff marks a new chapter in our journey together. Let us approach this year with renewed enthusiasm and commitment. We are imperfect people, but together we can strive to live God’s love and transform the world for the better. We can bring healing and hope to a world that is hurting. 

And we remember the promise Jesus gave to his disciples; gave to us; before he ascended into the heavenly kingdom. Jesus said, “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” 

Always. 

Welcome home, dear friends. Welcome home to a place of love, grace, and purpose. Amen.

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Bread for the Journey

 “Bread for the Journey” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on August 11, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 40:10.

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Scripture text:
1 Kings 19:4-8
John 6:35, 41-51
Ephesians 4:25-5:2

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Let us pray:
Almighty God, as we hear your gracious Word, make us hungry for Jesus, your holy manna, that we may feed on him, the bread of life. Amen.

It is nearly impossible to ignore the volatile political landscape our nation finds itself in. I’m sure you know this; try as we might but it is nearly impossible all the negativity that is happening. As the presidential race continues to heat up, we find ourselves bombarded with attack ads and social media commentary that tear each other down; tear the other person down; rather than uplift the voices that truly matter. We are in the middle of an election between Donald Trump and Kamala Harris, who at times seem more focused on casting shadows over the other than on illuminating a path forward for our people. As our politicians – the leaders of our country – tear each other down rather than enacting policies to build people up, I ask you to consider: What sustains you in such turbulent times? What keeps you steady and hopeful despite the conflict and chaos?

In this time of division and strife, we are called to remember that we are not just bystanders; not just witnesses to what is happening around us. As disciples of Christ, we are participants in something much greater than ourselves. We are part of a community, a body of Christ that has the power to nourish and uplift one another. God provides us with what we need for our journey. Jesus is the bread of life—the living bread—a gift from God for all of us.

Let’s start with the story of Elijah in 1 Kings. After a dramatic showdown with the prophets of Baal, where God’s power was displayed, Elijah finds himself in a state of despair, fleeing from the threat of death ordered by Queen Jezebel. He journeys into the wilderness, feeling utterly defeated and despondent. Elijah collapses under a broom tree and prays to God and prays for death, saying, “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Elijah, a prophet of God who despite his victories, now feels the crushing weight of fear, guilt, and exhaustion.

How many of us can relate to those moments of despair? Life can be overwhelming, and we often find ourselves in our own wilderness, feeling lost and questioning our worth. But God did not abandon Elijah in that moment. Instead, a messenger from God comes to Elijah, not with condemnation for his prayer of death, but with sustenance—bread and water—and encourages him to rest. And then the messenger of God provides for Elijah and encourages him to rest for a second time. Twice. 

This moment – the provision of physical sustenance – gives Elijah the strength to continue his journey for forty days and forty nights. 

We too endure our own battles—be it in our careers, our families, or our communities. We often feel like we are wandering, lost in the wilderness of our own struggles, or the struggles of our nation. Yet, just as God provided Elijah with bread for his journey, God also offers us the bread of life through Jesus, who sustains us and gives us strength to carry on.

Elijah’s bread was literal, but it was also a symbol of God’s sustaining grace. Just as Elijah needed physical sustenance for his journey, we need sustenance for our journeys: physical, emotional, and spiritual. This brings us to our Gospel reading from John, where Jesus declares, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

In this passage, Jesus is addressing a crowd that is struggling to understand his identity and the nature of his mission. They murmur among themselves, skeptical of his claim to be the bread that came down from heaven. They know Jesus as the son of Joseph and Mary—ordinary, familiar figures. Yet, Jesus calls them to transcend their ordinary perceptions and recognize the extraordinary truth of who he is.

Peter Claver Ajer, in his commentary on this passage, emphasizes the symbolic nature of bread in John's Gospel. Bread is not just physical sustenance; it is a symbol of life: a relationship with God and the promise of eternal nourishment. Jesus, as the bread of life, offers himself as the source of life. He is the Word of God, the Logos, who sustains us and restores us. Like the bread we must eat for physical sustenance, Jesus is reminding the people that our spirits need him. It’s more than just literal bread; Jesus sustains us in ways that physical bread cannot. In our weariness, in our moments of despair like Elijah’s, Jesus offers us him: his life; his grace; his strength – the living bread! 

But this gift of the bread of life is not just us. Like the feeding of the 5000, the bread we are given must be shared with every member of the community. In our third passage for this morning, In the letter to the Ephesians, we are asked to imitate God; to imitate Christ in our own lives. If Jesus is the bread of life for us, we must in turn provide this ‘bread’ for others. The author of Ephesians asks us to “speak the truth to our neighbors,” to “let no evil talk come out of our mouths, but only what is useful for building up,” and to “be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.”

Sally Brown, a former professor of mine, writes these are not just moral guidelines but radical blueprints for a transformed community. In a world where discourse is often marked by lies, anger, and division, these words are a revolutionary call to a different way of being. We are called to put away falsehood, to address our anger without letting it fester, to work honestly and share with those in need, to speak words that build up rather than tear down, and to cultivate kindness and forgiveness in our daily lives.

This transformed way of living is how we imitate Jesus as the bread of life. Just as Jesus sustains us, we are called to sustain each other. A word of encouragement or an act of kindness can give another person the strength they need for their journey. Alternatively, words of malice and actions that tear down can derail someone’s journey.

Now for a positive story, this past Wednesday, I took our new youth advisory team to a high ropes course for a team-building exercise. This group of young leaders will be brainstorming, planning, and implementing youth ministry events throughout the year. Despite the pouring rain, our youth cheered for each other as we navigated our fears and anxieties high up in the air. “You can do this!”, “I believe in you!”, “You’re amazing!”, “I’m right here; come to me”, “Go ahead and try!”, and “You did it!!”. No matter the obstacle or the occasion, for two hours we encouraged each other and built each other up. We cheered for each other! Imagine if our political leaders were like that; where they would cheer for each other and build each other up. Because it is without a doubt that if we did not have the encouragement or even someone to walk with us as we tried even the first level of courses, some of us might not have had the courage to try at all.

And shout out to Captain Burke who came to my rescue when I got stuck in the middle of an obstacle dangling from a zipline. As I was holding on for dear life, he was gently telling me to “hang on” and imagine the ground below was lava, which I didn’t need to do because I was already holding on for dear life as I was high in the air; don’t worry; I was rescued! 

On Wednesday, we spent afternoon cheering for each other, encouraging each other, empowering each other. On Wednesday, our new youth advisory team – the leaders of our church – experienced a glimpse of the kind of community envisioned in Ephesians. A community where we build each other up, where we sustain each other with words and actions of love and kindness. This kind of community is going to do great things in our church and our world; a community that builds people up! 

Jesus, the bread of life, sustains us with his grace and love. And in turn, we are called to be bread for each other’s journey, offering encouragement, kindness, and support. We must strive to be a community that lives God’s love in the way of Jesus Christ, especially in a world that often seeks to tear us down.

In the next few weeks and months, as navigate the turbulent political landscape and the challenges of our daily lives, hold fast to the sustaining grace of Jesus, the bread of life. Be mindful of the ways we can build each other up, offering words and actions that sustain and strengthen. And remember, just as God provided for Elijah in his moment of despair, God provides for us with the living bread of Jesus Christ.

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

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No More Dividing Walls

 “No More Dividing Walls” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on July 21, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 34:25.You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 34:25.

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Scripture text:
Ephesians 2:11-22

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Good morning, everyone. Before we dive in, let's take a moment to center ourselves. Take a deep breath and remember we are here together, united in Christ's love.

This summer Carter and I along with a few guest preachers decided not to preach a series but rather we are listening to the Spirit at work and letting God guide us to the texts that we will use in worship that Sunday. Mostly, God has been guiding us to use the texts from the Revised Common Lectionary, or the assigned texts for a Sunday as part of a three-year cycle. Specifically, we’ve been using the Gospel text and the Epistle text the last two weeks, so we are continuing that today. And I do believe the Spirit led us to this week’s text. In our Epistle reading from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, we find a message that resonates deeply with us in the wake of the political unrest and violence we’ve witnessed. 

Paul is addressing the Gentiles, a predominantly Greek community in Ephesus, asking them to remember their roots as a people of faith. The Gentiles were exploring their faith in Christ, but they did so in opposition to their Jewish neighbors, leading to separation and conflict. Paul reminds the Gentiles that they were once "the other," strangers to the covenants of promise, without hope in the world. But God brought them into the kingdom, not to now exclude the Jews, but to unite all of God’s people together. 

Paul’s message is clear: there should be no separation between Jew and Gentile. God intends for all people to be united as one. He emphasizes that in Christ, those who were once far off have been brought near, creating a new humanity out of the two groups. In Ephesians, he’s writing this message to the Gentiles but this message is ultimately for both the Jews and the Gentiles. 

Because in his letter to the Galatians, where Paul is writing to a predominately Jewish community, Paul echoes this same message, saying, “In Christ, there is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male or female, for all are one in Christ Jesus.” 

Paul continues this “In Christ” message in all of his letters. 

“In Christ, we are made fully alive.”
 “In Christ all things hold together.”
“In Christ,” Paul writes, “You have been built into the household of God, which includes Jews and Greeks.”
“In Christ,” Paul writes, “You have been built into the very dwelling place of God, a place that has no dividing walls that separate us and create strangers.”

But you’ve experienced these dividing walls, haven’t you? We all have. And we’ve all met someone different than us, failed to see the imago dei within them, and created a stranger out of them. History shows that we can easily build these walls inside the church. The church was once perceived as just for the chosen, just for the Israelites and Jews. Before the Reformation, it was for the educated and wealthy, those who could pay for their salvation. At one time, the church supported slavery and resisted integration. We still see churches with closed communion tables, baptism for only the worthy, solely men in leadership roles, and calls for repentance from LGBTQIA+ individuals. The church has plenty of dividing walls. And if we can do it in the church, we can do it oh so easily everywhere else.

These dividing walls separate us and create strangers out of one another. And unfortunately, we find comfort in these walls. We find comfort in what divides us; not in Christ who unites us. 

This comfort is where the damage is done.

What we forgot (or choose to ignore) is when God first set apart the Israelites, they were symbolically marked as set apart by circumcision, as Paul referenced in the opening lines to today’s passage.  But this distinction was never meant to create an exclusive "us versus them" mentality. Instead, Israel was set apart for the sake of the other nations. They were called to be a light. And when the Israelites were at their best, they embodied this calling, creating a vision of unity where everyone was part of an "us" together.

Churches filled with good-hearted Christians don’t intend to create strangers. What they – what we – intend to do is protect holiness, or at least our idea of holiness. Paraphrasing a sermon from The Rev. Dr. Craig Barnes, he wrote, “We all have some cherished idea of the holy. Maybe it comes from a transformative religious experience, years of studying theology, or an inherited tradition that gives us a sense of identity. Whatever it is, we cherish it so much that we build a wall around it to protect it. And as soon as we do that, we create a stranger of our neighbor because that wall keeps them from it. So it has always been.”

The temple of Ephesus had walls the kept the Greeks in and the Jews out, the temple in Jerusalem had walls that kept the Jews in and the Greeks out. All temples had interior walls that separated men from women. And there was even this great, great veil that separated the Holy of Holies, protecting the sacred from the profane But all these walls ever did was create strangers. Greeks were strangers to Jewish worship, Jews were strangers to Greek worship, and all of us were strangers to holiness.

All the liberals over here, all the conservatives over here. We keep the people who are righteous up close, but the sinners off in the margins. We love the people who are like us, and we judge those who are not and we keep them as strangers over there. We refer to them as them and not us. This is not the way Christ built the church.

And God wouldn’t put up with this. At the death of Christ on the cross, the veil in the temple that separated the presence of God from those deemed unworthy was torn from top to bottom, so the holiness we tried to contain could rush out into every broken part of the world. In Christ, it’s all made holy again.

These dividing walls can come down anytime we are ready to repent of our sin of dividing Christ’s body. The church cannot be fully alive in Christ if we have any strangers within it.

The recent assassination attempt on former President Trump at a political rally is a reminder of the dangers of these dividing walls. Political violence is on the rise, fueled by an "us versus them" mentality. 

As the body of Christ, we are called to say a definitive "no" to political violence and be peacemakers in our communities. This involves confessing and confronting the violent tendencies within ourselves and our society, resisting dehumanizing language, building bridges of curiosity and compassion, and cultivating practices of nonviolence in civic life. As disciples of Christ, we are called to a higher standard, one that breaks down these walls and seeks reconciliation.

And it starts by confronting the stranger within our own hearts. The stranger we are often most afraid of is the stranger within ourselves. We build dividing walls in our hearts, showing our neighbors only the parts we are proud of, while hiding our shame and fears. This divide between our best and worst selves causes hurt to others. 

Have you ever found yourself saying something that was so mean and absolutely devastating to someone that you truly love? That comes from the stranger inside your heart. I did that this week to someone I care about; right now I am so mad at someone (and don’t worry it’s none of you) that right now I see them as an “other” and not a person I care about. I am hurting, and I am upset. But I forget that the person is also hurting. And I know where this hurt comes from. It comes from the stranger that we created when we divided our heart between the good and the bad, the sacred and the profane; when we walled off some parts of our heart to keep it protected or contained. You can try to ignore this stranger in your heart if you want to, but it's not going to go away. In fact, by ignoring it, it only strengthens the stranger within us, leading to more broken relationships.

We often fear the parts of us that are broken, lonely, and afraid. We try to compartmentalize our lives, separating the good parts from the bad parts. We compartmentalize the person we know ourselves to be from the person others expect us to be. But we must let our faith in Christ break down dividing walls and to be the Redeemer for every part of us. Not just the parts we love about ourselves, or the parts that make us feel the most worthy and full. But also we must let Christ be a redeemer for the parts of us we want to hide or run from; the parts that make us strangers to ourselves. 

Otherwise, what's going to happen is that the part of you that you fear the most is inevitably going to be projected onto the other around you. This is one of the reasons that the church and the world is so divided, because we each fear the brokenness that remains in our own hearts, and it's so much easier to work on that in somebody else rather than ourselves.

So for the sake of the divided church and the divided world, break down the dividing walls. Whatever it is that makes you a stranger to yourself and that sees a stranger in another, it all has to be surrendered to Christ. All of it. God doesn't just love the part of you that is already holy. Jesus wasn't dying just to save the part of you that's already righteous. The loving salvation of God has to embrace all of you, the good and the bad, the holy and the profane. It's the only way break down the walls we have built. And if we can do it within ourselves, we can do it in another. 

In God’s Church, there are no strangers. So let me be clear: In this community of faith, there are no strangers.  In Christ, you belong here. 

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. 

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Naked in Shame / Clothed with Grace

 “Naked in Shame / Clothed with Grace” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on June 9, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 30:03.

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Scripture text:
Genesis 3:1-24

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Let’s imagine a scenario together. 

Let’s say one afternoon you get a call from someone dear to you, one of the people you love most in this world, perhaps a spouse or a best friend. They call you, and they are frantic, “I need your help! I need you to come to the garden section of Home Depot right now! Hurry, hurry! Please! It’s an emergency! But don’t tell anyone; don’t even call 911. I just need you! And bring a large jacket!”

So you rush off to Home Depot to find your loved one. As you get to the garden section store, you hear their cries but you can’t seem to locate them. “Where are you?!” you call out to your friend!  

“Psst, over here!” And then you see your loved one, standing behind a fig tree… and then you see it… your loved one seems to be missing some clothes… in fact, all of their clothes… they are naked! 

What might be your very next question to your loved one?

Was it something along the lines of “Why are you naked?!” 

Now let us turn to Genesis 3 to hear a similar story. But before we do, I want us to approach this story as if it were the first time. I think there is a common assumption that this story is about Adam and Eve, God and Satan, the Fall and the first sin. And although we might have been taught this about Genesis 3, theologians and scholar can’t seem to agree how accurate the story really is. Most likely, this story actually never took place, or at least in this way because Genesis was written to help explain and establish God’s relationship with God’s people. So first, let’s understand Genesis, especially Genesis 3, as a story to describes the relationship between God and humankind. This is not just a story about God and Adam & Eve, or really in this case “a man and his wife” as the two are not named until the end of the passage where just Eve is named. Second, there’s a serpent, which we might understand as Satan. But once again, how true is that? Satan or the devil is not named in this passage.  Here, the serpent represents doubt, temptation, shame, and death. And it’s not really against snakes, as snakes were created in creation and called good and snakes will return in our biblical stories. And last, this story is titled as “The Fall” or the first sin, and yet in Hebrew, sin or the fall are not words used in this passage. So  please let go of every preconceived notion about this passage, and instead try to hear it for the first time, through our own eyes, as we are part of humankind that God is establishing a relationship with in the book of Genesis.

We head into the metaphorical Garden of Eden. We can imagine the lush greenery, the vibrant colors of the flowers, the gentle rustling of leaves in the cool evening breeze – but really Eden describes a paradise created by God, perfect in every way. A man – Adam in Hebrew – and his wife - the first humans lived in this Paradise in perfect harmony with God and with each other. There was no shame, no fear, no hiding. They were naked. They were created naked. And they were unashamed.

Our passage begins with a seemingly innocent question posed by the serpent: "Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden'?" (Genesis 3:1). But this question is the first recorded instance of doubt being sown into the human heart. This question sets off a series of events that would lead to a shift in the relationship between humanity and God because doubt is introduced to humankind. Not sin, but doubt. Their doubt would lead them down a path of temptation. But it wasn’t just temptation to eat the fruit from the tree; humankind is tempted to listen to a voice that contradicts God's voice for the first time. Temptation has now been introduced. Doubt and now temptation. 

Humankind then eats from the tree, and their eyes are opened. And they realize they are naked. They were naked all along but now they realize they are naked. In their newfound awareness, they sew fig leaves together to cover themselves because they see their nakedness as bad. And so when they hear sound of God walking in the garden, the man and his wife, now aware of their nakedness, hide among the trees. This is because the two are ashamed of their nakedness; ashamed for what they have done. Shame has now been introduced to humankind. Not sin – but doubt, then temptation, then shame. Sin still hasn’t been named. 

Because the man and his wife are now hiding from God, God asks, "Where are you?" 

The man responds, "I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked, and I hid myself." "I heard," "I was afraid," "I was naked," "I hid." Humankind's fear and shame drive the man and his wife to hide from God.

But the next question to them is unlike any human question. Going back to our scenario, if we saw a friend naked in the garden section of store, we might ask, “Why are you naked?!”

But God asks the two, “Who told you that you were naked?” 

Not why! But “Who told you?”

Because God knew the two were always naked. They were created naked. And God and humankind felt no shame in their nakedness because they were created in the image of God, and God called them good. Think of the youngest of infant and toddlers; they have no shame in being naked because they were born and created naked. But eventually we as a shame-filled society teach them there is shame in being naked. And then unfortunately we teach them shame, not just about nakedness, but shame for their very own very identities. 

This is what creates the divide between God and humankind because doubt and temptation and shame caused the goodness we feel about ourselves and the goodness we were created in to feel tainted.  This divide is death. 

Doubt, then temptation; shame, then death. 

In many ways, this narrative mirrors our own experiences. We too hide our full selves because of shame and brokenness. Society tells us that we are too fat, too skinny, too feminine, too young, too old, too black, too dumb, too weird, too poor, too weak, too different. We are told we are not masculine enough, not successful enough, not normal enough, not straight enough, not strong enough, not worthy enough, not good enough These labels, like the realization of nakedness, are not bad or wrong! They are beautiful! But we have been conditioned to view them as negative because society led us to believe that they are bad. Just as the man and the wife were always naked without shame until they were told it was bad, we too are influenced by the voices that tell us we are not enough.

Consider the various ways in which we experience nakedness and shame in our lives. We might feel exposed in our relationships, fearing rejection or judgment. We might feel vulnerable in our careers, doubting our abilities and fearing failure. We might feel inadequate in our spiritual lives, struggling with doubts and feeling distant from God. In all these situations, the voices that tell us we are not enough can be overwhelming. 

But these moments of feeling exposed or vulnerable or inadequate do not make us less; it makes us human. Because being fat or skinny, straight or gay, man or a woman, white or black, weird or different, or anything in between or outside of those binaries is not a bad thing! It’s who we are. It’s what God created. It’s what God called good when God created, so it is good! It’s who God desires to be in relationship with; us! Our full selves. Every part of our identity. And there is no shame in identity; there is no shame in who God created us to be. 

But yet we still feel shame at times.

God's question, "Who told you that you were naked?" invites us to reflect on the sources of these negative perceptions. Why do we listen to voices that contradict God's truth? Why do we allow society to dictate our worth and our identity? This question is about our spiritual and emotional vulnerability. It is about the voices we allow to shape our self-perception and our relationship with God; it’s when we let voices that contradict God’s voice taint that self-perception and our relationship with God. 

And while we might want to focus on the “punishments” of Genesis 3; all were reversed in Scripture. The serpent is considered evil, until God snakes return in scripture, including when God transforms Moses’ staff into a snake to show God’s presence and power. We hear that women will desire their husbands and their husbands will rule over them, until Song of Songs tells us that man will desire his wife, and that humankind is now equal in our desire for each other. Yes, humans will have to work the soil of the earth, but it won’t be our own works that will save us. Because ultimately, this passage also alludes to one more thing: Jesus victory over death, “as the offspring of woman will strike the head a serpent;” the serpent that represents doubt, temptation, shame, and death. Jesus will strike the head of death. And Jesus did. And Jesus was victorious. 

The story of Genesis 3 points us to the grace of God. Because even in the midst of judgment, there is hope. The man and his wife are clothed by God with garments, a symbol of God's provision and care. This act of clothing them is a powerful image of grace because God doesn’t just leave us in a shame; leave us to fend for ourselves in the divide because that divide is death. 

Even when we leave the metaphorical garden, God remains with us. This truth is evident throughout Scripture. After the man and his wife, now named Eve at the end of Genesis 3, are expelled from Eden, God continues to interact with them and their descendants. In Genesis 4, God engages with Cain and Abel, demonstrating that divine presence is not confined to a perfect garden but extends into the messy realities of human life. And the story continues. 

Because this passage is about our God who is with us even when we walk out on God’s story. It is about a God who finds us even when we try to hide in the world God created. It is about a God who asks us what we have done even when God already knows what we have done. This divine pursuit is an expression of God's grace. It means that no matter how far we stray, no matter how deeply we hide, no matter how low we fall to shame, God seeks us out, desiring to restore our relationship and close the divide of death that was established.  

We are called to listen to God's voice above all others, to let go of the shame and brokenness that weigh us down, and to trust in the grace that clothes us. We are called to see who we are as good, because that is what God called us when God created us. This journey is not always easy. We will face moments of doubt and struggle, but we are not alone. God's presence is with us.

Remember, my friends, we are not defined by our mistakes or by the labels society places on us. We are not defined by our shame or brokenness.  We are not defined by the reasons we don’t feel good enough. We are defined by the love God has for us; by the grace God gives to us. Even when we falter, even when we hide in our shame, God seeks us out.

May we have the courage to listen to God's voice above all others. May we embrace our true identity as beloved children of God, clothed in grace and redeemed by Christ. And may we walk in the knowledge that God is with us, even in our moments of nakedness and shame, guiding us toward a future filled with hope and promise.

This is the message of Genesis 3. 

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

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