Divine Encounters

“Divine Encounters” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on March 2, 2025. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 31:35.

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Scripture texts:
Exodus 34:29-35
Luke 9:28-36
2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2

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Have you ever had an experience that changed you forever? A moment where you saw the world or yourself differently? Maybe it was standing in the mountains, looking out at a vast horizon that made you feel both small and deeply connected to something greater. Maybe it was holding a newborn baby, realizing the weight of love and responsibility in a way you had never understood before. Maybe it was a hard conversation, one that shook you but also woke you up to a truth you could no longer ignore.

Moments like these change us. They open our eyes, shift our perspective, and mark us in ways that cannot be undone. Encounters with the divine are like that except even more so. When we truly encounter God, we do not remain the same. We are transformed. And that transformation is both beautiful and costly.

In today’s scripture, we see people encountering God in powerful ways: Moses, whose face shines so brightly after speaking with God that the people around him are afraid. Jesus, transfigured on the mountaintop, his divine radiance revealed to his disciples. And Paul, reminding us that we, too, are being transformed into God’s image with unveiled faces. But here’s the thing about these encounters: they are not just moments of glory. They are moments that call these people deeper into the struggle of faith. Moses comes down from the mountain into a people who will resist him. Jesus walks off the mountain straight toward Jerusalem and the cross. Paul, blinded by divine light, is reshaped for a mission that will lead him into suffering and sacrifice.

Friends, we live in a time when the light of truth is shining, and yet many would rather turn away. We see movements for justice, cries for dignity, and the truth of human worth shining brightly in every day moments. And yet, how often do also we see efforts to shut them down? Laws that seek to erase history. Policies that push people back into the shadows. Fearmongering that tells us to silence those who are crying out for justice, bullying that is supposed to convince us that the oppressed are the enemy.

But if we have encountered the living God, if we have truly been transformed by Christ’s love, then we cannot turn away. We cannot veil our faces in fear or retreat into comfort. Instead, we are called to step forward: to shine, to be refined, to stand with those who are being cast aside. Because transformation is not just about us. It is about how God is transforming us for the sake of the world.

Look at Moses! 

Moses comes down from Mount Sinai, carrying the stone tablets, the covenant of God written in his hands. But something else about him is different. His face is shining; radiant with the glory of God. He doesn’t even realize it at first, but the people around him do. And they are afraid.

This is the same Moses who once doubted whether he was the right person for the job. The same Moses who trembled before the burning bush and tried to talk his way out of God’s call. And yet, here he is now, his very body bearing the evidence of God’s presence. He has been changed. Transfigured. And the people don’t know what to do with it.

So Moses veils his face. Not because he is ashamed, not because he wants to hide, but because the people cannot handle the fullness of what they see. The divine glory on his face is too much for them. His transformation makes them uncomfortable.

Centuries later, Jesus ascends another mountain, and this time, it is not just his face but his entire being that shines with divine radiance. Peter, James, and John witness something extraordinary: Jesus transfigured before their eyes, his clothes dazzling white, his glory revealed.

Moses and Elijah, representatives of the law and the prophets, are there talking with Jesus about what is to come. The Gospel of Luke tells us something striking about the Transfiguration: the three are speaking about Jesus’ departure, his exodus, the journey he is about to take through suffering, rejection, and the cross.

The disciples are overwhelmed. They don’t know what to say. Peter, desperate to hold onto the moment, suggests building tents to stay there. But the voice of God interrupts him: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

Just as with Moses, the divine encounter brings both glory and burden. Jesus is revealed in brilliant light, but that light points toward the cross. The Transfiguration is not an escape from suffering; it is preparation for it. Transformation in God’s presence does not shield us from struggle; it strengthens us for it.

This is what Peter doesn’t yet understand. He wants the glory without the suffering, the light without the cost. But true transformation; true encounters with God; always leads us back down the mountain, back into the world, back into the hard work of love and justice.

Then there’s Paul. Paul had his own mountaintop moment, though his was not bathed in light but in blinding truth. On the road to Damascus, he was struck down by a vision of Jesus. The light of Christ didn’t just illuminate his path; it exposed his. Paul, once a persecutor of the church, found himself blind, helpless, and completely undone. His transformation was not just about glory; it was about reckoning with the truth. And it changed everything.

Years later, Paul writes to the Corinthians in his second letter about transformation, about unveiled faces, about what it means to be changed by God’s presence. He tells them, “All of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord… are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.” (2 Cor. 3:18) Paul is saying, No longer do we need to hide behind a veil, as Moses did. No longer do we need to be afraid of the light. We are called to live in it, to reflect it, to embody it.

But – and here’s the part we cannot forget – Paul immediately follows this image of transformation with a reality check later in chapter 4: “We do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake… We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed.” (2 Cor. 4:5, 8-9)

In other words, to be transformed by God is not just to shine. It is to suffer. It is to pour out one’s life for the sake of others.

Will we embrace the kind of transformation that does not just inspire but convicts? The kind that does not just comfort but disrupts? The kind that does not just illuminate but burns away all that keeps us from loving as God loves?

Because transformation is not just about personal faith. 

It is about how we live in the world. It is about taking our unveiled faces into places where the light is most needed… into the struggles for justice, into the places where suffering is real, into the work of healing and liberation.

Moses came down the mountain shining. Jesus came down the mountain walking toward the cross. Paul, blinded and then restored, spent the rest of his life proclaiming the gospel, no matter the cost.

And now it is our turn.

The light of God is not given to us to keep to ourselves. It is not meant to be locked away behind church walls. It is meant to shine in the world: to challenge, to transform, to heal. But let’s not be mistaken: that light will change us first. And that change, that transformation, may come with a cost.

But it is a cost worth bearing. 

This is why Paul speaks of living with unveiled faces, with boldness, with courage. It is why Jesus tells his disciples not to build tents on the mountain but to follow him back down into the valleys of the world’s suffering. It is why Dietrich Bonhoeffer, seeing the horrors of Nazi Germany, could not turn away, but declared, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” 

But when we stand in the light, when we refuse to veil our faces, we bear witness to something greater than ourselves. We bear witness to the glory of a God who does not stand far off, but who comes close, who walks with us, who suffers with us, and who leads us into new life.

And here, today, in this moment, we must ask ourselves: what will we do with the light we have seen?

Because the world is still trying to veil the truth. The world is still trying to silence the voices of justice. We see it in the relentless attacks against the most vulnerable: against victims of war, against LGBTQIA+ siblings, against immigrants and refugees, against those living in poverty, against anyone who dares to stand in the light and demand that God’s justice be done. The world does not welcome transformation. It prefers things as they are. It tells us to be quiet, to be cautious, to be careful. It tells us that faith should be private, that love should have limits, that justice should be slow.

But we have seen the glory of God. And we cannot go back.

We stand as a transfigured people: bold in love, courageous in justice, steadfast in hope. We refuse to veil our faces or soften the truth. We are the ones who walk back down the mountain, ready to follow Jesus into the hard and holy work of healing the world.

And when we grow weary, when the cost feels too great, when the suffering feels too heavy; we remember this: the same God who transformed Moses, who transfigured Jesus, who blinded and called Paul, is still at work in us. That same glory, that same light, that same love: it shines in us too.

We rise, unveiled and unafraid, transfigured and called. We go into the world, bearing the light of Christ. Amen. 

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Theophanes the Greek and workshop. Transfiguration, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=59721 [retrieved March 3, 2025]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Transfiguration_by_Feofan_Grek_from_Spaso-Preobrazhensky_Cathedral_in_Pereslavl-Zalessky_(15th_c,_Tretyakov_gallery).jpeg.

Love That Disrupts

 “Love That Disrupts” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on February 23, 2025. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 48:45.

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Scripture text:
Luke 6:27-36

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Is there anything you don’t like about Jesus?

When asking this question to our youth or to our eldest of members, when asking Jesus’ most committed of disciples to those who still on the fence, when asking a more traditional style of worshipper or a more contemporary style of worshipper, there seems to be a similar reoccurring answer.

Is there anything you don’t like about Jesus? Yeah, he tells us to love our enemies!

I get it. Because if we’re being honest, this is one of Jesus’ hardest teachings: loving our enemies.

Because Jesus isn’t just talking about the people who frustrate us. He’s not just saying, “Love the person who cut you off in traffic” or “Love the neighbor who doesn’t shovel their sidewalk.” No, Jesus is speaking to people who have been deeply harmed. People who know what it is to suffer under systems of injustice. People who have been insulted, humiliated, and oppressed.

It’s to them, Jesus says: Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who mistreat you.

And if we’re looking at the state of our country and our world right now; we’re feeling exhausted. We are a community that cares deeply about people. We stand with the marginalized. We speak up for the voiceless. And yet, in times like these, it feels like no matter how much we do, the forces of hatred and fear keep pushing back. I know many of us are struggling right now.

And so it’s also to us, Jesus says: Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who mistreat you.

And that’s where this teaching starts to feel impossible. Because when we’ve been wounded, when we see injustice running rampant in the world, when we feel overwhelmed by the hatred and division that seem to define our time, love is not our first instinct. We want justice. We want things to be made right. And sometimes, if we’re honest, we just want to see our enemies fall.

So what do we do with this command? What does it really mean to love our enemies in a world that feels so broken?

And I don’t need to define who your enemies are for you. As a member of the LGTBQIA+ community, I have my people who have harmed me and continue to harm people like me in this country and world. I’m confident you have people who have harmed you. While our “enemies” may differ, the ways in which we are called to love them remains the same. So let’s talk about that.  

The love we’re exploring today isn’t some passive type of love. It sure isn’t weak. In fact, it’s the most powerful force in the world as it’s the same love that God has for humankind.

The Gospel of Luke, like most other books in the Newer Testament, was written in koine Greek, or Common Greek; Greek that used at the time when Christ came to us as the Word made flesh. While the word “love” in English can describe many different types of relationship, each type of love had a different word in Greek. We know of at least four that were used during Christ’s time on earth.

First, there is Eros: a romantic, passionate love between two spouses.  

Second, we hear of Storge: a familial type of love between parents, siblings, children, etc.

Third, there is Phillia: the type of warm, affectionate love between friends with shared values and mutual respect. Think of Philadelphia, which translates to “the city of brotherly love”. An example of is when Mary and Martha send a message to Jesus letting him know: “Lord, he whom you love, your friend!, is ill.”

And fourth, there is Agape: unconditional, selfless love that extends beyond oneself. Agape is used over 100 times in the Newer Testament, most often used to describe God’s love for us… but also the love we should have for God and neighbor… and enemy.

Here is why this distinction of love is important. When Jesus is telling us to love our enemies, it is not romantic, familial, or even warm and affectionate between two friends. Love is not always friendly! But the love we have for our enemies is selfless.

What do we mean by that? This isn’t a sentimental type of love. It’s not the kind of love that ignores injustice or pretends that harm hasn’t been done. It’s not about keeping the peace at all costs or tolerating abuse. The love Jesus commands is something far more disruptive than that.

This love – this agape love, this selfless love that disrupts – is also the love Paul is describing in 1 Corinthians 13. I’m sure we’ve all heard this passage before, “Love is patient; love is kind…” and so on.

We often hear this passage at weddings, and while it can speak to the love shared between two people, Paul wasn’t writing about eros romantic love. He was writing about agape love to a divided church. A church where people were fighting for power, where some felt superior to others, where resentment and self-interest were tearing the community apart. Those who were already oppressed were the greatest recipients of the further harm being done.

So Paul encourages them to practice a love that is patient in the face of hostility, a love that is kind even when kindness is not returned, a love that does not dishonor others, even when others have dishonored them, a love that does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth, standing firm against injustice while refusing to return hate for hate, and a love that always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

This is not a love that ignores oppression. It is a love that refuses to let oppression define us.

And that brings us back to Jesus’ command. Because when he tells us to love our enemies, he is not telling us to accept injustice. He is telling us to refuse to let injustice turn us into people of hate.

Jesus is calling his followers to love in a way that refuses to play by the world’s rules. The world teaches us that when someone hurts us, we hurt them back. When someone curses us, we curse them in return. When someone takes from us, we take from them. We see this cycle of retribution everywhere—on the world stage, in our communities, even in our personal relationships.

But Jesus looks at that cycle of hate and says, No more.

Look at the examples Jesus gives:

·       If someone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also. This isn’t about being passive—it’s about reclaiming dignity. In Jesus’ time, a slap wasn’t just an act of violence; it was an act of humiliation. To turn the other cheek is to refuse to be humiliated—it forces the oppressor to see you as an equal.

·       If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt. Again, this isn’t about rolling over—it’s about exposing the injustice. Imagine someone in court suing you for your coat, and instead of fighting back, you hand them your shirt, standing there with nothing left. It makes their greed and cruelty undeniable.

·       Give to everyone who asks of you. Do to others as you would have them do to you. This kind of generosity goes beyond what is fair. It reflects a world that is shaped not by power and control, but by God’s abundance.

Jesus isn’t saying, “Let people walk all over you.” He’s saying, “Do not let their hatred define you. Do not let them dictate the terms of your response.” That’s what makes this love so radical. It is not passive: it is active resistance against the forces of hate and fear. It is a love that refuses to play by the enemy’s rules.

And that’s where it gets personal for us. Because we live in a time where hate is loud. Where fear is being used as a weapon. Where injustice is being justified in the name of power. And we, as disciples of Christ in the world today, have to decide: Will we respond in the way the world expects us to? Or will we disrupt the cycle?

I believe, in my heart of hearts, we will live out a love that disrupts.

It will challenge the world’s way of doing things. It will force people to see the humanity even in those they have dehumanized. It will break the cycles of fear and hate.

This love means speaking truth—but doing so without cruelty. It means standing firm—but doing so without losing our compassion. It means confronting injustice—but doing so in a way that offers an alternative, rather than just another version of the same broken system.

And that’s what makes it so hard. Because loving like this is costly. It requires something of us. It means choosing a different way when the world gives us every reason to lash out. But Jesus never said it would be easy—only that it would be worth it. A better world filled with more agape love will be worth it.

First Presbyterian Church of Allentown is called to embody this love. We are a community that welcomes the outsider, that refuses to demonize, that works for justice not out of bitterness but out of a deep and abiding love for all of God’s children. Because when we live this way—when we love this way—we disrupt the patterns of the world. We refuse to let hate and fear have the final word. And in doing so, we bear witness to a kin-dom that is not built on power or revenge, but on the radical, transformative love of Christ.

Because here’s the truth: people are watching.

In an age of division, people are watching to see how those who are hurt respond. In a time of fear, people are watching to see if we will choose courage. In a culture of retaliation, people are watching to see if we will love differently.

So what will we show them?

Will we mirror the hatred that surrounds us, or will we disrupt it?

Will we let fear dictate our actions, or will we trust that love is still the most powerful force in the world?

Will we be a people who love boldly, courageously, prophetically; people who refuse to let the world’s brokenness dictate our response?

That is the challenge before us. That is the call of Christ.

When we live this way—when we love this way—we don’t just endure the world as it is. We help transform it.

This is the love that heals wounds. This is the love that builds bridges. This is the love that brings the kin-dom of God near.

So may we go from this place ready to love—not with a love that is weak or easy, but with a love that disrupts, that challenges, that refuses to let hate and fear have the final word.

May we love in a way that changes hearts, changes communities, and, by the grace of God, even changes the world.

Amen.

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Love Your Enemies, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=58810 [retrieved February 23, 2025]. Original source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/boojee/2929823056/.

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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