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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Wandering Heart: Here's My Heart

“Wandering Heart: Here’s My Heart” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on April 7, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 33:04.

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Scripture text:

John 21:1-19

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Our Lenten, now Easter journey, has been a pilgrimage of sorts, following the footsteps of Peter: from the abundant catch that led him to drop everything and follow Jesus to walking on water, professing his faith, being rebuked, receiving foot washing, denying Jesus, and running to the tomb. And now, on this day, we witness Peter’s encounter with the risen Christ, an encounter filled with forgiveness, redemption, and love so relentless it washes over Peter like a healing balm.

But before we journey further, let us revisit where it all began for Peter. As we embarked on our Lenten journey, we turned to the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 5 where we first met Peter. He was Simon then, a fisherman casting his nets in the deep waters of Lake Gennesaret. Jesus, with his divine authority, commanded Simon to let down his nets for a catch. Simon, although reluctantly, obeyed, and to his awe, he witnessed a miraculous catch, so abundant that their nets were about to break. Struck by this miracle, Simon fell at Jesus' knees, confessing his unworthiness. But Jesus, in his infinite grace, gave Simon a new purpose, a new identity. "From now on, you will be catching people," Jesus said, transforming Simon the fisherman into Peter, the fisher of men.

From that moment on, Peter embarked on a transformative journey, walking alongside Jesus, witnessing His miracles, and absorbing His teachings. We journeyed with Peter as he walked on water, as he confessed Jesus as the Messiah, and as he faltered and denied Jesus three times the night of His trial. Each of these moments, these snapshots of Peter's journey, revealed to us our own humanity and the divine grace that is intricately woven into our own journeys of faith.

Now, in today's text, we find Peter once again by the shoreline, casting his nets into the sea. The scene is eerily similar to that day on the lake of Gennesaret. Peter, along with a few other disciples, has spent the night fishing but caught nothing. As dawn breaks, a figure appears on the shore. It is Jesus, although the disciples do not recognize Him at first. He instructs them to cast their nets on the right side of the boat, and when they do, they haul in a catch so abundant that they cannot haul it in.

In this miraculous moment, echoes of the past reverberate, and one of the disciples recognizes Jesus. Upon hearing this, Peter, in his characteristic impulsiveness, jumps into the sea to meet Jesus, just like he did when he walked on water to meet Christ in the midst of a storm. The parallels between this encounter and Peter’s call story are striking and powerful. Once again, Jesus provides an abundant catch, a symbolic affirmation of the abundant life He offers. Once again, Peter, the fisherman, encounters the divine on the shores of his everyday life, and once again, his life is about to be transformed.

But this story is not just about an abundant catch; it is a story of relentless love and redemption. Jesus didn’t just provide an abundant catch; He also provided a healing moment for Peter. In the heart of this story lies a powerful dialogue between Peter and Jesus. Jesus offers Peter a chance to redeem his three denials with three affirmations of love. Jesus asks Peter, not once, not twice, but three times, ‘Do you love me?’

But Jesus is not seeking to remind Peter of his betrayal, or to rub salt into his wounds. We don’t worship a God who kicks us while we are down. Instead, His intent is to offer Peter a chance to affirm his love for Christ, a chance to heal and redeem himself. 

Can you imagine the weight of this moment? The weight of Jesus’ question asked three times? Can you imagine Peter’s heart, heavy with guilt, lightening with each declaration of love? Each time Peter says ‘Yes, Lord; you know that I love you,’ he is being redeemed. His guilt and shame washed away by the relentless love of Jesus.

Jesus’ questions to Peter were not a test of his loyalty but an affirmation of his redemption. With each affirmation of love, Jesus entrusts Peter with a new mission: “Feed my lambs.” “Tend my sheep.” “Feed my sheep.” It’s as if Jesus says to Peter, ‘Here’s my heart,’ washing over Peter’s denials with a healing balm and a call to shepherd the flock he was first entrusted with before his three denials.

This is the essence of Christ's love for us – relentless, unyielding, redemptive. It's a love that does not focus on our failures but sees our potential; a love that does not hold our past against us but offers us a future filled with hope. We worship a God who constantly seeks those who are down to lift them back up; our Savior who does even if the reason we are down is our own doing.

This story teaches us that no matter how many times we fail or deny Jesus, His love for us remains the same. His grace is sufficient. His mercy is abundant. He asks us the same question He asked Peter, ‘Do you love me?’ And like Peter, we are given the opportunity to affirm our love for him and receive his redemption.

Christ’s love is a love that does not waver, even when we falter. It is a love that pursues us, even when we have strayed. It is a love that forgives, even when we have fallen short.

Consider the child who disobeys their parents, causing disappointment or frustration. Yet, the parents' love for the child does not diminish. Instead, they lovingly guide the child back to the path of righteousness, forgiving their mistakes, and reaffirming their love.

Think of the friend who, in a moment of weakness, betrays a trust. The relationship is strained, and trust is broken. But true friendship is a manifestation of relentless love, and so the wronged friend forgives, offering another chance, a fresh start.

Or the person battling addiction, who after months of sobriety, relapses. It's a heartbreaking setback, but it doesn't change the fact that they are still worthy of love and support. Their loved ones, and indeed, Christ Himself, do not abandon them in their time of need. Instead, they are offered grace, forgiveness, and the promise of a new day.

These examples remind us that we are all human. We will make mistakes. We will have moments where we choose selfishness over service, comfort over compassion. But in those moments, Christ calls us back, reminding us that we are loved, claimed, and called. Jesus is not asking for our perfection; He is asking for our hearts.

And so, we find ourselves here today, on this first Sunday of the month, celebrating the sacrament of holy communion. Just as God’s relentless, redemptive love is always offered to us, so too is God‘s invitation to return to the Table. Here, we are reminded of the grace offered through Christ. Nothing we can do will remove our seat from this Table because nothing we did earned us a place at the Table. It was a gift always freely given, and it will be a gift in the present and future.

This is the relentless love that Christ offers each of us. A love that says, "Here is my heart." A love that forgives our denials, our betrayals, our shortcomings, and invites us to start anew. A love that meets us where we are and invites us into a deeper, more meaningful relationship with our Savior.

As we move forward in our faith journeys, let us remember this love. No matter how far we wander, Jesus' grace finds us. No matter how many times we falter, His love redeems us. And no matter how unworthy we feel, He entrusts us with His work. Let Christ’s guide us in our actions, in our relationships, and in our service to others. For just as we are recipients of Christ's relentless love, so too are we called to extend that love to others.

We are called to love the unlovable, to forgive the unforgivable, and to extend grace where it is least expected. For in doing so, we are mirroring the love of Christ. We are saying, ‘Here’s my heart,’ and offering it to the world.

Peter's story did not end with the conclusion of the gospels. His journey continued, fueled by the relentless love of his Savior. He went on to become a pillar of the early church, spreading the Gospel far and wide. His story serves as a powerful reminder of redemption, of second, third, fourth, fifth chances, and the transformative power of Christ's love.

In the same way, our stories do not end here. Each day offers us a new beginning, a chance to experience and extend the relentless love of Christ. So, my friends, as we depart from this sacred gathering, let us carry with us the lessons of Peter, the redemption offered by Christ, and the promise of relentless love that is ours to claim and to share.

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

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Wandering Heart: Songs of Loudest Praise

 “Wandering Heart: Songs of Loudest Praise” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on March 24, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 42:15.

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Scripture text:
John 12:12-16

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As we gather here on this Palm Sunday, we are reminded of the joyous cries that filled the air on that remarkable day when Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a colt. “Hosanna, Hosanna – blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna!” 

Our scripture text invites us to imagine ourselves in the crowd, witnessing this extraordinary event. During this Season of Lent, most of our imagining and witnessing has come through the eyes of Peter. But as Holy Week begins with the Triumphant Entry as found in the Gospel of John, Peter is no longer front and center, and so we imagine he is with the rest of the disciples when Jesus enters Jerusalem.

The disciples, including Peter, stood there in awe, surrounded by a sea of people shouting hosannas. Can you imagine the excitement? The confusion? They were witnessing something incredible, something that would be etched in their memories forever. The singing, the shouts of praise, the palm branches waving in the air, all of it was subversive, courageous, and contagious.

In that moment, the disciples might have wondered why the crowd was praising Jesus instead of Caesar. This was truly an act of great defiance. And we all know where it will lead: Jesus’ crucifixion. They also might have questioned their own role in this unfolding story. Remember all of the things Jesus has revealed to them up to this point! Things that have often left them with more questions than answers. 

But one thing was clear: they couldn't help but be caught up in the joyous celebration. The disciples, including Peter, were part of something bigger than themselves. They were witnessing a divine moment, a moment that would change the course of history.

As we head into Holy Week, we are invited to imagine where Peter might be in the parade. Look back at all the events that have led up to this point, specifically for Peter. 

Peter has experienced incredible moments of faith and trial. He has witnessed miracles and walked on water. He has professed his faith and stumbled along the way. 

Peter's journey began with an abundant catch, and a charge to drop everything and follow. He left his nets behind and embarked on a life-changing adventure with Jesus. Along the way, he witnessed the power and authority of his teacher. He saw the sick healed, the blind regain their sight, and the dead brought back to life. Peter clung to Jesus for rescue when he himself walked on water. He proclaimed his faith confidently, declaring Jesus to be the Messiah, the Son of the living God.

But Peter also faced moments of doubt and uncertainty. He questioned Jesus, wondering about the implications of his teachings. He even rebuked Jesus when he spoke of his impending suffering and death. Peter's journey was not without its challenges and moments of weakness.

And now, as Peter along with the other disciples stands among the crowds on this Palm Sunday, they are faced with a choice. Will they fully embrace the joy and celebration of this moment, or will theirs doubts and fears creep in once again? How will they respond to the singing and the courageous shouts of praise? 

And if we still are wandering with Peter this Lent, how about us? How will we respond to these shouts of praise?

Seven years ago, on a Palm Sunday, I was ordained as a Minister of Word and Sacrament. Yes, I will tell you about my ordi-versary every single year on Palm Sunday… because it was the most joyous Sunday of my life. Just like the disciples, I was in a crowd that day, amidst a sea of smiling faces and encouraging nods. I vividly remember the warmth I felt from the congregation, their hands raised in blessing, their voices echoing in the space as they said 'Amen' to the promises we made together. I remember looking into their eyes and seeing the joy and hope that mirrored my own. The songs of loudest praise filled my heart as I embarked on this sacred calling.

The same joy and excitement that flooded the city of Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday also filled my church the day of my ordination.

The feelings of Palm Sunday – the joy, the hope, the unity, and the love, serves to remind us of our collective journey as believers. We are all on this journey together, called to carry our crosses, to share in the joy and sorrow, the victory and defeat, the certainty and doubt, much like Peter, our flawed yet faithful disciple.  

Think about the journey our congregation has been on. We have faced difficult times, internal conflicts, and an identity crisis as a community of faith. We too are flawed yet faithful. But this year, we have found clarity and purpose. We are listening to who God is calling us to be, and we are living into that identity. You can feel the joy, optimism, and hope that radiates off our people and our community. You walk through the doors, and you feel like you have come home. This is a joyous place to be; a joyous community to be a part of!  Do you agree?!

As we wave our palms today, let us remember that it is good to celebrate. Like the crowds on that first Palm Sunday, we may face challenges and uncertainties in the days ahead. We sure have the last couple of years, and the truth is, our future will hold more. But in this moment, we can bask in the joy of praising our Lord, who rides into our lives with love, grace, and transformation. 

My friends, today we stand in the joyous shouts of Palm Sunday. We join the crowd in waving our palm branches and lifting our voices in praise. We celebrate the coming of our Lord, just as the crowds did on that day. We embrace the joy and excitement of this moment, knowing that we are part of something extraordinary.

As I said, we will face moments of uncertainty and struggle. We may find ourselves questioning our faith, wondering if we can truly continue on this journey. We might even question whether we feel like we belong to this community or whether we still feel God’s presence in our lives. 

The truth is; on my most difficult and challenging moments of ministry, I try to remember the joy I felt the day of my ordination and find gratitude for this odd yet wondrous calling.

In those moments of hardship and struggle, we must remember the joyous cries of Palm Sunday. We must remember the Hosannas and the songs of loudest praise! We must remember that we are part of something bigger than ourselves. We are part of a divine story – God’s story – a story of redemption and love.

In this story, we are called to be participants, not spectators. Because when Jesus rode into the city of Jerusalem, knowing it would lead to his suffering and death, he did it for us! For us! 

So as we journey through this Holy Week, we can hold on to the joy and celebration of Palm Sunday. We can carry it with us, knowing that even in the face of trials and hardships, there is hope. There is a Savior who walks with us, who understands our doubts and fears, and who offers us grace and forgiveness. This Savior was willing to die for us… and he did. He died for us. And to show just how much he truly loves us, he did the one thing no one else could. He defeated death, rose to new life, and promised the same for us. And that is why we shout with joy, not just on Easter Sunday, but every Sunday. Including this Palm Sunday. 

So, my friends, wave your palms high, sing your hosannas loud, and let your praise be contagious. Let us walk this journey of Holy Week with open hearts and minds, fully embracing the joy, the pain, and the hope it brings. 

And whatever hardships we face beyond Holy Week, as individuals or as a community of faith, we remember our most joyous of moments together and find gratitude for how God is still working through us. 

May our shouts of praise and the waving of palms on this Palm Sunday be a reminder to all of us the joy and hope we have in Jesus Christ. And may we carry that hope with us throughout this Holy Week and beyond.

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

“Hosanna! Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna!”

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Wandering Heart: Praise the Mount

 “Wandering Heart: Praise the Mount” was preached at First Presbyterian Church of Allentown, PA on March 3, 2024. You can hear/watch this sermon here, starting at 40:00.

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Scripture texts:
Psalm 19
Matthew 16:13-20

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Today I invite you to join me on a journey. A journey that requires not your feet, but your heart, your mind, and your spirit. I invite you to close your eyes and step back in time, back into the pages of the Gospel of Matthew.

Picture this. You are walking along the dusty roads of Caesarea Philippi, surrounded by the rustic beauty of the ancient town. The air is warm and dry, filled with the scent of fig trees and the distant murmur of conversation. You are not alone. You are walking with a group of people, but there is one who stands out from the rest. A man of humble grace yet commanding presence. His name is Jesus.

You have left everything behind to follow this man. You've seen miracles happen before your eyes and heard wisdom from his lips that has stirred your soul. And now, as you walk along these roads, Jesus turns to you, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of love and sincerity.

The world around you seems to fade away, as if you two are the only ones standing there. He wants to hear from you, just you. And so he asks, "But who do you say that I am?"

This is not a question for the masses, nor even a smaller group. It is a question for you. Jesus is asking you for your answer. Who do you say that Jesus is?

Let that question echo in your mind, let it resonate in your heart. Who do you say that he is? Not what others say, not what you've heard or read. But your own answer, your own revelation.

As we open our eyes and come back to the present, carry the thought with us throughout the sermon today. Remember, Jesus is asking you, right here, right now, "But who do you say that I am?"

When Jesus asks Peter this same question, we encounter a moment of profound revelation. When Jesus asks Peter, "But who do you say that I am?" Peter responds with a conviction born not of human wisdom, but of divine revelation. Peter boldly declares, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." (Matthew 16:16)

This response, my friends, is not just an answer. It is a declaration of faith, a testament of belief, a rock-solid conviction that is unshakeable and unbreakable. It is the very essence of the faith that we uphold as followers of Christ. Peter boldly declares to Jesus, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."

In our hymn we’ve been exploring this Lenten Season, “Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing” the lyrics at the end of verse 1 into the beginning of verse 2 sing, “Praise the Mount, I’m fixed upon it / Mount of God redeeming love / Here I raise my Ebenezer / Here by thy great help I’m come” 

Today we are praising the mount! We are bolding declaring our more inner truths that God have revealed to us! We raise our Ebenezer for the great things that God has done! 

In the Old Testament, the prophet Samuel sets up a stone to commemorate the Israelites' victory over the Philistines. He names it Ebenezer, saying "Thus far the LORD has helped us." The term Ebenezer, in Hebrew, translates to "Stone of Help". For Samuel, this stone served as a tangible reminder of God's divine intervention and faithfulness.

And here we see, Peter, echoing a similar sentiment. His declaration is his Ebenezer. It is the bedrock of his faith, his personal acknowledgment of the divine identity of Jesus. Despite his future doubts, despite his resistance to change, despite his imminent denials, this moment stands out as a beacon of his faith.

Peter is praising the mount, declaring his faith in who Jesus is. The two establish a symbolic Ebenezer, with Jesus in turn renaming Simon Peter to Peter. Peter’s name now means “rock”, perhaps because of his unshakable and unbreakable declaration. And whether Jesus meant Peter is now the rock on which the church is built or whether Jesus just meant that time and place in the rock, this moment is laid out as a foundation to the Way and the Church that Jesus and his followers will build. 

We know Peter was not perfect. His faith wavered in the face of the storm, he resisted the path that Jesus had to take, he even denied knowing Jesus three times during his crucifixion and death. But, this moment of confession, this moment of revelation, stands as a testament to his faith.

Peter's faith – his conviction in that moment – was so profound, so unshakeable and unbreakable, that Jesus named him to be the rock. This was not because Peter was without fault, but because at his core, he knew who Jesus was.  

Our faith is not defined by our perfections, but by our divine revealed truths. Despite our doubts, despite our shortcomings, it is our faith and our convictions, our personal Ebenezers, that define our relationship with Christ. 

But what exactly is a conviction within the context of faith?

A conviction is a firmly held belief or opinion that we hold in our hearts. It is a divine truth that has been revealed to us by God. It transcends human reasoning and understanding, anchoring us in our faith even amid waves of doubt and uncertainty. You can think of conviction as a rock, unshakeable and unbreakable beliefs because God has made them known to us.  

I would like to share a personal story that beautifully illustrates this concept. This story involves a deeply held conviction of a woman of faith, someone very close to my heart - my mom.

Growing up, my family and I were part of the Lutheran church in North Dakota. However, when we moved to Colorado, the landscape of our community changed. The only Lutheran Church in our new town, a thriving community with a vibrant youth program, belonged to a branch of Lutheranism that did not endorse women as leaders within the church.

Upon moving, we received multiple invitations to join this local Lutheran Church. To many on the outside, it seemed logical for us to join this community because we were, after all, Lutherans. Yet, my mother held a conviction, a divine truth that had been revealed to her through her relationship with Jesus. She firmly believed, with every fiber of her being, that women were also called to be leaders within the church. This conviction was so profound, so unshakeable and unbreakable, that we never stepped foot inside that Lutheran Church.

Instead, we joined the Presbyterian Church in our town. This church, belonging to the Presbyterian Church (USA) branch, mirrored my mother's conviction. And the rest is history, including my ordination as a PC(USA) pastor. I believe, with every fiber of my being, my mom’s rock-solid belief that women were also called to be leaders within the church became the foundation that people like me are also called to be leaders in the church.

Much like Peter, who stood firm in his belief of Jesus as the Messiah, my mother stood firm in her belief that God had revealed to her and my family and many others.

We are all called to reflect on and share the divine truths revealed to us by God. They may not always align with the world's expectations or follow the easiest path, but they are the pillars of our faith, the rocks upon which our spiritual journeys are built.

However, it is crucial to understand that our faith journey is not about having convictions about every single aspect in our faith. Faith is not a puzzle to be solved, where every piece perfectly fits together without any gaps. Rather, faith is more like a tapestry, woven with threads of convictions, questions, doubts, and revelations. It's perfectly normal, and indeed, healthy to have questions and uncertainties.

As we journey together in faith, it is essential to recognize that our rock-solid beliefs, our answers to Jesus's profound question, "But who do you say that I am?", will not always align. Do you think everyone whispered in their hearts the same answer when we imagined together earlier? Of course not! Our tapestries of faith are woven together different.  Each of us, through our unique experiences and relationships with God, will have different responses. That is the beauty of our faith community - our diversity in faith and revealed truths. It is this diversity that enriches our understanding of God, of faith, and of each other.

Yet, amidst this diversity, there are moments when our convictions converge, creating pillars of shared belief that ground us as a community. We might call these core values. In our congregation, we have identified rock-solid convictions that we collectively uphold, revealed to us through our communal journey with God.

The first of these is that we strive to see Christ in each person, practicing expansive welcome and steadfast love. This conviction challenges us to look beyond our differences, to see the image of God in each other, and to extend love and welcome to all.

Our second core value is our commitment to center our life around joyful and grateful worship of God. This revealed truth reminds us that our faith is not a burden but a joy, a reason for celebration and gratitude.

The third is our aspiration to continually grow in our faith. This Ebenezer pushes us to never become complacent in our faith journey, but to always seek to deepen our understanding of God and the living word.

The fourth conviction is our determination to use our gifts to fulfill God's call. We know with certainty that God has blessed each of us with unique talents and abilities, and we must use these gifts in service of God's plan.

Our fifth and final core value is our commitment to serve God by serving our neighbors near and far. This rock-solid belief calls us to look beyond our own needs and to see the needs of others, to extend the hand of service in love and humility.

In our congregation, we have five core values that bind us together. These are our collective convictions, our shared Ebenezers. They are the rocks upon which we build our community of faith, our church.

Life is a winding road filled with doubt and uncertainty, hardships and challenges. We know this as individuals, and we as members and friends of First Presbyterian know this as a community. We must cling to what rock-solid convictions, what has been revealed to us by God. For it is in these beliefs that we find our strength, our courage, and our faith. It is in these revelations that we find our answer to Jesus' question, “But who do you say that I am?”

When life overwhelms us with its choices and possibilities, we must return to the core of our faith. We hold fast to our what God has revealed to us, to the love and grace of God that binds us together as a community.

“Praise the Mount, I’m fixed upon it / Mount of thy redeeming love.” 

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

Amen. 

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