The Waking Dreamer: 2025

Thursday, November 20, 2025

Endurance

Isaiah 65:17-25 Luke 21:5-19[1]

Some of you know that I’m a fan of cycling. I’ve been riding a bike since I was six years old! I’ve been riding seriously for about thirty years. When I started, I was riding with the Fort Worth Bicycling Association. We did a 35-to-45-mile ride every week, and a 60-to-70-mile ride about once a month. Of course, I didn’t start out riding that far. And these days I don’t ride as much or as fast as I did then, but I still enjoy getting out on the bike in the beauty of the world along with the health benefits that putting in miles on the bike provides me. You may know I’m also a fan of watching cycling. I particularly enjoy watching the three “Grand Tours” every Summer. They’re the Tour of Italy in May, the Tour of France in July, and the Tour of Spain in August. Each of them covers about 2000 miles over 21 days, including flat stages for the sprinters and some of the steepest mountains in Europe for the climbers. What blows my mind is that they ride a stage per day, usually over 100 miles, at average speeds that are typically (at least) twice as fast as I could ride, and then they turn around the next day and do it all over again. It’s like running 21 marathons in 3 weeks!

That kind of endurance is impressive on so many levels. I would say, however, that it not only applies to the world of sports. There are some among us who complete the equivalent of a Tour de France every month. Not by how many miles we ride on a bicycle, but by how we handle the circumstances of our lives that are well beyond our control. For example, most of you know that farming is something that takes a long perspective to be able to do year in and year out. But that can be true for any of us in our personal lives. There are challenges that some of us face that are out in public, for all to see. And then there are challenges that some of us face that are inside, and perhaps nobody else knows just how hard it can be just to make it through a day. Endurance is a part of life for many of us.

Our Scripture lessons for today present us with two different perspectives on the hope that St. Paul reminds us results from endurance. He says it this way: our problems and trials “help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation (Rom 5:4-5, NLT). Both of our lessons today present a perspective on the ultimate outcome of our faith. As I’ve mentioned before, there seems to be a lot of confusion about our what our hope is. There are those who speak of the “end of the world” in terms of the majority of humanity “left behind” to face whatever painful tribulations an angry God is going to unleash upon them for their unbelief. Then there are those who speak of the final victory of God’s saving love in a world where all people have the joy of sharing a life, peace, and freedom together. These two views can be found not only in books and sermons, but also in Scripture.

Just a quick reading of our lessons for today sounds like they’re contradicting each other. The one from the prophet Isaiah holds out a beautiful hope for a new heaven and a new earth. Isaiah’s vision is filled with the language of freedom, new life, and hope. In a setting where conquerors continually displaced people, taking their children away from them, throwing them out of their homes and off their own lands, Isaiah envisions a people returned from exile to live in their own land free from fear. But Isaiah’s vision doesn’t just concern Israel; their restoration leads to the restoration of the whole world. Beyond that, this vision of restoration and renewal extends to all creation—even the animal kingdom is to be transformed when God fulfills his promises and liberates the people. Isaiah’s vision is that what God will do at the end of all things will be consistent with what God did at the beginning: create a world full of beauty and love.

On the other hand, in the lesson from Luke’s Gospel Jesus seems to warn his disciples that the end of all things will be gloom and doom. Rather than being spared from the “tribulations” of the end time, it seems that Jesus was saying his followers would be right in the middle of it all. He said they would be arrested and persecuted (Lk. 21:12), that they would be betrayed even by members of their own family (Lk. 21:16), and that they would be “hated by all because of my name” (Lk. 21:17). It’s pretty clear that Jesus envisioned Christians enduring whatever painful hardships and trials the future holds along with everyone else.

Unfortunately, his warnings are easy to misread. For one thing, some of what he says refers to events that would happen in their lifetimes: the Jewish people falling by the sword and Jerusalem being trampled by the Gentiles (Lk. 21:23-24). In fact, about 40 years later the Jewish people fought and lost a war to free themselves from their Roman conquerors. And many people got caught up in the violence—Jewish people and Christian alike. So some of what Jesus has to say talks about what would happen in their lifetimes. But some of what Jesus has to say points to a time in the distant future when all the nations would see “‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory” (Lk. 21:27).

So it’s hard to know if Jesus was warning his disciples about hardships of the near future or those of the end times. I think the answer is that he was talking about both. He knew that the Jewish war would be just as devastating for Christians as it was for the Jewish people, and he used that catastrophic event to warn them about the hardships that they would face until the final turmoil when he would return. Jesus urged his disciples to “be alert,” praying for strength, so that they wouldn’t be caught off guard when the day of his return actually came (Lk. 21:34-36). And he urged them to hold on until the end, promising that the final outcome of the trials and hardships they might go through would not be their destruction but their salvation! In our lesson for today he says it this way: “By your endurance you will gain your souls” (Lk 21:8).

I think the best answer to the question of our final destiny is that it includes both hardships and final victory. I started studying the Bible seriously over 40 years ago when I was a Freshman in college. As a seminary Professor I taught the class on the book of Revelation. So I’ve given the matter a fair amount of thought. The result of all that is that I believe God isn’t some cruel bully just waiting for the chance to torment the vast majority of humankind. When it comes to God’s final purpose for us, I think we have to remember that God showed us who he is by creating a beautiful world for us all to enjoy. And the Scripture promises that one day he will renew that world. We also have to remember that God showed us who he is by coming as one of us to heal our brokenness and our suffering by taking it on himself. And the Scripture promises that one day he will complete that work of restoring all things and all people.

Endurance is something that we all need. You know, I didn’t start out riding all those miles the first time I joined the Fort Worth Bicycling Association. My first ride was pretty much a disaster. I “blew up,” to use one phrase that cyclists use. I ran out of energy halfway into the ride. Fortunately, one of the members of the club was there to shepherd me back home, because I didn’t know the way. But I didn’t go home that day and hang up my bicycle and say, “I’m not doing this ever again.” I kept training on my own. I kept riding with the club. Sometimes I would get dropped, but eventually I was able to finish with a group of riders who were at my level.

I think that’s how it is for us in life. The old saying, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step” is true. I know it may be so commonly repeated that we don’t hear it anymore. But it’s still true. And I think we might add that “You finish a journey of a thousand miles by continuing to take one step after another.” Even and especially on the days when you don’t feel like it. That’s what we call “endurance.” Many of us have won the equivalent of “gold medals” for endurance over the course of our lives. Maybe many times.

Our faith is based on the promises in Scripture. And as we continue holding onto our faith, no matter what we may have to go through in this life, we develop endurance. And as St. Paul reminds us, our endurance gives us hope. But I think you can turn it around and say our hope also helps us endure whatever we may have to go through in this life. Endurance gives us hope, but our hope also helps us to continue to endure. Our hope helps us keep trusting that God’s good and loving plans for the human family will ultimately win out over all the evil that may be present among us now. Our hope gives us the endurance to keep trusting God, to keep following Jesus, and to keep serving others. And we do that by continuing to take the next step. That’s how we complete the journey.

More Than We Have Seen

Luke 20:27-38[1]

I was reminded recently that our “vision” is always limited. I can wholeheartedly echo the sentiment that I’ve heard many times: we typically don’t do well when we try to predict the future. I would say my ability to predict the future is virtually non-existent! Maybe that’s something we could all say. Just when we think we know what’s around the bend, life has a way of proving us wrong. If we averaged our success at predicting the future as a “batting average,” I would say that most of us wouldn’t make it very far in a baseball or softball league! Our vision is always limited.

At least part of the problem for me is that I try to use the past to predict the future. I think I’m not alone in that. When we try to envision the future based on the past, we are necessarily limiting our perspective. Some of the best things that have come into my life have come as a total surprise. Nothing in my past could have made it possible for me to foresee them. You might say the same. Sometimes, using the past to determine our view of the future leads to a pessimistic outlook. It’s the viewpoint that says with Benjamin Franklin that “in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.” That kind of attitude is common, but it’s a pretty hopeless view of life. Since everyone dies, that way of looking at things gives death has the final word on everything. And if death has the final word, then we’re all trapped in the vicious circles of selfishness, hatred, poverty, violence, injustice, and despair that we can see all around us. That’s not an approach to life that gives us much enthusiasm for living today, let alone looking forward to tomorrow.

In our Gospel lesson for today, Jesus was responding in part to this kind of pessimism about life. He had been answering questions from various groups of Jewish leaders, each one intent on embarrassing him in front of the people. One question came from the Sadducees. They were the ruling priests who controlled the Temple. They were also the ones who held most of the wealth and power in their society. And as Luke tells us, the Sadducees didn’t believe in any “resurrection.” They lived in a closed system, and they weren’t open to the idea that there could be any more to life than what they had already seen. The Sadducees came to Jesus and asked him about the practice of a man marrying his brother’s widow. Moses had told them to do this so that the first child would be the descendant of the dead brother, to ensure that his name would continue to live on among the people. Their question to Jesus was about seven brothers who in turn married the same woman. They asked him, “In the resurrection … whose wife will the woman be?” (Lk. 20:33). I don’t think they were seriously looking for an answer. They didn’t believe in any “resurrection.” They were just trying to make the idea of a “resurrection” look ridiculous. And Jesus with it.

But Jesus “corrected” them. In another Gospel, he tells them “You understand neither the Scriptures nor the power of God” (Mt 22:29, NASB)! He said this to the people who were in charge of the Temple! Jesus corrected them by recalling the time when Moses met God at the burning bush. This was foundational for the Jewish faith. It was the episode when God revealed his “name” as “I am who I am.” There, God spoke of himself as “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (Exod. 3:6). When Moses had this encounter, the patriarchs had been dead for centuries. Jesus drew the inference that this proves that the dead are raised, for he said that God is “God not of the dead, but of the living” (Lk. 20:38). More than that, throughout the Bible, God is known as the “living God.” The prophets described God as the one who “lives” in contrast to the idols who were “dead” statues of wood and stone. But if God is the “living God,” and if God’s very being is defined by life, then it makes no sense to view the patriarchs, or anyone else, as truly dead. As Jesus put it, “to him all of them are alive.” In other words, God’s very nature as the “living” God challenged their pessimism.

I think one of the most important points Jesus was trying to make here is that you cannot limit God’s work in the future by what we have seen in the past. If God is the God of life, that means that our future is not one that’s defined by death, but rather by life. God’s work in the world is based on promises that point toward a future that is full of hope precisely because it’s based on God’s life. Promises like “I will wipe away every tear,” and “they will beat their swords into ploughshares,” and “He upholds the cause of the oppressed and gives food to the hungry,” and “I am making everything new.” Our Psalm lesson for today reminds us that God always keeps his promises. The Christian faith is at heart the hope that God has begun to do just that through Jesus Christ. Our faith insists that from God’s perspective, the final word that defines everything and everyone is not death, but life.

I think that how we choose to look at all of this makes a great difference in our the work we do together as a congregation. For example, in the Reformed tradition we believe that stewardship is not just about money. It’s essentially a stance of faith in the “God of the living.” Because we believe in the life that God is bringing into this world through Jesus Christ, we practice stewardship by committing all we know ourselves to be to all we know Jesus Christ to be. I had a professor once define “conversion” that way. I think the whole Christian life is like that: committing all we know ourselves to be to all we know Jesus Christ to be. And as we grow in our understanding of who we are and who Jesus is, we’re able to see our lives more and more as a gift from God to be invested for the sake of the Kingdom.

On the other hand, if we choose to live within a closed system and assume that there’s only so much to go around, we’re probably not going to be willing to risk much when it comes to investing our lives for the sake of the kingdom of God. But if we can look at things from the perspective of God’s future, a future in which the final word is life, then perhaps maybe we can step out in faith. If we can see the future as essentially open to all that God is doing in and through us, we have a whole different motivation for practicing our faith, including practicing our stewardship. In that kind of future, our “labor in the Lord” is “not in vain” but rather makes an important contribution toward advancing God’s purposes in our community and our world. I think that puts our stewardship, our faith commitment, and everything we do, in a whole different light.

We all have the choice: we can live as if the past overrules any hope for the future, and death ultimately makes life “useless.” There have always been people who have taken this point of view, living without hope, clinging desperately to their lives out of fear. If we choose to assume that our best is back there in the past somewhere—which means it’s gone—I doubt that we’re going to invest much of anything for God’s Kingdom. But if we choose to live based on the faith that the “God of life” is at work among us and through us to make everything new, then maybe we can have the courage to stake our lives on God’s promises. It’s a risk, because there’s a lot about life that seems to contradict those promises. But when we embrace God’s vision for the future, perhaps we’ll begin to realize that God’s vision very likely includes much more than we have seen. In fact, I would say that God’s vision is such that we really have no idea what God can or cannot do in our lives, in this congregation, and in this community!

The next step is to put our faith into practice every day by praying without ceasing, by giving back what we’ve been given, by helping those in need, by inviting others to join us, by promoting a sense of community among us, by studying the Bible together, and by joining together for worship on the Lord’s Day. When we invest our lives for the sake of the kingdom of God, it’s a big vision we’re taking on. When we open ourselves to God’s vision, we can begin to grasp the full weight of the hope that God has things in store for us that we wouldn’t believe if we knew them in advance! When we base our lives on this vision for the future, we humbly recognize that we can’t do it alone. We need the living God who is the source of everything we have to send us what we need to do the work. More than that, we need God himself working in and through us, remembering that God’s last word is not death but life!

Wednesday, November 19, 2025

Pleased With Ourselves?

Luke 18:9-14[1]

As you may recall, I’ve spoken occasionally this year about some of the criticisms of religion. Especially those people who avoid church use to justify that choice. And you may recall that I’ve mentioned that Luke’s Gospel, which is the foundation for the Lectionary readings this year, lends itself to this topic. Like the other Gospel writers, Luke recounts the conflicts Jesus had with the Jewish religious leaders. Because of this, many have concluded that the Jewish leaders of that day were just bad people. Beyond that, some throughout history have used these passages to conclude that all Jewish people are corrupt. But those who do so read into the Gospels something that’s not there. To be sure, Jesus exposed the flaws in the Jewish religious leaders’ traditions and the way they selectively observed them. And they attacked him for it. Some of them even engineered his death. But that was more about a grasping for power that is a human trait than anything inherent to Jewish people.

In fact, if you read the Gospels thoughtfully, you have to recall that they were not only written to record Jesus’ life and teachings, but also to instruct early Christian churches about the practice of their faith. What most Gospel scholars like myself conclude from this is that the attention paid to the flaws of the Jewish religious leaders was, at least in part, meant to serve as a warning and even a rebuke to Christian leaders. It’s likely that Luke, like the other Gospel writers, already saw the same behaviors emerging in early Christian churches. They called attention to Jesus’ conflicts with the Jewish religious leaders of his day in order to correct the missteps of the Christian religious leaders of their day.

I think what we have to acknowledge is that all the criticisms and shortfalls of religion that we’ve been discussing don’t just apply to certain groups of (other) people. That would be much too convenient for all of us. No, the truth of the matter is that all of the flaws in religion we’ve addressed are pitfalls we all can fall into. “Religion,” as some theologians like Karl Barth have often pointed out, is a human endeavor. Faith, on the other hand, can be a spiritual matter, something that God brings about in and through us. But the ways we express our faith are all inherently human. And because we are all flawed people, the pitfalls of religion apply to us all.

I wanted to say all of this as part of my sermon today because it deals with a topic that can potentially be offensive. And I think it’s important from the outset to recognize that all the pitfalls of religion can apply to all of us. None of us are immune. I would say that one of the reasons why some people avoid church is because they have encountered Christians who are really quite pleased with themselves. Often you see it in a kind of “humble bragging” about one’s faith and how thankful a person is for the “perfect” life that God has “blessed” them with. It can come across as a kind of smugly condescending look, a pity-filled smirk that basically communicates to those “outside” the church that it’s just too bad they haven’t made all the right choices (like we have). At times, it can come across as outright arrogance. Like when someone asks you, “if you died tonight, do you know for sure you would go to heaven?” The very question assumes that they do! And it comes across as if they’re assuming the person to whom they ask the question doesn’t!

Our Gospel lesson for today presents us with two men. One man, a Pharisee, would have been a respected member of the community. He was respected because of his devotion to studying and obeying God’s word in all aspects of their lives. Now, in and of itself, that’s what we’re all called to do. But the problem was that this particular man was very satisfied with himself. I like the way Gene Peterson puts it in The Message: Jesus told this parable about some who were “pleased with themselves over their moral performance” (Lk. 18:9). Judging from his prayer, this fellow was very pleased with himself. It’s hard not to think that he was bragging about himself to God![2] But perhaps more importantly, his spiritual arrogance translated into looking down on the other man who had come to pray as inferior. I would say that’s a clue that there’s something wrong with his religion. Again, we’re not talking about a uniquely Jewish problem. It’s a problem we all can have with our religion.

The other man in the Gospel lesson is the exact opposite. In fact, as a tax collector, he would have been despised by more than just the Pharisee. He would have been viewed as a traitor to his people and a thief. That’s because of the way taxes were collected in that day and time. It was an inherently corrupt system. Whoever was in control gave the right to collect taxes to the highest bidder. As long as the tax collector paid off his “bid,” he could keep anything else he could extract from people. And so he would hire a whole team of people who would work under him, each collecting a portion of the taxes. And as long as they paid their quota, each of them could keep whatever they could get. and it’s not hard to imagine why people despised tax collectors in that day.

Two very different men came to the temple to pray. The one had become a respected leader of his community by following the letter of the law. The other had thrown virtue and decency to the wind, and was basically robbing his own people, taking the fast-track toward getting rich. But the point of the parable was that the first man was quite convinced that his life was right and righteous and even pleasing to God. The other man came to the temple not satisfied, or pleased, but broken.

And while the people to whom Jesus told this story would have expected him to say what a good man the Pharisee was and what a rotten scoundrel the tax collector was, he surprised them. In fact, he shocked the living daylights out of them. Speaking about the tax collector, he said, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other” (Lk 18:14). That was the exact opposite of what they expected. But he was pointing them to something important: when we are “pleased” with ourselves and our religion, it raises a huge red flag regarding the genuineness of our faith. Biblical faith, the kind of faith that actually makes a difference in our lives, comes from experiencing the healing power of God’s mercy in response to our brokenness. And when we experience God’s mercy that way, our faith will look more like the humility of the tax collector than the smugness of the Pharisee.

Again, it’s too easy for us to walk away from a parable like this and think that those silly Pharisees really missed the point of it all. But the truth is that one man’s self-satisfied arrogance in this story is there to remind us all that we can fall into the same temptation. There was a time when I fell into this temptation. Everything in my life was going just the way I hoped it would. My life was going “according to plan.” A few years later, it all came crashing down, and it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.

There is room in our faith for genuine satisfaction that comes from looking back over our lives and recognizing how far we’ve come. But for it to be truly genuine, it will always be mixed with generous helpings of humility and gratitude. That’s why religious smugness is so offensive. We might as well be wearing a neon sign that says, “you need God, but I’m doing just fine!” But the truth is that we all need God as much as anybody else. The truth is that at the end of the day none of us are really “pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps.” We all are who we are only by the grace and mercy of God. And anyone who truly knows that will never be “pleased” with themselves, in the smug way that first man in the parable was. Rather, like the other man we will humbly and gratefully acknowledge that God’s mercy is a gift beyond what we could ever deserve.

[2] In fact, although many English Bibles translate the passage to say that he prayed “standing by himself,” and many others say that he prayed “with himself,” there are several that render it with a significant difference: he “stood and prayed about himself” (Lk 18:11, CEB, NET, NASB).There is actually a textual variant in the Greek New Testament that alters the word order to emphasize the latter interpretation. Cf. Bruce Metzger, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, 143. J. A. Fitzmyer, Luke X-XXIV, 1186, differs from the majority view and supports the variant because it has some of the most important early witnesses to the text of the New Testament in support.

Is Anyone There?

Psalm 121; Luke 18:1-8[1]

There is a question that has haunted the human family since the beginning. If you look at the religious beliefs and practices through the ages, and if you “read between the lines,” I think you’ll find that question. From ancient times we have wondered whether there is a God, and whether that God cares about us at all. I think this question was even at the heart of the earliest religions, when people worshipped many “gods.” The stories they told themselves about their “gods” betray a fundamental anxiety about our place in the world. The “gods” of ancient mythologies aren’t even good people, let alone “gods”! And underneath it all lies the question whether whatever “higher power” there may “out there” be is able to help us at all, and whether that power cares enough about us to do so.

When science and the church taught that the earth was at the very center of the universe, I think it may have been easier to believe in a God who cares for us. Our relative importance in the whole scheme of things was huge, and we felt more confident about our faith in God. But even in those times, there were catastrophes and tragedies that made people ask that question whether God can really do anything to help us, and whether God cares enough to do so. In more recent days, with our scientific perspective on how small the earth is compared to the rest of universe, I think that question has become even more pressing. At least for some people. Given the incomprehensible vastness of the universe, we can easily question whether there is a God, and whether any God there might be could or would pay much attention to us.

Even in a Christian context, this anxiety has been expressed through a centuries-old question: If God is both loving and all-powerful, how can there be evil in the world? The presence of tragedy in our lives suggests that God loves us but he’s not powerful enough to stop these things from happening. Or it suggests that God is powerful enough to stop them, but since he doesn’t he must not be loving. Although many have tried to address this question, I don’t think any of the “answers” really help. Most of them offer some sort of rational explanation. But that doesn’t really do much for the feeling of anxiety that the traumas and tragedies that life can bring. The only answer to the heartbreaks of life is to find a way to trust that God does indeed have the power to help us and does indeed care enough about us to do so.

Our Psalm for today addresses this question. The Psalmsinger looks to the mountains to try to figure out whether there is anyone there to help. The reason for looking to the mountains is because in ancient times people believed that the “gods” lived in the high places of the world. So when the Psalmsinger looks to the mountains and asks himself where he can find help, he’s looking for God. In this case, looking to the mountains reminds the Psalmsinger that “My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth!” (Ps 121:2, NLT). I think at least a part of the meaning here is that God is bigger than any mountain, because God created all the heavens and the earth. The Psalmsinger’s hopes aren’t confined to a so-called a “deity” that lives on a particular mountain. His hope and his help come from the God who made all the heavens and the earth, the whole cosmos and everything in it!

I think there are a couple of linked ideas here that can help us. As powerful as a mountain can appear, God’s power is far greater. I think many of us experience mountains as a display not only of grandeur but also of power. But God’s power is far greater, because God is the creator of all the heavens and the earth. That’s one of the most basic ideas of the Bible. It’s where Genesis begins: God created all the heavens and the earth. And that means whatever you can find in creation or in the whole cosmos that impresses you with its beauty, its grandeur, or its display of power, God’s power is greater. The Psalmsinger reminds himself and us that our faith that the God who created all the heavens and the earth is the God who is our help and our hope means that he most certainly does have the power to help us!

But the other part of the question concerns whether God cares enough to use that power to help us. That’s at least part of the lesson from our Gospel reading for today. In it, Jesus tells a parable about a woman who was a widow, very likely in danger of losing her home because she was at the mercy of a corrupt judge, who had no interest in protecting her. Jesus’s parable tells us that this man doesn’t care about God, and he doesn’t care about people. It seems clear that the only reason he held his position was to enrich himself. But this is no ordinary widow. She persisted relentlessly in demanding that this judge grant her what was rightfully hers, and she kept doing so until she annoyed him! That’s why the traditional title for this passage is “The parable of the importunate widow.” That’s what “importunate” means: demanding what’s rightfully yours and doing until you annoy somebody. That’s what she did. And this corrupt judge confessed, “Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming” (Lk. 18:4-5)!

One point of this parable is the contrast between the unjust judge and the God whom Jesus demonstrates as gracious, loving, and caring. If a godless, inhumane judge will finally give in to a powerless widow’s unceasing requests for justice, how much more will our merciful and loving God “grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night” (Lk 18:7). And I think the answer is that he will most certainly do so! The promise of God’s justice throughout the Bible is that God will make things right, ultimately if not immediately. But perhaps that’s precisely where the problem lies. We have lots of affirmations in the Bible that God cares about us and will take care of us. We have promises that God will set things right. But life doesn’t always confirm those promises. Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. Sometimes bad people do bad things to good people. And when that happens and we cry out to God for help, there are times when when all we can hear is silence. And that experience can leave us wondering whether there’s anyone there. That’s when we come back to the age-old question whether there is a God, and whether that God cares at all about us.

Unfortunately, I’m afraid that at times like those, our perspective can get quite narrow. All we can see is the hardship or tragedy or the loss we’re dealing with. And all we can ask is, “Why?” or “How long?”, stuck in our pain and our fears. But in this parable, I think Jesus wants to help us focus our attention elsewhere. He wants to remind us that we believe in a God who is a loving Father who knows what we need, who wants what is best for us, and who is working constantly for our good. And he does all of this despite our inability to understand how our lives are unfolding. There are simply some questions we may never be able to answer. That’s one of the lessons faith teaches us. It’s okay to ask those questions. We just have understand we may never get an answer.

Sometimes people asked Jesus those kinds of questions. In response, Jesus pointed them to the God whose care we can trust in all the circumstances of our lives. Regardless of what we may have to go through here and now, the promise remains: God has all the power he needs to help us, and because he cares for us he will most definitely do so, if not immediately, then ultimately. We see that promise confirmed most clearly in Jesus. Through his life and his example, through his death and resurrection, we learn that God’s love is stronger than anything. The mountains do indeed remind us that God has the power to help us, but the cross and resurrection show us that he cares enough to use that power to help us. When we wonder whether there’s anyone there, we can remember God’s love never gives up, and never will until God accomplishes all the good he has planned for us all, for the whole human family, and for all creation.

Wednesday, November 12, 2025

Always Faithful

2 Timothy 2:1-16[1]

One of the challenges of living in these days of turmoil and strife is that it can leave you wondering on whom you can depend. The polarization we are all feeling divides churches, friends, families, and even marriages. It can make you uncertain about whom you can trust, or even with whom you can even discuss your concerns. That’s on top of the normal challenges we have with our relationships and our commitments. Even in the best of times, employees may find their years of loyalty to their companies rewarded with a pink slip. Friends have disagreements that turn into ruptures that turn into years of estrangement. Couples that pledge “til death do us part” find themselves going their separate ways. Relationships are always complicated, and because we’re human it’s always difficult to know on whom you can depend. It’s even more so in these trying times.

I would say that all of this is particularly challenging when you add betrayal to the mix. I don’t know about you, but I personally find betrayal something most difficult to forgive. I’ve learned over the years to forgive a lot. But forgiving a perceived betrayal of trust can be difficult. Most of us have some experience with this unfortunate part of human life. The truth of the matter is that people simply let us down sometimes. They very likely mean well, but when push comes to shove, they can disappoint us in the most disheartening of ways. Of course, since we’re “people” too, that applies to us as well. Recognizing that about myself helps me to forgive others. And as we all know, forgiving someone is something we do as much for ourselves as we do for one who we think has wronged us. But betrayal remains a challenge. It can take a long time, maybe years, maybe even decades, to forgive a perceived betrayal of trust. Truth be told, some of us never get there.

If you pay close attention to the story of the people who claim to trust and obey God, you find that we have betrayed God’s trust repeatedly. That’s the theme of the history books in the Bible: there is a cycle of betrayal, the subjugation of the people by a hostile enemy, their repentance and restoration, followed by further betrayal. It’s one of the major plots in the story of the people of Israel in that part of the Hebrew Bible. They continually betrayed God’s trust, and though they suffered consequences for it, he restored them every time. I think it’s important to recognize that even when they may have had to experience the consequences of their actions, in the end God always restored them. In fact, I would say that God was supporting them with his faithful love even and especially in the midst of those consequences. They may have abandoned God, but God never abandoned them. The truly remarkable feature of this story is the way that God remains true to himself by remaining faithful to love and care for his people, throughout all time and change, and regardless of our failures.

Our lesson from 2 Timothy for today addresses this issue in something of a “backhanded” way. There we find an interesting “litany.” It is one of the “sure” or “faithful” sayings that are found throughout 1 and 2 Timothy. The first part is fairly clear: “If we have died with him, we will also live with him; if we endure, we will also reign with him” (2 Tim. 2:11-12). This is a theme that St. Paul was fond of: our inclusion in the body of Christ means that we share in his death and resurrection. The purpose of this, as he says elsewhere, is “so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life” (Rom. 6:4). That part is fairly clear.

It’s the second part of the litany that’s troubling: “if we deny him, he will also deny us; if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself” (2 Tim. 2:13). On the surface, that doesn’t sound like good news. In fact, it sounds positively menacing. We’re used to hearing about the good news of salvation by God’s grace alone as a gift of his unconditional love. But this seems to introduce some conditions for actually achieving salvation. That impression is only reinforced by remembering that Jesus himself said, “Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels” (Mk. 8:38).

It sounds like we’re back to having to earn God’s love and trying to do enough good to deserve salvation! There is, of course, another way of looking at this strange litany. If we look at it from the perspective of the way God has dealt with people for generations, we could see it as a promise. From that point of view, it could mean that even when we are at times “faithless” and betray God’s trust, he remains faithful to us. Even when we go astray, even when that leads to consequences in the short run, through it all God always continues to love us and offer us grace and mercy. That would seem to make more sense in the light of the consistent witness of the Scriptures. The most fundamental affirmation of the Bible is that God remains faithful to us, no matter what. Always has been and always will be.

But there’s still that part about denying and being denied. Would Jesus really deny us if we happened to not perfectly live up to our commitment to follow him and to bear witness to him? Does God really reject us if we have times in our lives when we fall short and are “faithless”? That seems to be the implication here. And many in the history of the church have understood it that way: they think it means that if we fall short or lose heart, God will remain true to himself by rejecting us! In fact, throughout history, when Christians have faced persecution, church leaders have debated whether someone could be forgiven for denying their faith in Jesus in the face of imminent death. Some thought you could be forgiven once, but no more. Many have taken a harder stance and said even once is too much![2]

Again, I would argue that interpretation doesn’t do justice to the way God actually deals with his fallible and wayward people in Scripture. Whatever “denying” and being “denied” means in this context, it has to take into account the fact that Peter specifically “denied” Jesus three times, and yet he was not “denied” but restored! Perhaps that’s the point—even if we fall short the way Peter did, God’s faithfulness provides a way back for us, ultimately and finally, if not immediately as in Peter’s case. Whatever the “denying” that leads to being “denied” means, it has to be something more than just human weakness. It must be a final and definitive rejection of God’s grace and mercy and love, not simply a failure of nerve.[3] I think that applies to Jesus’ warning as well as our lesson from 2 Timothy.

The Bible bears witness time and again to the promise that, even if we are faithless, God remains faithful to his love, mercy, and grace toward us, which are unconditional, unqualified, unlimited, and irrevocable.[4] In light of our experience with betrayal, it may be hard for us to wrap our heads around this promise. How can God respond to our betraying him with such love, mercy, and grace? We don’t readily respond to betrayal by offering even forgiveness, let alone unconditional love. But as the Scriptures remind us, our way is not God’s way. God’s way is to send his son to die for those who are at odds with him, effecting reconciliation once and for all. God’s way is to remain faithful to us, even when we can at times fall short. God’s way is to restore us when we stumble and fall. When we wonder on whom we can depend in these trying times, I would say we can always depend on God, because throughout time and change, throughout all of history, God has demonstrated that he is always faithful to us!

[2] See, notably, John Calvin, Commentary on the Epistles to Timothy, Titus, and Philemon, 218-19: “he threatens that they who, through the dread of persecution, leave off the confession of his name, have no part or lot with Christ. … Hence it is evident, that all who deny Christ are disowned by him.”

[3] Cf. J. D. G. Dunn, “The First and Second Letters to Timothy and the Letter to Titus,” New Interpreter’s Bible XI:844.

[4] See Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 2.1:510, where he describes “God’s action in relation to the apostasy of the creature” as one of grace and reconciliation, and in this God is supremely true to himself and his purposes.

Saturday, October 11, 2025

Powerless?

2 Timothy 1:1-14[1]

We are living in times that can leave us feeling powerless over the forces at work around us, and helpless to do anything about it. I don’t usually do this, but I can’t not say something about recent events. At least some American citizens have at times been detained without a warrant simply because of the color of their skin, or the language they speak, or the part of town in which they live.[2] They have had their constitutional rights stripped from them by federal agents. And when they can do that to anyone, they can to it to anyone—literally! Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. said it far more eloquently: “injustice anywhere threatens justice everywhere.” When men with guns can strip anyone of their civil rights, rights guaranteed by the constitution, they can literally do that to every one of us.

It can leave us feeling powerless and helpless. And when we feel powerless and helpless, we tend to convert it into something negative. Fear that retreats from the public square, that refrains from speaking out or taking action because of potential consequences. Like losing your job over your opinion about an issue or a particular player in the cultural debate. We also tend to convert feelings of powerlessness and helplessness to anger. But as the Scripture teaches us, “If you are angry, you cannot do any of the good things God wants done” (James 1:20, CEV). In fact, when we’re motivated by anger, we’re more likely to do harm than good. Of course, there are different kinds of anger, but in my experience, anger has a way of taking over everything else, until we can’t really see a situation for what it is.

Our Scripture reading from Timothy addresses early Christians who felt powerless and helpless. As I’ve mentioned before, they lived in a world where the Roman empire had the first word, the last word, and all the words in between. Roman officials could pretty much get away with whatever they wanted because they had legions of armed troops at their disposal. That’s what empires do when anyone objects: they respond with force. Like Pontius Pilate did when the Jewish people objected to his offensive actions. He sent armed soldiers to quell the crowds of protesters. When faced with that kind of brutality, it’s no wonder that people felt powerless and helpless.

Unfortunately, part of what happens when we’re in that kind of situation is that we go into a “defensive” mode. When we go into this “defensive” mode, one thing we do is pull back from engaging at all with people who are “other.” People who look different from us. People who speak a different language. People who live in different places. People whom we perceive to be “different” or “other.” We retreat to the safety of our “own” group. And we have certain “litmus tests” to be able to make sure someone really is a part of our group. Whether it’s a list of beliefs, or certain stances on social issues, or sheer tribalism (where we trust only those of our own race, creed, and nation), this kind of stance makes it hard to live out the gospel in the world at large.

That was the situation to which 2 Timothy was addressed. Timothy and the believers in his care were discouraged. They found themselves in a setting where the challenge of living the Christian life was getting them down. As a result, they were retreating into a mode of “guarding” themselves, of “avoiding” those who were perceived to be a threat, and of drawing lines to keep out those who were on the “outside.” It’s hard to understand why they turned in on themselves this way, but when you think about our experiences, maybe not so much. When you read 2 Timothy, it would seem that at least part of the underlying problem was that they were struggling with feeling ashamed of the gospel (2 Tim. 1:8).

This may seem strange to us. The early Christians weren’t supposed to feel ashamed of the gospel! Apparently Timothy and the band of struggling believers he was serving were feeling ashamed because they were losing out to competitors preaching a different “gospel.” We don’t know all that these “impostors” stood for, but what we do know is that they wormed their way into congregations and then milked the people for money. It would seem Timothy and his flock felt ashamed of the gospel because these “impostors” were much more successful at gaining converts, while they were struggling to survive. As a result, they had gone into a kind of “defensive” mode.

Unfortunately, there are aspects of 2 Timothy that seem to positively encourage this retreat into a “defensive” mode. The Scripture actually uses language that I would say only reinforced their natural inclination to withdraw from perceived threats. It advises believers to “guard” themselves, to “avoid” and “shun” others, to mark off those who are not a part of the “chosen,” and to effectively “consign” them to their fate. It can be hard for us to deal with a situation like this. We’re used to looking to the Bible for direction. But here the humanity of the biblical authors may get in the way of that. The problem is that this approach is reactive, not proactive. It doesn’t sound very much like Jesus’ challenge to courageous discipleship!

But there are other ideas here that are more helpful. Timothy is encouraged to “rekindle the gift of God” (2 Tim. 1:6). The image here is of fanning the embers of a fire that is no longer burning. There is still heat in the coals, but they have to be coaxed into actively burning again. In the face of discouragement, Timothy was challenged to “tend the fire” of his calling and his gifts. I think at least a part of that meant for him to remind himself who it was who called and gifted him in the first place. And that’s true for all of us: God has called us and gifted us all!

As we read together earlier, Timothy is also reminded that “God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and [sound judgment].” (2 Tim. 1:7, NLT). This is one of those passages where I think the King James translators did a better job than many modern translators: the spirit God has given us is one of “power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” In other words, the charge to Timothy was to recognize that it was the Spirit of God who gave him the power and love and wisdom he needed to face the challenges that came his way. He didn’t face these hardships alone, but rather the way for him to fulfill his life and his service was “with the strength God gives you” (2 Tim. 1:8, NLT).

I think that this advice to Timothy can help all of us. The Bible tells us that every one of us has been given a “gift of God” with which to serve others. That means we do not fulfill the life of discipleship to Christ in our own strength alone. Rather, central to the idea that God has chosen us as his beloved children is the promise that we have all received the Spirit of God, who gives us more than enough power and more than enough love and more than enough good sense to be able to follow the path of faith no matter what we may face along the way.

One way to get through the challenges of the times we’re experiencing is to remember the wisdom of the Scriptures. It’s a wisdom many of us have relied on our whole lives. It’s the wisdom that reminds us that we cannot “do any of the good things God wants done” (James 1:20, CEV) through our anger. In fact, we may do more harm than good. It’s also the wisdom that reminds us that despite what the empires of this world may claim, God is the one who truly has the first word, the last word, and all the words in between. And as our Psalm lesson for today reminds us, the evil that powerful people do to the vulnerable among us will be their undoing (Ps 37:1-10). That principle is found throughout the Bible. But perhaps one of the most important pieces of wisdom to remember when we feel powerless and helpless is the lesson that St. Paul learned: “when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor 12:10, NLT). We learn that lesson as a direct result of following as our Savior and Lord the one who gave his life in the weakness and humiliation of the cross. Even that seemingly most powerless act, was not truly powerless at all. Rather through the power of God’s love, it changed the world, and it continues to change the world to this day. As we find ourselves living in challenging times, times that can leave us feeling powerless and helpless, perhaps afraid and angry, may God fill us with his Spirit of power, and love, and wisdom. And may we respond in ways that are helpful, in ways that are consistent with the gospel, in ways that are true to our commitment to following Christ.

[2] On this matter, see: “Lawsuit filed against immigration authorities after U.S. citizen’s arrests in raids” Associated Press, 1 Oct 2025; accessed at https://apnews.com/article/trump-immigration-crackdown-lawsuit-courts-citizens-latino-alabama-a6bfae9528e03243ec08e9ade182da2f ; “Inside ICE’s Aggressive Approach to Arresting Migrants,” The Journal Podcast 10 June 2025, accessed at https://www.wsj.com/podcasts/the-journal/inside-ices-aggressive-approach-to-arresting-migrants/ ; “ICE Runs Risk of Catching More U.S. Citizens in Deportation Push” The Wall Street Journal 26 Apr 2025; accessed at https://www.wsj.com/podcasts/the-journal/inside-ices-aggressive-approach-to-arresting-migrants/73d06674-bba3-487b-91e7-db8c51628ebb? “As More Citizens are swept up in immigration raids, Democrats demand answers,” Los Angeles Times, 8 Aug 2025; accessed at: https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2025-08-08/how-many-citizens-have-been-arrested-in-immigration-crackdown ; “ICE agents allegedly fill out warrants after an arrest; U.S. citizen among those detained,” WBEZ Chicago, 17 Mar 2025, accessed at https://www.wbez.org/reset-with-sasha-ann-simons/2025/03/17/ice-agents-allegedly-making-arrests-without-warrants .

Wednesday, September 24, 2025

Cheating?

1 Timothy 2:1-7[1]

We have a saying, “Cheaters never prosper.” Unfortunately, there are a lot of people in this world who “cheat” in some way or another and get away with it. That doesn’t sit well with most of us. We don’t like it when someone takes unfair advantage and gets away with it. Of course, except when we do it. And, of course, when we do it, it’s not “cheating” or “taking unfair advantage.” It’s “being smart.” Or “maximizing our opportunities.” Or “getting ahead.” We don’t like “cheaters,” but what most of us tend to overlook is the fact that we all have advantages that we didn’t necessarily work for. They were handed to us at birth. And in this world, our advantages represent a kind of “cheat” to those who don’t have them.

We tend to look at religion the same way. We believe that “heaven” is reserved for those who, like us, do things the “right” way. And those who fail to live up to the standards we have worked hard all our lives to maintain rightfully deserve to be denied access to “heaven” and its blessings. I think we have a hard time grasping the idea of a God who loves all people with no strings attached.[2] It seems that in our experience with life, there are always strings attached. Or expectations we have to live up to. The idea that God simply loves us, and that there’s nothing we can do to change that love, is one that just doesn’t compute with many of us. In fact, we may think of it as “cheating” that some people who don’t live up to our standards get to enjoy the same love that we do. The idea that God loves us all unconditionally and irrevocably just doesn’t seem quite right, or perhaps even quite fair.

Despite all that, That God loves us all is precisely the message of our Scripture lesson for today from First Timothy. Simply put, “God our Savior … desires everyone to be saved” (1 Tim. 2:3-4). And to that end, “Christ Jesus … gave himself a ransom for all” (1 Tim. 2:5-6). The language is clearly all-inclusive, embracing “everyone.” That may come as a surprise to you, because it’s not the typical way in which we understand God’s “plan of salvation.” We tend to think of salvation not as a gift of God’s grace, but as a transaction. Those of us who do the right things, like believing in Jesus, going to church, and living the right kind of life, receive salvation as a reward for our efforts. Those who don’t get what they “deserve”

This view of salvation has been around for a long time. From the earliest days of the church, the accepted view was that “outside the church there is no salvation.” This makes the statement from our Scripture lesson problematic, to say the least. When you take that point of view, it’s hard to believe that God “desires everyone to be saved.” And so we have come up with ways to “adjust” this bold declaration to make it more palatable. Some will say “God desires everyone to be saved,” but “everyone” equals all kinds of people, not all people. Others say “God desires everyone to be saved,” but “everyone” equals all those whom God has chosen for salvation, not all people. The conclusion seems unavoidable that what they are really saying is that “God does not desire everyone to be saved”![3]

I think there are a variety of reasons why we take this verse of Scripture and twist it around to mean the opposite of what it says. For one thing, we want life to be fair. If you’re like me, and you’ve been in church all your life, it can seem unfair that God offers salvation to everyone without conditions. I’ve had a long-standing member of a Presbyterian church ask the question, “If God is going to save everyone, then why do we go to church?” Of course, this betrays the assumption that we can somehow earn God’s love by attending church. In reality, that kind of thinking has it all backwards. We don’t go to church in order to earn God’s love. We go to church because we’ve encountered the incredible love God gives all of us, and in response we want to live our lives by loving God in every way we can.

I think another reason for this kind of thinking is that we think that people ought to get what they deserve. It can seem like “cheating” for someone who has lived however they pleased to get to experience God’s salvation just the same as those who have tried to practice kindness and justice. I also had a church member tell me “There are some people I want to go to hell!” Again, this misses the point of the gospel. The gift of salvation isn’t something we can somehow do enough good to “deserve.” The message of Scripture is that none of us can ever “deserve” God’s love. That’s why it’s a gift—for everyone. That’s a good thing for all of us—regardless of what we think we “deserve.”

I can accept and endorse the fact that there are different interpretations of the Christian faith. There always have been, and there always will be. But I never have and never will embrace a view of God that excludes the vast majority of humanity from the gift of salvation through Christ. I choose to take the Scripture at face value when it says “God desires everyone to be saved”! And I believe it is valid both biblically and theologically to hope for and believe in God’s eventual redemption of all people.[4]The foundation for this faith is nothing less than God’s character: it’s who God is—God our Savior. [5]

I realize this sermon may leave some of you scratching your heads. It may not sound like any sermon you’ve ever heard before. Unfortunately, the idea that we have to earn God’s love by doing enough good to deserve salvation has been around for a long time. But I would say that idea is not consistent with the message of Scripture. The Bible teaches us that God loves us simply because that’s who God is. And there’s nothing we can ever do to deserve that love. The flip side of it is that there is nothing we can ever do to lose God’s love. The good news of the Gospel is that God loves us all, and because of that love he “desires for everyone to be saved.” That is the purpose and the goal toward which God has been working throughout the centuries. And nothing and no one will be able to prevent God from accomplishing that goal. It may seem like “cheating” to some, but I call it “grace.”

[2] Cf. Hendrikus Berkhof, Christian Faith, 136, where he (as a Reformed theologian) points out that the doctrine of dual predestination “has caused much uncertainty and has robbed many Christians of the joy of the Christian faith.”

[3] Cf. John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, 3.23.1: “since election itself could not stand except as set over against reprobation … those whom God passes over, he condemns.” Calvin was influenced by Augustine of Hippo, who argued that God’s desire for “all people to be saved” only applies to those whom God has predestined to salvation, and excludes all others, even infants who die without being baptized. See Augustine, On Rebuke and Grace, 14.44; On the Predestination of the Saints, 18.36; Enchiridion, 27, 103; cf. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Christian Tradition I:321; Johannes Quasten, Patrology IV:443. On infants, see Augustine, On the Soul and its Origin, 4.11.16; cf. Pelikan, Christian Tradition I:297-98.

[4] Many throughout the history of the church have endorsed this view, beginning with Origen of Caesarea, and including Gregory of Nyssa, Juliana of Norwich. See J. Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, I: 151-52; V:116-17, 224; J. Quasten, Patrology II:87-91; III:289-90. In more recent times this view was represented by Catholic theologians like Karl Rahner and Hans Urs von Balthasar, and by Protestant Theologians of all traditions. In the Reformed tradition, both Karl Barth (eventually) and Jürgen Moltmann, both of whom were influenced by the 19^th Century German pietist Christoph Blumhardt, endorsed this viewpoint.

[5] Cf. James D. G. Dunn, “The First and Second Letters to Timothy and The Letter to Titus” New Interpreters Bible XI:798, where he says that this is “a statement that is as clear as any assertion of ‘Christian universalism’: God wills the salvation of everyone.”

Monday, September 22, 2025

Channels of Grace

1 Timothy 1:12-17[1]

We’ve been discussing some of the pitfalls of religion over the last several weeks. As hard as it is to admit, the Church has not escaped the flaws inherent in all human religion. I think it’s fitting to have this discussion this year because Luke’s Gospel focuses on these matters. A brief overview of history shows us that the Church has had a mixed legacy. In many cases those who follow Jesus have given sacrificially and have poured out kindness and mercy to those who are hurting. At times giving their very lives to serve other people. But in all too many cases, I’m afraid the Church has been responsible for inflicting harm. More than that, the Church has inflicted violence of many kinds on innocent people. At times it was just for being from the wrong religion. I think about the crusades. At times it was for being the wrong gender. I think about the “witch hunts.” There were sometimes when it was simply for practicing a different form of Christianity! I think about Protestants versus Catholics and vice versa.

Just like every other human endeavor, religion is flawed because it is practiced by human beings. Many others have observed that the roots of the problem are to be found in our own capacity for fear, hatred, and self-deception![2] As hard as it is for us to hear, our religion can turn into neurosis. The definition of neurosis is that what a person has repressed—fear of not being “enough,” self-hatred, excessive pride, unbridled desires—becomes what they see in others. But it’s all an elaborate (but unconscious) ploy to avoid having to face the ugly truth within themselves![3] This repression of one’s own insecurity and guilt inevitably leads to a rigid set of rules and authoritarian beliefs that are considered absolute precisely because they protect the guilty from having to face their own shame. Anyone who opposes, challenges, or in any way questions that system of religious self-justification becomes the target of vicious hatred and violent attacks. It’s happened over and over again in the history of the world! When religion originates with fear and hatred, it’s no wonder that people kill others in the name of God, as heartbreaking as it is to recognize!

By his own admission, St. Paul was such a man. His devotion to Judaism was so complete that he considered the message of Jesus about God’s joyful acceptance even of those who have lost their way to be a blasphemous insult. When confronted with the gospel, Paul’s initial response was violent. Anyone who preached Jesus’ message deserved a death sentence. What made Jesus’ gospel outrageous to someone like Paul was that it defines God as the one who loves everyone so much that he goes out searching for those who have lost their way, as our Gospel lesson reminds us.[4] But the fact that Jesus preached and enacted that good news contradicted Paul’s original view of God as a stern and unfeeling judge who doles out rewards and punishments in strict conformity to obedience and sin. Jesus’ message of grace and mercy to those who have lost their way was an intolerable upheaval in the image of God for Jewish zealots like Paul. It was outright blasphemy! And so he set about to eradicate it.

Again, this isn’t propaganda hurled against Paul by his opponents. This comes from Paul’s own confessions about his life. In our lesson from 1 Timothy for today, we hear about how Paul had formerly been “a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence” (1 Tim. 1:13). I can imagine that his heart broke as he authored those words. The book of Acts recounts that Paul was on his way to Damascus with the authority to seek out followers of Jesus and have them put to death! The sobering fact is that he did all of that on God’s behalf, as an expression of his faith. That may seem impossible to believe, and yet I think it was part and parcel of his version of that compulsive, neurotic religion. When confronted with something he could not reconcile with his own “sacred cows,” Paul didn’t hesitate to act in anger and violence. People of all faiths still do it all the time.

But something happened to Paul that changed him. He came face-to-face with the risen and exalted Christ. And as a result Paul says he received mercy and grace “poured all over” him (1 Tim 1:14, CEB). That was enough to convince him that he was headed in the wrong direction. So he turned his life around. But more than that, he received a commission: Paul says he was “judged faithful” and “appointed” to serve Christ. And so, as he says elsewhere, Paul began to proclaim the good news he had formerly tried to destroy (cf. Gal. 1:23). In a real sense, Paul became a channel of the very grace and mercy he had formerly sought to suppress and even to eradicate.

Some might be tempted to say that God made an exception for Paul. But our lesson for today suggests that the reason why Paul experienced such extraordinary grace and mercy was not only to make him a channel of that grace to others, but also to show that this is the way God deals with us all. As the Scripture lesson puts it, Paul’s experience was to demonstrate that “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners” (1 Tim. 1:15). Since Paul could consider himself the “foremost,” or a “worst-case” sinner, our lesson says that he received mercy so that “Jesus Christ might display the utmost patience, making me an example to those who would come to believe in him for eternal life” (1 Tim. 1:16). Paul experienced God’s grace, mercy, and love so that he could become a channel of that grace to others, especially those who were considered a “lost cause.”

I think some of this might come as a shock to us. After all, it is “Saint Paul” we’re talking about, preacher and teacher of the gospel, founder and pastor of churches, and writer of about a third of the New Testament! He’s called “Saint Paul” for a reason. Most of us would consider ourselves much worse sinners than Paul! But I would say our lesson insists that the reason why Paul experienced such amazing grace and mercy was to show there is no one who is beyond the love of God. By his own admission he had blasphemed Christ and viciously attacked and even murdered Christians. If he could be forgiven for that, then there was no one who could not be forgiven their sins. Since Jesus came into the world to save sinners, that includes us all. Paul was the prime example of how God’s grace can transform even the most violent person into a channel of grace to others.

While our Scripture lesson for today comes from the end of Paul’s life, the message that God’s grace and mercy and love are for all people was an important part of the gospel Paul preached from the very beginning. In fact, this message can be found in Scripture long before Paul lived, even before Jesus died on the cross. Throughout the Hebrew Bible, God displays grace and mercy to the people of Israel again and again. Grace and mercy and unfailing love define God’s very character throughout the Bible. We might wonder how Paul and his compatriots could be so devoted to Scripture and be so completely wrong-headed about God. And yet, as I observed when we began, whenever anyone uses religion to cover up a fundamental sense of guilt and shame, their religion can become angry and violent.

As was the case for Paul, so it is still true today that God’s grace and mercy and love remain intact, even for those who use their religion to harm others. God’s grace remains for us all! And part of Paul’s point in our lesson from 1 Timothy is that the extraordinary grace God showed someone like Paul is for everyone. Christ Jesus came to save us all. That means there is no one who is ever beyond the love of God. This is the way God has dealt with people from the very beginning. But the purpose of God’s grace has always been to transform those who experience it into channels of grace to others. That was true with Abraham and his descendants. It was true for Paul and his compatriots. And it’s still true for us today.

There are things happening in our world and in our country that are troubling and discouraging. It may leave us wondering what we can do to make a difference in this big world that seems to be spinning out of control into violence and hatred. I’ve said it before: I believe that every time we act with integrity and compassion, it makes a difference. Every time we share the grace we’ve received from God with someone else, it makes a difference. It certainly makes a difference directly in the life of those with whom we share that grace. But I believe it also makes a difference in the bigger world. We may not see it. We may not see the path in front of us, but that’s because we’re living in a time when we’re forging that path by every act of integrity, kindness, or compassion. Every time we act as channels of God’s grace, we’re forging the path toward the light, toward goodness. We’re blazing the trail toward kingdom of God. The purpose of God’s grace has always been to transform us into channels of grace to others. That was true for Paul and it’s still true for us today. God shows us his grace and mercy and love, without restrictions or conditions, to make us into people who will rejoice with him any time anyone who has lost their way finds their way back home. He does so to make us into people who will become channels of that grace to those around us.

[1] © Alan Brehm 2025. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 9/14/2025 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Keith Ward, Is Religion Dangerous?, 25-41. Jürgen Moltmann, The Church in the Power of the Spirit, 186-89.

[3] Cf. Paul Tillich, “The Yoke of Religion,” in The Shaking of the Foundations, 93-103; Emil Brunner, Revelation and Reason, 258-273; Karl Barth, The Epistle to the Romans, 236.

[4] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God, 128-29, where he points out that Jesus “demonstrated God’s eschatological law of grace towards those without the law and the transgressors of the law, through his forgiveness of sins. By so doing he abolished the legal distinction between religious and secular, righteous and unrighteous, devout and sinful. He revealed God in a different way from that in which he was understood in the law and the tradition and was perceived by the guardians of the law.” Cf. also ibid., 142, where he speaks of this as a “revolution in the concept of God”: “God comes not to carry out just revenge upon the evil, but to justify by grace sinners, whether they are Zealots or tax collectors, Pharisees or sinners, Jews or Samaritans, and therefore, also, whether they are Jews or Gentiles.”

The Waking Dreamer