Faith & Hope in Today's World

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
August 16, 2026
Proper 15, A
Isaiah 56:1,6-8
Psalm 67
Matthew 15:21-28

I was on a radio show a couple of weeks ago on 90.1, KPFT. The show is called, THNX, spelled T-H-N-X, and the host, Rand Mintzer was interviewing me and the Rev. Laura Mayo, senior minister of Covenant Church Houston. The topic of the show that night was “Faith in Today’s World.” Rand was looking at the challenges people are facing and the struggles so many are having while a very few are exceedingly, mind-numbingly wealthy. He asked about how our faith relates to these struggles, and he asked how we and our congregations are able to maintain hope amidst such disparity and injustice.

Rev. Laura talked several times about Amos – pointing out that it’s pretty short (only 9 chapters), and is fantastic when it comes to talking about the justice God desires.

Hear this, you who trample on the needy,
    and bring to ruin the poor of the land,
5 saying, “When will the new moon be over
    so that we may sell grain,
and the Sabbath,
    so that we may offer wheat for sale?
We will make the ephah smaller and the shekel heavier
    and practice deceit with false balances,
6 buying the poor for silver
    and the needy for a pair of sandals
    and selling the sweepings of the wheat.” (Amos 8:4-6)

Here, you had folks keeping the sabbath; they were following the law, not working on the day of rest. Unfortunately, they were like beasts lying in wait to pounce on their prey. Once the sabbath was over, they overcharged for grain and wheat, they lied and cheated to make extra money, and through all of that, they robbed the poor. 

In modern times, you could say they kept wages low while increasing prices so they could keep more profits for themselves. They weren’t breaking laws enough that you could really catch them, and by all outward appearances, they looked like fine, upstanding people, but they trampled the needy and brought ruin to the poor of the land. 

In our reading from Isaiah 56 today, we heard God calling people to “maintain justice, and do what is right,” and to “keep the sabbath, and [not] profane it.” As we saw in Amos, keeping the sabbath and maintaining justice are tied together for God. Doing religious practices right doesn’t matter if we don’t treat people with dignity and respect. Following religious rules to keep ourselves in God’s good graces may even count against us if we are adding to the hurt and harm in the world. 

Folks that oppress others and harm others tend to divide people up into categories like the worthy and the unworthy. These fine, upstanding people are worthy of honor and respect. These lowly schlebs, well, they’re not worthy of much of anything, are they? It’s easier to exploit people and oppress workers when you don’t see them as worthy. It’s easier not to care about the harm you are causing others when you don’t see them as worthy.

Jesus taught his disciples something about worthiness in his conversation with the Canaanite woman in the story we heard today. 

On the surface, we have Jesus telling this woman, who just wanted to have her child healed, that she was a dog and not worthy to have anything from him, especially not something as grand as healing of her child. That is decidedly different, however, from how Jesus usually treated women and how Jesus usually treated people who came to him asking for healing. Jesus usually gave honor and respect and chose to show mercy to people, relieving their suffering.

When the Canaanite woman shouted at Jesus to heal her daughter, he first ignored her, and his disciples asked him to send her away because she was bothering them. Rude. Talk about not seeing her as worthy, Jesus said that he was not sent for her kind of person, but only for the people of Israel. In other words, “You aren’t worthy.”

So, the woman decided to spar with Jesus. Since she wasn’t worthy, she knelt down before Jesus and asked again for Jesus to heal her daughter. At that point, Jesus called her a dog, once again, not worthy of him or his mercy. The woman came right back with “Even the dogs eat the crumbs under their master’s table.” 

That was a rather brilliant move on her part. I can see her getting angry and shouting at Jesus at this point. “I’m not a dog! How dare you call me a dog! My daughter is sick, and you need to heal her! You’re horrible! You ain’t no healer or good person! You’re the devil!” Well, he might have seen that like a dog barking angrily at someone, and Jesus could have been proven right, that she was just a dog, not worthy of him.

So, rather than take offence at Jesus calling her a dog, the woman basically said, “Ok, fine. I’m a dog, but I’m still a human being.” That revealed her dignity.

I’ve heard this referred to as sparing between the woman and Jesus. Perhaps he was sparing with her to teach his disciples a lesson? Perhaps she brought him up short. He had just said that what defiles us is not what our particular religious practices are, but what we do to one another, how we treat one another.

Well, Jesus wasn’t treating the woman well at first, and through their sparing, Jesus was shown to believe what he taught. He helped the woman out.

He also revealed her human dignity. Through their sparing, she didn’t deny being a dog, she just took his insult and turned it right back around. Even the dogs eat the crumbs. Again, “Ok, fine. I’m a dog, but I’m still a human being. You want to give me crumbs? I’ll take crumbs.”

That revealed her human dignity far more than if she had shouted back at him. Dogs bark and bite. She did not. She talked calmly and reasoned with Jesus. In admitting to being a dog, she showed that she was far from actually being a dog. In agreeing that she was a dog, her humanity was revealed.

That’s like Jesus’ teaching about turning the other cheek and not resisting an evil person. (Matthew 5:39) She didn’t resist his evil sounding words. She turned her cheek, offered herself the same insult again and exposed the inhumanity of calling her a dog in the first place. 

It really was brilliant, and I can see Jesus’ excitement. “Dude! She’s doing exactly what I taught!” I can also imagine the whole conversation between them being a way that Jesus took the opportunity to teach his disciples. “Here’s what turning the other cheek is all about, and here is what it means to treat people with dignity and respect.”

So, through all of that, her dignity was revealed and her suffering was relieved. Jesus showed that the way of God is not to some people worthy and some people unworthy. The way of God is not to practice religion and look good to others while oppressing workers, trampling the needy and bringing ruin to the poor of the land. No, the way of God is to care for all and to reveal the dignity and relieve the suffering of people some may consider to be unworthy.

Revealing dignity and relieving suffering is our way of life at Lord of the Streets. That’s our mission. “Reveal dignity and relieve suffering, through ministries and relationships with people facing homelessness.” As I said last week, that’s the mission for everyone who chooses to be a member of Lord of the Streets (and for everyone who chooses to be a partner and supporter of Lord of the Streets). That’s our mission in each of our lives, and that’s our mission as a church community. 

That mission is also how we can find faith and hope in today’s world. We strive to reveal one another’s dignity and to relieve one another’s suffering. That is the true life of our religion. Like Amos said, like Isaiah said, like Jesus said, revealing dignity and relieving suffering is how we show that we truly love God, that we live our religion. Recognizing all people as worthy of honor and respect, love and belonging, that’s how we find hope and faith in today’s world.

The Wrong King

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
November 23, 2025
Proper 29 – Christ the King, C
Jeremiah 23:1-6
Psalm 46
Luke 23:33-43

Jesus was killed by the Roman Empire as a heretic and potential insurrectionist. He had no political power and rejected political power when it was offered to him, both by Satan in his temptations in the wilderness and by Jesus’ followers when they wanted to make him king. He desired no earthly political power and taught no earthly political power for his followers. “You will be handed over to [the authorities],” he said, not you will become the authorities to deal out punishment and death to others. 

Jesus’ church, therefore, remained a religious movement without great earthly authority for over 300 years. The church did not rule over others with political or governmental power. Rather, any authority or influence the church had came from the relationships of love and service they gave to others. 

Jesus was the king of the church, and people followed his rule by living his teachings. Love one another. Pray for your enemies. Do not return anyone evil for evil. If you have more than you need, share generously with others. Live lives of prayer, service, and above all, love. That also includes having fun, enjoying life, working, being with friends and family. Love God, love people, and let everything else flow from that. However imperfectly Jesus’ followers lived that life of love, and they did live that way imperfectly, such is the church with Jesus as king. Love God, love people, and let everything else flow from that.

Then, in the year 380, Emperor Theodosius I made Christianity the official state religion of the Roman Empire. At that point, I would argue that the Emperor of Rome usurped Jesus’ role as king of the Church, at least in an earthly sense. At that point, the Church had political power and authority to force others to follow its desires. 

War, for example, was not the way of Jesus, but once the Church and the Empire were united, when Empire when to war, the Church went to war. Rather than love and pray for one’s enemies, the church began killing their enemies at the point of a sword. 

Even after the fall of the Roman Empire the Church was often closely tied to the government in many nations with great political power and authority. It seems like the Church got used to ruling, and the power of the church remained tied to the power of the State.

When Christopher Columbus came the Bahamas, he claimed the land for Spain, and he decided to convert the people to Christianity. The conversions didn’t really take all that well, and over the decades, the King of Spain ordered forced conversions, and the Church complied. Believe in Jesus or be tortured and killed. That’s what the church looked like with an earthly king as its head: forcing people to believe in Jesus, destroying their religious sites, enslaving people, and killing those who resisted. 

That’s a far cry from love God, love people, and let everything else flow from that. Forced conversions are not what God intended for us. Coerced conversions, making people terrified of what will happen to them if they don’t believe in Jesus, is not what God intended for us. Offering our belief to others that they may find the healing that we have found, that is what God intends.

Be a light, Jesus taught us. A light attracts people in the darkness. The light of a loving God amidst the darkness of hatred. The light of taking care of one another amidst the darkness of indifference. The light of hope amidst the darkness of despair.  

Bringing light into darkness is kinda God’s deal. In the beginning, when the earth was nothing but a formless void, and darkness reigned everywhere, God said, “Let there be light,” and light shined into the darkness.

When God made humanity, God gave us some of God’s own power so that we could rule over creation and care for this wonderful earth. We’ve not always done a particularly good job of that, but we see God continuing to love us, continuing to walk with us, continuing to shine light into the darkness.

When God formed the people of Israel, God made them to be a light to the nations. Love God and love people, God taught. Be a light to others by how you live. If you loan someone money, don’t charge interest. Use what you have to help out someone in need, and trust that they’ll do the same if things are reversed. If you really want to please God, take care of the poor and needy among you. Care for the orphans and widows. If you’re really angry with someone, leave the vengeance to God, trusting God’s justice, even when it doesn’t happen on earth.

The people of Israel didn’t always follow God’s ways, and eventually they even asked for a king to lead them like the other nations. God warned them that the king would take all of the best of what everyone had for himself. The king would take their sons to fight in his wars and his daughters to serve him in his palace, and the people said, “Sounds great.” 

So, the people rejected God as their king and decided to have an earthly king instead. It didn’t work out all that well, as you might imagine, but God loved the people of Israel enough to let them make that mistake. Then God continued striving with the people of Israel so that despite all of their very human screw ups, they could continue to be a light to the nations to this day.

When Jesus founded the Church, he called his disciples a light to shine in the darkness for all. “Love one another as I have loved you,” he told them. That is the light he wanted his disciples to shine, love for one another. Jesus wanted his disciples to attract others to them by loving one another, by being light. 

Now, the church has screwed up plenty over the centuries, and through it all, Jesus has stuck with us. When the Church even went so far as to reject Jesus as king, and began relying on the power of the Roman Empire instead, things went pretty badly, and Jesus continued to strive with the church. Jesus continued loving humanity. Jesus continued shining as a light for us to turn to when darkness overcame us.

I’d love to say that the church no longer rejects Jesus as king, but we know that’s not true. Even without the tyranny of the Roman Empire or the genocidal expansion of colonialism, there are plenty of ways that pockets of the modern Church still reject Jesus as king. Think of the Ku Klux Klan, which claimed Christianity as their faith, and yet their king was not Jesus but themselves and fear of being displaced or devalued. 

Think of Christian groups who use the government to try to force Christianity on others, rather than trying to attract others simply by being the light of love. They may think of Jesus as their king, but Jesus didn’t use a government or anything else to force his beliefs on anybody. 

Think about Christian groups who are constantly threatening people with eternal torture if they don’t believe in Jesus. Conversions based on those threats aren’t forced conversions, but they are coerced conversions with a foundation of fear, rather than a foundation of Jesus. Fear is king in such pockets of Christianity with Jesus serving to alleviate that fear.

Forcing people to believe, scaring people into believing, using Jesus as a weapon to achieve some victory or another: pockets of the church that do these kinds of things have the wrong king in charge. 

Jesus didn’t force anything on anyone. When push came to shove, he let himself be killed, rather than rise up in revolt against Rome. Jesus’ way was to let Rome do their horrible, oppressive, imperial stuff, and he and his disciples were going to be the church. In the darkness of Empire and authoritarianism, Jesus was king by living the light of love. Actually, Jesus lived the lights of faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of those lights was love. 

That light of Jesus’ love still shines in the darkness. The great love that God has for us shines in the darkness, and our faith and hope, the light that shines in the darkness, is ultimately the great light of love. 

Yeah, but This Ain't Enough: Choosing Gratitude

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
October 12, 2025
Proper 23, C
2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c
Psalm 111
Luke 17:11-19

Have you ever noticed how much we tend to take things for granted? We tend to get bored with things pretty quickly, and even with really great things in our lives, we often end up desiring something better or something more. We get so accustomed to the blessings in our lives that we no longer notice them. We no longer give thanks for them. We end up taking our blessings for granted, giving no more notice of them than our belly buttons, or our left pinky toe, or one random arm hair.

When we stop noticing our blessings and stop giving thanks for them, they kind of fade for us, like the sun on a cold and rainy day. It’s still there, but we can’t see it, can’t feel it’s warmth on our skin. When we stop noticing our blessings, they are still there, but we can no longer feel the warmth and healing of them in our hearts. Taking things for granted leaves us decaying on the inside. Faith, hope, and love dim as we take things for granted. The antidote for that, the bright light to shine in our hearts and revive our faith, hope, and love, is gratitude.

Jesus healed ten people in the story we heard today. All ten of them had leprosy, a terrible and contagious skin condition, so they were no longer allowed to be near other people. They were quarantined away from others and had to shout when others came near, warning them to stay away.

So, when these ten were healed of their leprosy, you’d think they would all have been so excited and grateful that they’d run back to Jesus and thank him, giving praise to God, but as we heard, that didn’t happen. Only one of the ten came back glorifying God and giving thanks to Jesus. 

Did the others take their healing for granted? Probably not. I imagine they were pretty darn happy, and they definitely were going to show themselves to the priests because the priests were in charge of ending their quarantine, but they didn’t go back and give thanks to the one who healed them. Maybe they just didn’t realize Jesus had healed them? After all, the healing happened when they were on their way to the priests, Jesus didn’t really do anything like wave his arms or touch them. Maybe they didn’t notice that he was the reason they were healed? 

No one’s that thick, right? Well, yeah, maybe they were. 

How often do we not see blessings in front of us? How often do we stress, fret, and get upset about problems, when there are good things around us if we would simply notice them? How often might we be healed if we simply noticed and gave thanks for the blessings in our lives, rather than taking the good things for granted.

In our reading from 2 Kings, Naaman seemed to take for granted that he should be healed. If there was a great healer, he should be healed by him, personally. Naaman was a big deal, and he should have been given the utmost respect and honor, he felt. So, when the prophet Elisha sent an underling to tell Naaman, to go bathe in the river, Naaman was pissed. “Doesn’t this prophet, healer guy know who I am, how important I am?”

Naaman’s pride got knocked down a few pegs, didn’t it, and because of that, he was no longer taking everything for granted. Naaman was no longer assuming everything should be owed to him, and so he became grateful for his healing, rather than take it for granted.

Taking the blessings in our lives for granted, rather than being grateful for them leaves us cold and in darkness. Gratitude, on the other hand, heals us, saves us, as surely as the physical healing touch of Jesus.

Giving thanks, rather than expecting more, that’s part of faith, part of a faithful life with God. We see this truth played out in Adam and Eve’s unfaithfulness to God.

Adam and Eve weren’t grateful for what they had. They took it all for granted and wanted more. “Thanks so much, God, this garden is absolutely wonderful. All of the trees, fruit, animals, top notch work on your part, God, and looking at each other, whoo, nice. So, truly, thanks a bunch, but we’re not really satisfied. Seen this, done that, so we’re just going to go ahead and take that thing you said not to.

Lack of gratitude from Adam and Eve, and suddenly all the beauty and wonder of everything around that was so good suddenly seemed grey, drab, leeching sorrow rather than bringing joy. “Yeah, it’s good, they thought, but it’s not good enough. We deserve better.

Imagine being in paradise with your ideal, perfect companion. You don’t have to work because the ground just makes food for you. You get to just enjoy life, walking with God and one another, truly not a care in the world.

Can you imagine ever saying, “Yeah, but what more is there? This isn’t enough?”

Yeah, me too. Given enough time, we tend to always find what’s lacking, what’s not good enough. Even given paradise, we’ll find a way to say, “Yeah, but it could be better.” 

Every time we do, we end up shutting ourselves off to the blessings we have, longing for some imagined blessing that we don’t have, certain that life would be ok if only we had that imagined whatever. 

The better woman or man to be with. I can’t accept this one’s faults and flaws anymore. They’re still fine, but I deserve better. I just found out something about them I don’t like that much, so I’m moving on. If there is a way to take a blessing for granted, we’re probably going to find it.

That’s why we need Jesus. That’s why God became one of us as Jesus. We start taking blessings for granted, and God is a part of us, guiding us back. By God becoming human, Jesus is in and through all of us, each one of us, so we can strive together and build each other up in gratitude. We can help one another notice our blessings. 

Now, this doesn’t mean we don’t get to be sad. Of course we get to be sad. There’s some really terrible stuff in the world. If we aren’t saddened by the horrors around us, well, then we have blinders on just as much as if we ignore our blessings. 

Choosing gratitude as a way of life does not deny pain and sorrow, but choosing gratitude does help us heal from pain and sorrow. The Gospel is ultimately all about our healing. So, a question is, do we take the Gospel for granted? Do we take the union with God and one another that has been given to us for granted? Do we take God’s forgiveness of us for granted? Do we, therefore, no longer notice the Gospel? Do we no longer notice God’s grace? Do we live lives without gratitude?

Of course we do. Like Naaman, like Jesus’ disciples, like the nine people Jesus healed, we all, at times, live without gratitude. We all stop noticing the blessings in our lives, sometimes something as simple and ordinary as the air in our lungs. So, we are reminded to notice. Look for and notice the blessings in our lives. When some blessing happens in our lives, give thanks to God from whom all blessing flow. 

That’s faith, choosing to notice the beauty and joy of life. Choosing to give thanks, sometimes even when the rainclouds gather and we can no longer see the sun or feel its warmth on our skin, we give thanks anyway, trusting that the blessing is still there. As we give thanks and choose gratitude as a way of life, then faith, hope, and love spring forth again in our hearts, and we find new and healed life once again. 

Poppy Seeds and Drowning Trees

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
October 5, 2025
Proper 23, C
Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4
Psalm 37:1-10
Luke 17:5-10

“Increase our faith,” the disciples commanded Jesus, and Jesus said, “No.” Strange, huh? How often was God pleading with the Israelites to have more faith? How often did Jesus say things like, “Do not doubt, but believe”? You’d think of all things that they would ask for, faith is one that Jesus would say, “Sure, man, more faith, deeper faith, all the faith you want, you got it!” That’s not what happened, though. He told them, “no.”

What Jesus was really telling his disciples was, “You don’t need more faith. You just need to do well and trust with the faith you’ve got.” 

That’s how the disciples had chosen to live, trusting Jesus and living as though his teachings really were the best way of life for them…until Jesus said ‘forgive people, like, a lot.’ That’s what Jesus had taught them just before they said, “Give us more faith!”

These are the same folks who had been healing people and casting out demons in Jesus’ name. Jesus told them to go do that, and they were so excited. They didn’t cower down and say they weren’t ready or not strong enough in faith. They went out boldly, healed the sick, and cast out demons like Buffy the Vampire Slayer on speed. They came back and were swapping stories, so excited.

Then, weeks or months later, Jesus taught them to forgive people who wronged them, not just once or twice, but over and over. Forgive people, Jesus taught, a lot, because people are kinda messed up, and they keep messing up, and as often as they do and then turn around and try to make things right, Jesus taught to forgive. Over, and over, and over, forgive people. 

Suddenly the disciples were saying, “Forgiveness, eh, eh, are your sure about that one, Jesus? Yeah, maybe I don’t trust you that much after all, but thanks a ton. It’s been great, loved casting out demons, don’t think I have enough faith in me for forgiveness, though.”

So, Jesus told them, no. You’re not getting more faith. You’re not getting more belief. What you have is enough. He told them that if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to a tree, “Hey Tree, go throw yourself into a lake,” and the tree would pull its own roots out of the ground, walk over to the lake, and throw itself in. 

Now, I don’t think Jesus meant that we would or could actually do this. As a kid, I wondered, “Why can’t I make a tree throw itself into a lake? I guess my faith isn’t good enough?” I don’t know, maybe I only had a half a mustard seed or just a poppy seed of faith. 

No, Jesus doesn’t mean that we’re failures in faith if we can’t actually make a tree walk to its death in a lake. Jesus was using this kinda weird image to illustrate the point that his disciples didn’t need more faith to forgive people as he was teaching. Whatever small amount of faith they had was sufficient. What they needed was faithfulness. 

What they needed was to trust Jesus and be faithful to what he taught. Then, their faith would grow. Like not by faith alone, but also by faithfulness. That’s what we heard in Habakkuk. The righteous live by their faith, or really by their faithfulness. 

The disciples thought they didn’t have enough faith. Perhaps they doubted and so thought they couldn’t be faithful because of their doubt.

The opposite of faith, however, is not doubt. Jesus talked about faith the size of a mustard seed. That ain’t a lot of faith, which means you’re going to have doubt. In fact, you can’t have faith without doubt. Doubt goes hand in hand with faith, and we wrestle with it.

Mother Theresa, for example, was hugely faithful to God’s calling on her to care for orphaned children in Calcutta, India. She devoted her whole life to those children, and throughout her life she had faith and struggled with deep doubt. She wrestled with it, and Jesus didn’t grant her more faith. The faith she had was sufficient, and she remained faithful with even that small amount of faith. 

So no, the opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty. I don’t need faith to know that two plus two equals four. I need faith to believe that the people in my life who love me actually love me. I mean, I’m pretty sure they do, but I can’t read their minds. I trust them. Love is based on trust, on faith, and faith requires humility enough to admit that I don’t know everything, and I’m going to trust anyway. 

Through my wrestling with faith and doubt, I too wanted more faith, until I realized that what I really wanted was certainty. I’d so often heard people talk about their faith as certainty. Pastors would say they know their faith is true beyond any doubt, and I could never get there. I finally realized that I could never know with certainty, but I also realized I love God becoming human and joining with us physically in every part of our lives, and I love it so much that I choose to believe it. I still don’t know. I still have doubt, and I choose to believe anyway.

I admitted this to a group of pastors during a Bible study one day, and there was stony silence in the room. Finally, one of them said, “Well yeah, I have doubts just like you’re talking about, but I’d never admit that to my congregation.” There was agreement throughout the room by the rest of the pastors who all wrestled with doubts but who put on a show of having certainty in their faith. 

That means that those pastors were all lying to their congregations. They would never admit having doubts. They were pretending to have certainty that they didn’t have, and they were leading their people to think that they had to have certainty too. That means that these pastors were inadvertently leading their people away from the humility of faith and toward the pride of certainty.

Certainty says, I must be right. I am so certain that I am right, that I won’t even question it. You disagree with me. You, therefore, are not only wrong, but terribly, stupidly, sinfully wrong. 

The pride of certainty is not faith. That sound like how a lot of religious and political discourse goes nowadays? Behind certainty is the sin of pride. I am right. I know better. I am so important. I can put myself in God’s place. God said not to eat this fruit in the Garden of Eden, but I know better. I will do it anyway and place myself above God. 

Jesus said have faith the size of a mustard seed. Well, I’m going to do better than that. I’m going to have huge faith, certainty with no doubts. There’s pride there. Something is hard to believe or do, so I’ll go with certainty, rather than faith, and I’ll make sure that anyone who disagrees gets put in their place because despite what Jesus said, faith isn’t enough for me. I need certainty. 

No you don’t, Jesus said. Just have a little bit of faith, and follow that faith up with faithfulness. Trust in my ways, Jesus taught us, even when you’re not sure. Set yourself aside and trust in Jesus’ ways and teachings as we walk this life together. When I don’t think forgiveness is right, ‘cause it sure doesn’t feel right, I’m going to assume I don’t know everything. I’m going to trust in Jesus instead.

Faith is humble enough to believe in something, knowing that you’re not sure, and even not being sure, choosing to give yourself over to this belief. Faith says, I will give my heart to this belief. I will choose to live as though this faith is true. I will choose to live as though the teachings of Jesus really are the best way of life for me. I will let go of the certainty of self and humbly accept this little amount of faith, and follow where it leads.

Unflinching Self-Honesty and a Life Well-Lived

The Rev. Brad Sullivan

Lord of the Streets, Houston
March 23, 2025
3 Lent, C
Philippians 3:17-4:1
Psalm 27
Luke 13:31-35

So, the Roman governor, Pilate, had some Israelites killed, and then he took some of their blood and mixed it in with the sacrifices Rome was making to their gods. He turned people into human sacrifices, so not only was their death unjust and tragic, but then Pilate turned their death into a total affront to all the people of Israel. 

So, the questions would have come. Is God protecting us or not? Are we still God’s beloved, or were those people just really, really awful that God let that happen to them? That must be it.

So, Jesus asked them, “Do you really think they were worse than everyone else?” 

“Well, yeah,” the people thought.

“No guys, not so much,” Jesus responded. “We’re all liable to the same judgment, by God, not by Rome, and tragic death, like that, can happen to any of us at any time.” A terrible and corrupt governor in Rome decided to kill those Israelites, not God, and those 18 who died when the tower of Siloam fell on them, that was due to unfortunate engineering and less than ideal construction, not God deciding to kill them with a tower.

People die, all the time: sometimes after a long and beautiful life, peacefully dying in their beds; sometimes suddenly, violently, through horrible tragedy. That’s just the way it is.

This isn’t really a surprise to us. We know this. We see it all the time. As much as we may sometimes like to think or wish that the wicked die terribly while the good are blissfully eased into peaceful and expected death, we know this isn’t the case. Whether it’s Rabbi Kusher’s book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, Rabbi Schusterman’s book, Why God Why?, or Rabbi Joel’s song, Only the Good Die Young, we seem to understand that tragic and early death can happen to anyone at any time. We seem to understand that the amount and quality of one’s sinfulness does not determine the amount of one’s suffering or violence and suddenness of one’s death. 

We know this, and yet, we often have thoughts and questions just like the Israelites did, who asked Jesus about the people Pilate killed. Sometimes we’re trying to justify ourselves a little bit and make ourselves feel safer. Maybe they were bad, or we wonder if they had done something wrong. We certainly hear preachers often talk about this, though usually directed at folks with political differences, religious differences, or even folks with the wrong brand of Christianity. That self-justification is bad enough. Perhaps even worse is when we can’t find anything objectionable in those who died, so we try to defend and justify God. “God needed a new angel.” More than that little kid needed his mom, are you kidding me?

Well, whether we’re claiming that those people were bad or that God was particularly in need of a new winged harpist that day, all of our justifications for tragic death are a basic fear response. We’re trying to make sense of the world, and we’re trying to make safe our own place within it.

“Yeah, that’s missing the point, guys,” Jesus says. Rather than trying to fool yourselves into thinking that the world makes sense and is always good, right and just; rather than try to fool yourselves into imagining your place in the world is safe from harm, realize that yes, indeed, tragedy can happen to anyone at any time. So instead of fretting your life away with false platitudes to boost your serotonin levels, accept life as it is, with all of its sometimes scary randomness.

Then, repent, and repent again, and then, for good measure, repent again, and after that, go ahead and have breakfast and keep going with your day, repenting continually as you go. That’s what Jesus told the people in response to their question about whether only the wicked died tragically. Stop worrying about that, y’all, and instead, “repent and return to the Lord.”

Now, I don’t believe this was a fearful, frightening message that you better repent or else, despite what we may have heard from popular Christian preachers. Jesus was not threatening the people to be good enough or repent well enough that no harm would come to them. Jesus’ call to repentance is not meant as a talisman against harm. 

Rather, Jesus’ call to repentance is a call continually to align our lives with the life and love of God. Doing so may not save us from the crazy whims of a despotic ruler, and being good enough won’t magically keep a poorly built structure from falling on us. What repentance does, what continually aligning our lives with the life and love of God does is allow us to truly live, a life of wholeness, a life of fruitfulness. Like the fruit on the fig tree Jesus talked about, like the fruit of the Spirit, repentance brings about love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Those are the fruits we are seeking to grow in our lives. If our lives are long, ending peacefully in bed, we seek to grow the fruit of the Spirit, and if our lives are cut short, even violently, tragically, we still seek to grow the fruit of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. A life full of those fruits sounds like a life well-lived, whether long or short, a life well-lived. 

So, Jesus calls us to repentance, calls us to a life well-lived.

Repentance means looking deeply, being unflinchingly honest with ourselves, and seeing what defects of character, what ways we follow are bringing harm to ourselves or harm to others. Overindulgence, harshness, falsehood, malice, cruelty, frenzy, anger, resentment, hatred. We don’t eat these fruits in order to bring harm to the world. We eat these fruits because we are hurting and they make us feel better, at least for a little while. Anger, resentment and hatred make us feel strong. Overindulgence, harshness, and falsehood help us feel safe. Malice, cruelty, and frenzy make us feel in control.

So, we eat these fruits, and they destroy the fruit of the Spirit within us. Our overindulgence, harshness, falsehood, malice, cruelty, frenzy, anger, resentment, hatred: these things continually leach out of us into the lives of everyone around us. These negative fruits grow within us because of the ways we live which feed these fruits, these toxins, and so Jesus calls us to repent. 

Repent of the actions and ways in our lives that feed these toxins and cause them to leach out from us into the lives of others. What are those ways that feed these negative fruits? Of what do we each need to repent? Well, answering those questions is why we pray and look deeply into our lives with unflinching honesty. Then, we make a decision to turn from these harmful ways with God’s help. Our trust comes in believing that God actually does have something greater for us than our negative fruits bring. 

So, we are called to repent, over and over again, continually turning toward the ways of love, and hope, and faith. Repent of the ways that feed our anxiety and angst. Repent of the ways that feed our selfish overindulgence. Repent of the ways that fill our hearts with anger and resentment. Then, let God grow within us the fruit of the Spirit. 

With that fruit, we can be at peace, even amidst fear, even though death may come at any time. We seek the fruit of the Spirit. We turn to Jesus. We align our lives with his way of life and love, and we walk with him in a life well-lived.

The Medicine We Need

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston

September 22, 2024
Proper 20, B
James 3:1-12
Psalm 116:1-8
Mark 8:27-38

So, when my kids were younger and they had colds and various other things for which they’d take medicine, I would give them the medicine, and they’d pretty well take it. Maybe they’d ask, “What is this?” I’d tell them it was cold medicine and would make them feel better, and so they took it. Even then, though they had no idea of what it was or what it did. 

It wasn’t not like it was some new food that they could eat and spit out if they didn’t like it. The medicine was something they didn’t really understand at all, other than “Mom and Dad said it’s good for me, so I’ll take it.” It occurred to me at one point just how much trust there was in that. They were curious about it, but otherwise, the thought of not taking it didn’t really occur to them. We said it was good for them, that it would help them, and so with no further understanding, they took they medicine. 

Jesus’ trust in God was like that trust of a child. What did he do in the garden of Gethsemane, when he wanted to walk away from it all and not be arrested and killed? Jesus prayed, “not my will be done, but your will be done.” God had joined with humanity by becoming human as Jesus, and so in dying on the cross, God joined physically with humanity even in our death, so that nothing, not even death itself, can separate us from God. 

To Jesus, in the garden of Gethsemane, it is as if God said, “Your death is the medicine that humanity needs,” so Jesus, without even fully understanding said, “Ok, I trust you; your will be done.” Jesus had the trust of a child. 

Jesus also compared himself to a child. When his disciples were arguing among themselves about which one of them was the greatest, Jesus brought a child to them and said, “If you welcome a child, you welcome me.” Don’t worry about who is greatest. Trust in God. The child that Jesus brought to them had no greatness like the disciples wanted, but the child did have the trust of a child beloved of their parents. Jesus didn’t desire greatness from his disciples, but rather trust, knowing that setting aside their egos and trusting in God is what would be best for all of them. Trusting in God was the medicine they needed.

In James’ letter which we heard today, he wrote to a church that was in need of some medicine as well. The sickness from which some of them seemed to be suffering was “bitter envy and selfish ambition,” kinda like Jesus’ disciples before them.  

“Who is the greatest?” Jesus’ disciples asked. They were jockeying for position, wanting to have power and glory in Jesus’ kingdom. Those to whom James was writing seem to have been doing the same thing, fighting among themselves, trying to gain advantage over one another. Who was going to be in charge? Who was going to have more power and authority over the others?

I dare say that’s something we do in our lives too. Whether we’re wanting greatness in the larger society around us or we’re simply wanting some power over the people in our lives, most of us have some ways that we want greater power. That need for greatness is fueled by insecurity of not being good enough. That need for power is fueled by fear and a desire for greater control in our lives, control over others so they don’t have control over us. Our desires for greater power and control are totally understandable, and those desires sound like wanting the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, trusting in our own power, rather than letting go some of our power and trusting in God. 

Jesus taught his disciples to give up their desires for power and to trust God like a little child because Jesus knew that would heal them more than gaining the power they sought over one another. If they got the power and greatness they wanted, their fear and insecurity would still be there. They would constantly be at odds with one another, constantly fighting for more power, not trusting each other. Power and greatness wouldn’t heal them, but just give them more over which to be fearful and insecure. 

The medicine that would heal the disciples and did heal the disciples was to entrust their lives to God. When they did, what happened in their lives? Peace, gentleness, mercy. They found they could face the challenges of life, not always getting their way, but finding greater peace with life’s challenges, trusting in God. Greatness be damned, Jesus’ disciples found they didn’t need it.

What Jesus’ disciples found was that greatness within the church wasn’t about power but about service. Those who seek power within the church by seeking positions of authority misunderstand the way of Jesus and the places of importance within the church.

What is the most important work of the church, and where is that work done? The most important work of the church is done in the actions and relationships of all of the members of the church. The most important work of the church is how all of us live and teach the love of Jesus. How do we love and serve one another? How do we heal the wounds of the world by caring for those around us? How do we help others have the peace of God that comes through trusting in Jesus? That is the great work of the church, and it is done by everyday Christians, regular folks. 

All of the perceived greatness within the church, the pastors, the priests, the bishops, all of their work is done to support the great work of the church, the work of everyday people living as Jesus’ disciples in our everyday lives. 

Where does that work come from? How is that work done? The great work of everyday Christians is done first and foremost by trusting in God. In all of the changes and chances of our lives, we find peace and belonging by seeking God’s wisdom from above. As James wrote, “the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.”

Our conflicts and disputes come from our cravings, even our cravings to be right, even our cravings to force others to be right and righteous. That’s wanting control over the world, wanting power and greatness. Rather than seek power and greatness, we are taught to submit ourselves to God. It may seem like getting our way would heal us, but it won’t. Like a kid getting medicine they doesn’t understand from their trusted parents, we are healed by trusting in God more than in ourselves.  

We Don't Have to Live That Way

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets
July 14, 2024
Proper 10, B
Amos 7:7-15
Psalm 85:8-13
Mark 6:14-29

King Herod had a right rough time of it, didn’t he? He was king of an occupied nation; semi-autonomous, kinda; and he was supposed to be leading his people according to the ways of God, even as he was trying to keep Rome happy and the people from rising up against Rome. He of course, then had his courtiers and officials to placate, his influence to maintain, all of which was meant to help him lead his people well according to the ways of God…giving Herod the benefit of the doubt.

With the pressure of all of those forces upon him, Herod seemed to be straying a bit from the ways of God. He wasn’t supposed to have married his brother’s wife, but hey, he was king. He had a lot of pressures on him. He had to be given some slack with such a big job. Then, when his wife wanted John imprisoned, well, he had to go along with what she wanted. He couldn’t have a split in his royal household, could he? How would that look to Rome and to his courtiers and officials? So then finally, when he gave his oath to Herodias’ daughter for anything she wanted and she asked for John’s head, how could he refuse? He had the pressures of all of these forces weighing on him, and John was, after all, just one weirdo, poor-boy prophet with no power or stature to compete with the powerful people of influence all around Herod. 

So, he had John executed for peacefully speaking out against the crown, beheaded on the whim of a young alluring girl and her mom. Trying to lead his people well, amidst so many powerful forces and the pressure of everything weighing on him, he led his people further down the path of destruction, going ever further from the ways of God in order to keep his people free to follow the ways of God. Oddly enough, God wasn’t particularly fond of that approach.

As with kings hundreds of years before him, God wasn’t overly fond of the powerful oppressing the week for the sake of some perceived greater good. If only Herod could keep the powerful and influential happy with him, then he’d have power enough to do the right things for Israel. Rather than be a light to those powerful and influential people, showing them a better way, and maybe disappointing them, however, Herod chose injustice and oppression. 

In the days of the prophet Amos, kings of Israel had been doing the same thing, and God had had enough of it then too. Amos starts with God’s indictments against. The nations around Israel, followed by an indictment against Israel herself, for the injustice and oppression she had been living. We heard part of God’s words against Israel for her injustice through the prophet Amos today. “See, I am setting a plumb line in the midst of my people Israel; I will never again pass them by; the high places of Isaac shall be made desolate, and the sanctuaries of Israel shall be laid waste, and I will rise against the house of Jeroboam with the sword.”

The king and the priest weren’t real thrilled with hearing that, and they threatened Amos. John wasn’t the first prophet who was condemned for speaking out against the injustices and atrocities of people in power, and Herod wasn’t the first leader to bow to the pressure upon him and do terrible things. He certainly wasn’t the last.

So, what about us and our lives? I think most of us could find plenty of leaders and rulers nowadays and apply this lesson to them. We could find all sorts of Herods doing all sorts of terrible things, turning away from the ways of God and following the ways of injustice, oppression, and bowing to pressures all around. I’d further guess that folks all along the political spectrum could hear my words thus far and think I’m preaching against the particular politicians or candidates they don’t like. 

I’m not. 

I’m not preaching for or against our governmental powers. They all have their place in seeking justice and wellbeing for all, but when I look for how to heal damage from the Herods in our world beheading the John the Baptists in our world, I don’t look to our government because Jesus didn’t set up our government to live out God’s mission in the world. Jesus set up his church to live out God’s mission. 

Jesus sent the Holy Spirit to us and to all of God’s church to live out God’s mission of justice, peace, reconciliation, and love. 

The work is ours to do with God’s help. Our challenges in doing the work are many. The pressures on us all are many. Families to care for. Jobs. Places to live. Much to lose. Friends and co-workers, family, neighbors, whom we want to keep good relationships with, and living out the work of God’s mission of justice, peace, reconciliation, and love can have challenges for all of that.

Heck, I offered a prayer on Facebook last night, which I almost never do. At this point, I tend to reserve Facebook for the proverbial cat videos, just offering something lighthearted and fun. After the assassination attempt on former president Trump last night, I offered prayers for him, giving thanks that he was ok, prayers for all who were keeping people safe, prayers for those who had died, and even prayers for the shooter. Prayers for peace, for love, and for healing. 

I got one comment on the prayer, which noted that I hadn’t offered prayers after the hurricane and other recent events, and so I was turning Trump into an idol. Now, I understand what he was saying. There’s a lot of folks who seem to think that if their candidate doesn’t win, the world will crumble. That’s not why I was offering that prayer. It was not about supporting Trump or not supporting Trump. I offered the prayer because I wanted to help lead people in prayer, particularly with so much anger and animosity in the nation today.

When I offered that prayer, I wasn’t turning Trump into an idol. In fact, the man who tried to kill Trump turned himself into an idol. The gunman had pressure on him. He apparently thought a Trump presidency wouldn’t be good, and he felt the pressure of that so intensely, that he went Herod’s route. He felt the world would be terrible if it didn’t go the way he knew was right, and so he decided to force his way on the world. It's not his world. It wasn’t Herod’s world. It’s not any of our world.

Whoever wins the presidency, I’m pretty sure it’s still gonna be God’s world. Our faith is in God, not in any presidential candidate, not in any government, and certainly not in ourselves to force our will and our way onto the world. That would be to turn ourselves into idols, which is what Herod did.

Faced with pressures from Rome, pressures from his own people, pressures from his family, pressures from his officers and courtiers, Herod decided to kill a man so that he could keep his own power and influence to try to make as much of the world go the way he wanted as possible. 

Where do we find good news in this story of Herod’s self-idolatry? We find good news in Herod being a dark, opposite reflection of the good news. We realize, we don’t have to live as Herod lived. 

We look to Jesus who chose not to force his will on the world. With the pressure of Rome threatening Israel, Jesus chose not to start an insurrection. He knew Rome was going to destroy the nation of Israel, and he let it happen. He’d been offered power over all of the nations of the world in his temptation by Satan in the wilderness, and Jesus turned that power down. He wasn’t going to force his way on the world through violence, and destruction, injustice, and oppression. 

Jesus chose instead to live the way of love, the way of justice, mercy, peace, and reconciliation. Jesus worked to invite and influence as many people as he could to join him in living the way of love, in living the way of justice, mercy, peace, and reconciliation. His faith wasn’t in Rome or any governmental power. His faith was in God and the ways of love that are God.

For us, our faith is not in any governmental power. Fearful as many are, fearful as some of us may be, that the country is going to hell in a handbasket or that if one person or another gets elected that the country will go to hell in a handbasket, we don’t have to bow to that fear and those pressures as Herod did. We don’t have to make ourselves into idols.

We can instead follow the way of Jesus. We can accept that the wrong people just may get elected. We can accept that terrible things may happen to institutions that we love. Our faith in not in those institutions, and it isn’t our world to force our will upon. We are not God. Our faith is not in ourselves and our own power. Our faith is in God, and we get to live the ways of God, the way of love, of justice, mercy, peace, and reconciliation. 

Sharing the Music that Is in Us

The Rev. Brad Sullivan

Lord of the Streets
March 17, 2024
5 Lent, Year B
Jeremiah 31:31-34
Psalm 51:1-13
John 12:20-33

Sharing the Music that Is in Us

Jesus’ response to the news that some Greeks were looking for him seems odd. Really, most of Jesus’ responses to people in John’s Gospel seem odd. In this case, his disciples tell him some Greeks are looking for him, and he says, “The hour has come for the son of man to be glorified.” 

Just before this, Jesus had come into Jerusalem, and huge crowds had been cheering for him. While he was riding into town, the Pharisees looked to one another and said, “You see, you can do nothing. Look, the whole world has gone after him.” The fact that some Greeks had come to speak to Jesus seems to confirm what the Pharisees said. “The whole world has gone after [Jesus].” As much as they’d wanted to keep the whole Jesus movement from spreading, the cat was officially out of the bag and there was no stopping it now.

They were right. Early church had no buildings or organized support. They could not worship in the synagogues, nor in the Roman temples, and yet the church, spread like wildfire. People believed in Jesus. They trusted him. They found healing in Jesus. They found love. So, they ministered to others out of that same love, offering that same healing. 

As God had said through the prophet Jeremiah, “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God. I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” People were loved, forgiven, and healed, and God’s law, God’s love, was written on their hearts. 

See, there’s hearing and learning about the way of God’s love, and then there’s living the way of God’s love. As a musician, I think about the practice that goes into playing songs, getting them fully under your fingers and into your voice. You practice, and practice, and practice, and eventually, you leave the practice room, and you play the songs for others. There’s risk in that, risk in offering that music to be received by others, but it’s also a beautiful offering. When you’ve worked at it so the music is written in your heart, then it’s a beautiful offering and sharing of song and story. 

I saw Guy Forsyth play a show last week, and boy does he play. He practices a lot, and then he risks the stage. He plays those songs written in his heart, and his risk is worth it. His connection to the audience is beautiful. The stories he tells through his music, the human connection he brings, receiving his offering of music is healing.

When the music is written in your heart, then you can play, you can risk, and that brings healing and love to the world.

That healing and love is what happens when the Gospel of Jesus is written in our hearts. We leave the practice room, we risk, we play, and that brings healing and love to the world. 

Jesus talked about the risk of playing the Gospel. “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies,” he said, “it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

Early followers of Jesus risked for the sake of the healing and love of the Gospel. They risked being kicked out of their synagogues, and they were kicked out of their synagogues. Gentiles risked being ostracized, and they were. 

The Gospel of Jesus demands risk. It demands being booed off stage, and if we are, ok. We practice some more, we allow the love and healing of Jesus to be written even more fully in our hearts, and we risk again. We risk not only for our sake, but for the sake of others.

We risk being peacemakers. We risk connection with one another. We risk offering the faith that is in us. We risk trusting in Jesus and following in his ways, rather than holding on so tightly to our lives out of fear of loss, that we end up hurting others and ourselves in the process. 

Our futures are uncertain. Jesus told us they would be. Following Jesus means risking that uncertainty. Jesus risked everything for our sake, for the sake of all people. “’Now is the judgment of this world;” Jesus said, “now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’ He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.” (John 12:33)

How did Jesus know that he would be raised and lifted up from the earth after he was crucified? My guess is he didn’t know it. He believed it. How did Jesus know that he would draw all people to himself? My guess is he didn’t know it. He believed it. How did he know that people wouldn’t simply forget, not believe, or ignore his life, message, and resurrection? My guess is he didn’t know it. He believed it. Jesus believed that people would receive his offering, receive his way of love and forgiveness. Jesus believed that people would receive the healing he offered and that they would then risk as he did to offer that same healing of forgiveness and love to others. 

Jesus believed in God, in forgiveness and love, and because of that belief, he risked everything for the sake of all humanity. He invites us, then to risk as well, for the sake of his Gospel and for the sake of humanity. Jesus invites us to risk for the sake of people who may hear, receive, and live the forgiveness and love of Jesus through the risks we take. Jesus invites us to risk forgiveness and love of others.

If we just talk about Jesus’ forgiveness and love to others, just tell people about it, then we’re really still in the practice room. If we mostly talk about Jesus’ Gospel, then I’m not sure it’s truly written on our hearts yet. When we live Jesus’ forgiveness and love, that’s when Jesus is written on our hearts. When we truly forgive and love others, that’s when we’re risking. Living Jesus’ forgiveness and love is when we’re out of the practice room and on stage, offering our music to others, making that connection, sharing the beauty and healing of the music that is in us.

The Oil of Courage, Faith, Hope, and Love

 The Rev. Brad Sullivan

Emmanuel Episcopal Church

November 8, 2020

Proper 27, A

1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

Matthew 25:1-13

The Oil of Courage, Faith, Hope, and Love

Keep oil in your lamps; be awake and ready for God’s kingdom coming among us at any time, in any situation.  There’s the basic lesson Jesus was teaching in his parable of the bridesmaids waiting upon the bridegroom, some of whom had extra oil for their lamps and some of whom did not, so that those who didn’t weren’t actually able to make it to the wedding feast.  

I have at times seen this as a fearful parable.  What if my oil runs out?  Oh no!  That fear certainly plays well in the world today where we seem to have messages of, never don’t be afraid, and always be on the look out for some new thing to fear.  Well, fear not.  Jesus is not adding one more thing to our list of things to fear.   Rather, Jesus is giving a loving reminder for us to remain prepared.  Keep your lamps full of oil, or as a modern Houstony example, keep your car gassed up during hurricane season.  Keep a mask at hand and on your face when you are outside of your home during this time of COVID-19.  Remain ready to accept, receive, and walk in God’s kingdom at whatever moment it may show itself or show itself again in your life.  Keep close at hand oil for your lamps, the oil of courage, faith, hope, and love.  

See, far from fear, attitudes of never don’t be afraid are the exact opposite of Jesus’ message in his parable.  If we’re always living in fear, then we are likely also always living in anger, and if we’re always living in fear and anger, then we’re not living in courage, faith, hope, and love.  Our oil lamps will have run dry.

Now, we get afraid and angry in our lives, of course we do.  We often have good reasons to be afraid and angry, but living in courage, faith, hope, and love we choose not to be overcome by that fear or anger.  We choose not to be overcome by fear or anger, because when we are overcome by fear and anger, we let the oil in our lamps run out, and we miss so many beautiful times when the bridegroom walks among us.  When we are overcome by fear and anger, the oil in our lamps runs out, and we miss when God’s kingdom happens in our lives.

Some folks have been overcome with fear and anger because Joe Biden was elected president last week, and prior to that, some folks were overcome with fear and anger when Donald Trump was elected president four years ago.  In both cases, with both our president-elect and our current president, some of our fear and anger is a natural reaction to things not going the way we want them to go.  For some, however, our fear and anger get us so worked up that our oil runs dry and we become afraid that it’s all coming to an end.  By the way, this last part about the president is quoted almost exactly from the sermon I preached four years ago:  copied, pasted, and edited.  

When we have so much fear and anger, that we lose our courage, faith, hope, and love and are instead overcome by our fear and anger, then we have let the oil in our lamps run out.  While the president and vice president do give many of us courage and hope, the source of our courage, faith, hope, and love need not be the person sitting in The White House, because the source of our courage, faith, hope, and love is a loving God in whom we have our hope, and who gives us courage and faith.  When we lose sight of God as that source that source be eclipsed by the person in The White House (or any other person) we let our oil run low and our lamps go out.  

We need our lamps lit because there is darkness in the world, and there are dark times in our lives.  Being overcome by anger and fear only adds to that darkness, and we cannot see when the bridegroom come into that darkness.  So, we keep our lamps lit to see during the times of darkness, and we keep our lamps lit by keeping them filled with the oil of courage, hope, faith, and love. 

One way some of us have been keeping our lamps lit recently is through praying daily and meeting weekly together (over Zoom) to strive for justice.  This began a couple months ago with a conference on racial justice put on by the Episcopal Health Foundation.  Several of us from Emmanuel attended the conference from our homes, sitting on Zoom calls in front of our computers, and we decided to continue meeting to pray, and discuss, and learn together how we could strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being.  Part of that work is, when we see injustice, not to be overcome by fear and anger, but to keep our lamps lit with courage, faith, hope, and love.  

One of the folks in this group shared an article with me about two pastors who strive together for justice with their lamps lit.  The Reverend William Barber and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove were unlikely friends when they met:  Jonathan, a young white man from a deeply conservative church in the heart of former Klan country and William, a black preacher who strives and works for social and racial justice.  

Jonathan was 17 at the time and associated his faith with right-wing politics, and so he went to Washington to page in Senator Strom Thurmand’s office.  “When [he] came back,” he said “[he] was very disillusioned.  [He’d] been told about how people [in Washington] were representing [their] values and standing up for Christian faith, [but that was not what he found] life in a senator’s office…to really be about. It was mostly,” he said, “about lobbyists coming in and saying what their interests were, and trying to keep wealthy people happy.”

He was rather disillusioned after that, but instead of being overcome by fear and anger, he kept his lamp lit, and shortly thereafter, he heard Reverend Barber preach at an event in North Carolina.  He said he “immediately recognized someone who shared [his] faith, but who lived it out very differently than [he] had ever seen.”  So, with all of the courage and chutzpa of an enthusiastic 17 year old, he asked Reverend Barber to speak at his upcoming graduation.   

Now, Reverend Barber had no intention of speaking at this kid’s graduation in the middle of Klan country, but he said, “Ok, if I get an invitation, I’d be glad to come.”  So he got an invitation.  At that point, put up or shut up time, he could have been overcome by fear and anger, and he was afraid, but he had given his word, so he agreed to go.  His lamp was still burning with courage, faith, hope, and love.  

He spoke at their graduation, was invited over for dinner afterwards by Jonathan’s mother, and they shared some transformative time together.  Years later, they reconnected, and they began working together for social and racial justice and healing bringing people of all races and classes together.  They’ve worked to bring greater equality and justice to the people of North Carolina, and their work continues to this day.  

What if when they had met, they had been overcome with fear or anger, and their lamps had not been lit?  They would not have seen the bridegroom.  They would not have recognized the kingdom of God coming alive in those moments, and they would have missed the opportunity to become brothers and to strive together for justice and healing.  

Thankfully, their lamps were lit, and they had a good supply of the oil of courage, faith, hope, and love.  Be not afraid, that oil told them, and they found even more courage, faith, hope, and love in each other.  

See, we can and do find oil for our lamps in each other.  Our friends and family can provide that oil.  Public figures, authors, musicians, teachers, folks who are experts in their fields of study or work can all provide us with the oil of courage, faith, hope, and love.  Additionally, those who are downtrodden and oppressed and are not overcome by fear and anger can provide us with oil.  Those who strive for justice and peace can provide us with oil for our lamps.  Even presidents and vice presidents of the United States can provide us with oil for our lamps.  

None of these people, though, need to be the source of our courage, strength, hope, and love because we believe in a higher power than any of them.  We believe in God who is the source of all courage, faith, hope, and love.  We keep the oil for our lamps full by continually reaching out to God in prayer.  We keep the oil for our lamps full through service to one another and through fellowship and joy with one another.  We keep the oil for our lamps full by seeking justice and mercy in the lives of the world around us.  

With this oil in our lamps, we can continue walking in courage even when disillusioned.  We can keep hope alive, through faith in God and the resurrection of Jesus, and we can continue to give and to live love for all people.  

That is the oil which we keep in our lamps so that come what may, in dark days and in times of joy and plenty, we are still walking in the light, ready for the many times and ways that Jesus and God’s kingdom come among us to lead us with courage into even greater hope, and faith, and love.  So fear not, and do not be overcome by fear and anger.  Through God and through countless others, through prayer, fellowship, justice, and mercy, keep your lamps full of oil and walk in the light of God’s courage, faith, hope, and love.