title: Jacob's Grappling Technique

themes: wrestling-with-god perseverance-in-faith doubt-and-struggle weakness-as-strength not-alone-in-suffering surrender-and-grace

text:
**Scripture:** Genesis 32:22-31; Matthew 14:13-21

> Preached on Jacob wrestling the angel at the Jabbok (paired with the feeding of the 5,000), the sermon draws on Wilson's own experience training Brazilian jiu-jitsu to argue that Jacob's 'technique' was not skill or strength but sheer refusal to let go. Woven throughout are stanzas of Charles Wesley's hymn 'Come, O Thou Traveler Unknown,' reframing the whole life of faith as an ongoing wrestling match with God in which holding on -- not winning, not mastering technique -- is the point, and even that capacity to hold on is itself a gift of the Spirit's presence. The angel's inexplicable 'thigh lock' becomes an image of encountering the truly supernatural at the point of human limitation, where surrender opens into grace, echoed in the sending toward Communion.

**Illustrations:** ukulele-rear-naked-choke-intro, bjj-judo-history, royce-gracie-first-ufc, failing-for-a-long-time, judo-samurai-peacemaking, jack-reacher-sized-opponent, wesley-wrestling-jacob-hymn, no-rocky-montage, jesus-gethsemane-wrestling, woman-clings-to-jesus, boy-loaves-and-fishes, angels-thigh-lock

---

# August 2, 2026
## Ordinary Time
## Genesis 32:22-31	Matthew 14:13-21

#### Genesis 32:22-31

The same night he got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok.
He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had.
Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.
When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him.
Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.”
So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.”
Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.”
Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him.
So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.”
The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

#### Matthew 14:13-21

Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns.
When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.
When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”
Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.”
They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.”
And he said, “Bring them here to me.”
Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds.
And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.
And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

## A Ukulele and a Rear Naked Choke

Before we arrived at Covenant a few years ago, I made a little video on a ukulele that some of you may remember. And if you never saw it, I can share it again on our Facebook page. It was a way to just introduce myself and my family. One of the things I mentioned was how my family practices this strange martial art called Brazilian jiu-jitsu — and all of us can do a rear naked choke.

And I mean, we still do, but to various degrees of interest. It's more of a discipline than a pastime — showing up when we can. And some days you feel great, you do great, and some days you don't and you just get smashed and you start again afresh. And even when people are smashing your face in, they want the best for you.

It's a strange, strange environment.

---

## Where It Came From

So if you don't know any of it — Brazilian jiu-jitsu is this martial art that's kind of an adaptation of judo, which came to Brazil in the early 20th century, especially in the ports of northern Brazil. It was adapted by a number of Brazilians who had some other folk martial arts, mixed them together, and really focused especially on the ground. That so much of a fight starts when you're standing but finishes on the ground. So what if you make a dominant ground game, a dominant position?

It became popular in the United States especially, and in many parts of the world, in the '90s in the first UFC event — the Ultimate Fighting Championship. The first one had these big wrestlers and brawlers and boxers and karate and things like that — and it was won by this kind of older Brazilian dude in a gi, Royce Gracie. He looked like he was wearing pajamas.

He wasn't even the best fighter in his family. He was the one who showed up.

He was the one who showed up, and he won by this weird stuff on the ground.

---

## Failing for a Long Time

When I first started, I was the last one in my family. I was pretty freaked out and scared. And one of the humbling aspects of it was realizing — okay, once I do this, once I step out, that means I am going to be failing for a long time before I get any traction.

It's incredibly humbling. Like the first time somebody does something to you and it's like magic. Like, how did they— wait, how do you have an armbar? Where'd that come from? How are you choking me?

Training jiu-jitsu helped me to understand judo in the Olympics and wrestling much better — understanding the tactics and the strategies. Judo and wrestling are both ways to get someone down to the mat. What do you do there? That is Jiu-Jitsu. Guard play, sweeps, arm bars, chokes, foot locks. And it kind of blends together in this kind of way. And what's interesting is that it's this puzzle, this problem-solving. It's not violence for violence's sake.

The history of judo is very interesting in this peacemaking way. When Japan opened up and the Tokugawa period ended in the mid-19th century, suddenly there's all these samurai that all their life has been about war, and their way of life is gone. And judo kind of emerges as this syncretistic — this mixture of a bunch of different training techniques for samurai to kind of stay in shape and not kill each other. Actually, from the beginning, it had a nonviolent core to it.

Grappling is this catch all term that covers wrestling, Jiu-Jitsu, no-gi judo, catch wresling.

---

## So What Was Jacob's Technique?

So all of that to say is, when it comes to this passage of Genesis, what I'd never thought about before until a few weeks ago was: _what is Jacob's grappling technique?_

Because there's a lot of different techniques. Like, how— what was his training?

Now, before I had trained jiu-jitsu, I would have assumed — you know, Jacob's not the one who went for the hunting. He's not the burly one. He's the one who likes to— he's the mama's boy. He probably wouldn't be that good of a fighter. It comes from nowhere.

But one of the great things about jiu-jitsu is you can't know how good somebody is unless you actually roll with them. You can't judge them by how they look.

I know that because people can't judge me by how I look. And that was one of the strangest realities — at one point realizing how, like, when somebody comes in and they've never trained before, it doesn't matter how big and strong they are. They could be six-five, two-fifty, all muscle like Jack Reacher, and I would easily handle them.

Jacob doesn't have to be the biggest and the strongest to dominate, or at least hold his own, against the angel.

---

## Wrestling to a Draw

It's such a powerful scene in Genesis. I think it's one of my favorite passages in the entire scripture, Jacob wrestling with the angel to a draw, and how much a life of faith is like that. Charles Wesley wrote a great hymn on it.

Come, O Thou Traveler unknown,
Whom still I hold but cannot see;
My company before is gone,
And I am left alone with Thee;
With Thee all night I mean to stay,
And wrestle till the break of day.

You know, we kind of hope and expect and like — okay, I go to church. I believe in God. I do these things. Therefore, all the struggle should be behind me. The challenges should be behind me.

I need not tell Thee who I am,
My sin and misery declare;
Thyself hast called me by my name,
Look on Thy hands, and read it there;
But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou?
Tell me Thy name, and tell me now.

But they're not. This world keeps on popping up these annoying challenges that make me question myself, question the people around me, question my ability. Sometimes even question faith. The wrestling. Would a good God do this? Why don't I have an answer? And points in our life worth giving up can strikes us quickly. We pray and pray and do not receive the kind of response we want. We ask God for assurance and receive further doubt. We ask God for healing and receive worse news.

Yield to me now, for I am weak,
But confident in self-despair;

What a line. Confident in self-despair. Or as a contemporary poet put it:  all I have in life is my new appetite for failure. But that is not the end for Charles Wesley or Jesus. He goes.

Speak to my heart, in blessings speak,
Be conquered by my instant prayer;
Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move,
And tell me if Thy name be Love.

---

## Jesus Wrestles Too

We see the wrestling in Jesus. We see in the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus wrestling with God. Jesus as God. Jesus, the second person of the Trinity. Jesus _is_ God. There isn't sin in questioning. There isn't sin in asking why. You're not bad if you do it. There isn't seen in being weak or struggling.

My strength is gone, my nature dies,
I sink beneath Thy weighty hand,
Faint to revive, and fall to rise;
I fall, and yet by faith I stand;
I stand and will not let Thee go
Till I Thy Name, Thy nature know.

---

## No Rocky Montage

Did Jacob train before he wrestled the angel? Is it off the page? Jacob doing his Rocky montage scene — he's punching the sides of beef hanging in the freezer, draining the blood. He's running up the hills. He's eating that high-protein diet. Getting plenty of macros.

*Sing the Rocky theme.*

But he ultimately doesn't need it, because Jacob's wrestling is not about himself.

What he does is he doesn't give up. It's not about technique. Its really grit.

Jacob faces a challenge and doesn't give up. He holds on, not knowing what is going to happen at the end.

In vain Thou strugglest to get free,
I never will unloose my hold!
Art Thou the Man that died for me?
The secret of Thy love unfold;
Wrestling, I will not let Thee go,
Till I Thy name, Thy nature know.

---

## What Jesus Came to Do

When Jesus is feeding the five thousand, He's offering food to those who have come to hear him preach. He gives a tool for endurance. He does not forget about those who came to him. He does not leave them behind.

But Jesus doesn't feed every crowd he sees. He went where he went, and not everywhere — which seems unfair to us today. Jesus didn't heal every ailment that he came across, which seems unfair to us today.

The point of Jesus walking among us, teaching and healing, was not to take away every burden, but to reveal who God is for us.

To become a Christian, to make that decision for Jesus — however you're able to do it — it's not about no longer having any burdens or challenges or struggles. It's also not about your training and technique. It's not about how many Bible verses you memorized as a kid.

It comes down to that encounter with the divine.

---

## Can You Hold On?

In the midst of a world which crashes into us with a cacophony of expectations, ideas, ideals, challenges, sins, joys — all of it crashing in on us — that encounter with the Divine: **can you hold on?**

It's not about winning. You're not going to dominate the angel. You're not going to dominate this life.

**Can you hold on?**

And the real secret is that even in that holding on, it's not about us. That we're only able to hold on because God was already with us. The Holy Spirit was already present with us, and the Holy Spirit is present with those around us in our community, giving them the strength to hold on.

And what the abundant life offered by Jesus Christ is — it's not the one free of challenges, but the one that reframes all those challenges and realizes these aren't the things that kill the soul.
I do not need to fear it. I do not need to let it control me. Then let it go.

---

## The Ones Who Didn't Let Go

That is Jacob's grappling technique. He didn't quit. He didn't let go of God.

It's the woman who comes up to Jesus whose child is sick. She clung to him and didn't let go, and her daughter was healed.

The boy who offers what he has to Jesus and ends up feeding a large crowd. He did not give up. He offered what he had. That is what Jesus calls us to do. Not to give of what we don't possess. Not to be people we can never be.

I know Thee, Saviour, who Thou art.
Jesus, the feeble sinner’s friend;
Nor wilt Thou with the night depart.
But stay and love me to the end,
Thy mercies never shall remove;
Thy nature and Thy Name is Love.

To call oneself a feeble sinner seems like hater's talk. You gotta pump yourself up. Be kind to yourself, etc.. Instead, when we face the limits of who we are and what we have done, we can step into the freedom of Christ's mercy. Jesus, the feeble sinner's friend. We are seen and received. The grappling we have done in this world has not been in vain, even if we lost over and over again.

The angel submits Jacob in a strange way: a Thigh Lock. There isn't a technique for that in Jiu Jitsu. I can tear a person's knee apart with a heel hook or a knee bar. I can tear sprain their ankle with an ankle lock or rip their Achilles with a calf-slicer. I can't do anything to the thigh. It is a truly supernatural submission.

Our bodies breakdown however old we are. These bodies which give us so much strength and confidence in different seasons, also offer the clearest reminder of our weakness and limitation. We can defend against any attack, and then someone pulls out a supernatural thigh lock and we lose. But in that loss is our gain.

Contented now upon my thigh
I halt, till life's short journey end;
All helplessness, all weakness I
On Thee alone for strength depend;
Nor have I power from Thee to move:
Thy nature, and Thy name is Love.

*All helplessness, all weakness, I on thee alone for strength depend.* The freedom offered when you release the desire to save yourself and those around you, and receive love undeserved from the Lord of all creation, who shows up in the still small places, but is always with you.

---

## Sending

So, my brothers and sisters, as we move to a new season — as someday the heat will end — may you remember that you're not alone.

God is there for you in the challenges, and they're probably gonna come. They're gonna bubble up. There's gonna be hard stuff each of us has to face, but we're not alone.

And it's not always going to end up how we wanted, how we thought, how we expected, how we thought being a Christian would make us feel or do.

But we are not alone. We don't need to give up.

'Tis Love! 'tis Love! Thou diedst for me!
I hear Thy whisper in my heart;
The morning breaks, the shadows flee,
Pure, universal love Thou art;
To me, to all, Thy mercies move;
Thy nature and Thy Name is Love.

---

## At the Table

We're offered life at this table.

The life Jesus offered for us, given here. The strange action of a hundred-some-odd people looking at this bread and juice and calling it the body and blood — because God is real and here for us.

Take and eat. Tase and see that the Lord is good.

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


site: sermons

title: Justice

author: Wilson Pruitt

church: covenant-umc

series: Epiphany

themes: justice-and-righteousness beatitudes practice-before-theory wesleyan-general-rules grace-not-merit ordinary-faithfulness

scripture: Micah 6:6-8; Matthew 5:1-12

text:
**Scripture:** Micah 6:6-8; Matthew 5:1-12
**Series:** Epiphany

> Preached February 1, 2026 in Epiphany, this sermon on Micah 6:6-8 and the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-12) argues that justice is a cultivated virtue rooted in practice, not abstract theory. Drawing on Aquinas, MacIntyre, and his own translation of the Beatitudes (rendering makarios as 'happy'), Pruitt contends Jesus inverts worldly meritocratic justice: we are loved where we are, yet not left there. He maps Wesley's General Rules onto Micah 6:8 and points to true justice residing not in any worldly system but at the cross, inviting the congregation to the table as Lent approaches.

**Illustrations:** teaching-kids-poker, aquinas-pious-old-woman, changing-account-of-faith, potter-stewart-know-it-when-i-see-it, personal-justice-system-experiences, macintyre-justice-as-virtue, wesley-general-rules-micah, hiker-goes-his-own-way

---

# February 1, 2026
## Micah 6:6-8 Matthew 5:1-12
### Justice

“With what shall I come before the Lord
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?”
He has told you, O mortal, what is good,
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice and to love kindness
and to walk humbly with your God? - Micah 6:6-8

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. And he began to speak and taught them, saying:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. - Matthew 5:1-12

We are getting to the point in our boys life where we teach them card games from time to time. For example, different games of poker, not that I’m condoning gambling. I am still advocate of the historic Methodist position against gambling, which, if you’d like to have a discussion about, I be more than happy to.

I teach my kids, though, the different games of poker so they grow up into the world and not be out of place. How to play blackjack for instance. Or how to play Texas Hold ‘Em. In both instances, it is helpful to start playing the game really fast so they understand even what questions to have. If we spend too much time on concepts, nobody wants to actually play the game. The point of the game is not an opportunity to learn some new rules.

Last week, I spoke about the light of justice shining on our hearts as well as outside of ourselves, and the power of God to break the rod of injustice. This week we're going to just talk about justice.

Some people talk about putting theory before practice, but I don't think that actually follows the pattern of our lived experiences. We can only theorize after we do something, after we act—not before. Theories help us to understand. Some of us have completely untheorized lives, and I think that's perfectly okay.
One writer I appreciate[^1] has this line about how all of theology is trying to articulate what one pious old woman believes in her heart. Theology is not the point of faith, no matter what kids in seminary say. Theology helps us to look to the object of our faith, God. And as another teacher of mine once said, if you need a theory to believe that Jesus rose from the dead, believe in that theory—don't believe in Jesus.

So when we talk about justice, I think it's important for us to start with: What are we doing, and where are we coming from?
We have our readings today, both central texts of the Christian faith. First, Micah 6:8: "What does the Lord require from us? To do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God." We have the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount—the Beatitudes—which offer this brief and poetic articulation of how to act justly in a way that is paradoxical in our world.
So what does it all mean?
Now, like I said, you don't have to theorize in order to be a Christian. Our belief is in Jesus Christ, not in theories about Jesus Christ. The reason for theology and theorizing about God in Jesus is to make sure we're worshiping the right God. It's idolatry prevention as well. It's to help share our faith, to make sure that we can give an account—in the language of Paul, to always be able to give an account for our faith—and to articulate it in our own words. What are we even believing?
Being able to give an account is, I think, a lifelong journey.

My account of faith at 43 is different than it was at 23, which is different than it was at 8. I'm blessed to have believed all my life, and that's not the case for a lot of people. Their accounts of faith are different because of their experiences. I had moments of struggle with faith that led me to a deeper appreciation of who God is and what God has done for us.
I think we should understand justice in a similar way. Justice, so often, is unarticulated. In the words of Potter Stewart over a different topic, we know it when we see it, and we know when we don't see it. And yet when we don't articulate justice, we are left open for distortion and manipulation by unjust people.

When we're talking about justice—wherever we are, in a secular or philosophical concept—it's embedded within a tradition of both ideas and practices. Justice isn’t simply a theory. It is what people do and what actually takes place. The justice system of the United States of America is embedded within federal laws, state laws, the precedent of former cases, and the practices on the ground on that virtue. All of these inform our understanding of justice.

But we each have an experience of the justice system.
Mine is very minimal. I've testified—or almost signed up to testify—in family court once, and in a different county court before. I've never been called for jury duty. I've gotten pulled over a few times, once every five years. Hopefully it's once ever again.

Those are my interactions with the justice system. I've had cops come over to ask about our fire burning in the backyard, to see if it was contained. It was. These are my personal experiences of the justice system.
Many of you have had different experiences, and that impacts your ideas of justice in America.
When we think about justice in the Bible, we need to understand that our experiences inform that understanding as well—how we were raised informs that as well. What we see others experience also informs that.
Justice, in a biblical understanding, is part of a virtue tradition. It's not just about an idea; it's about cultivation. It's about a set of habits and practices of giving each person their due.
Alasdair MacIntyre, this great philosopher who just passed away, talked about justice as a virtue in three ways:

- Desert-based claims: People deserve certain things based on their roles, contributions, and needs within a community.
- Participation in practices: Justice relates to the goods internal to social practices and how they're distributed.
- The common good: Justice is oriented toward enabling human flourishing within communities, not just protecting individual rights.

Justice as a virtue is not simply a negation, but an offering.
Justice, if we follow the Ten Commandments, is mostly negative: Don't do this, don't do that. Whereas justice in the New Testament is positive: Love God. Love your neighbor. Forgive those who hurt you.
When we go slowly through the Sermon on the Mount, it becomes even stranger to articulate—especially when we compare faith to worldly justice.

Here is my translation of the beatitudes

3. Happy (Μακάριοι) the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of the heavens.
4. Happy those mourning, for they will be comforted.
5. Happy the mild (πραεῖς), for they will inherit the land (γῆν).
6. Happy the hungering ones and the thirsting ones for justice (δικαιοσύνην), for they will be filled.
7. Happy the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
8. Happy the clean (καθαροὶ) in heart, for they will see God.
9. Happy the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God.
10. Happy those having been persecuted on account of justice, for theirs is the kingdom of the heavens.
11. Happy are you when they shall assault you, and should persecute, and shall say all evil against you, lying on account of me.
12. Take pleasure (χαίρετε) and rejoice exceedingly (ἀγαλλιᾶσθε), for your wages.

One of the ways that Jesus inverts our expectations of justice can be understood in how Jesus transforms are understanding of the goal of justice. By that, I mean, that Jesus transforms our understanding of what happiness is. I translated the Greek word Makarios, as happy because that comes closer to the meaning of the word in Jesus’s time. The archaic use of blessèd that was chosen by the translators of the king James Bible offers a poetry to this passage, but it is a poetry that makes it distant for us. The Bible isn’t there to remind us of our childhood, but to reveal God to us here and now. God’s offer of life abundant to us now, and in the future through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

We always have to start where we are. Even if we would rather be somewhere else in our life, we have to start where we are. The justice of the God revealed in Jesus Christ is that here and now your life matters. You are loved not because of what you’ve done of where you’ve been or who you know. The false meritocracy of the world is revealed as a sham. We all try to get by, however we can, but that does not define us or offer us justice. Those who work hardest? Do not get the most out of life. Those who grind are often the same ones who are ground to dust. Where you are now? You are loved. You are loved so much that God won’t let you stay there. That is what it’s so amazing about God justice.

Faith isn’t about affirming all the decisions we’ve made or washing away all the mistakes we’ve made. Faith is believing more in Jesus than we believe in ourselves. God loves us so much not to leave us to our patterns of destruction. And God loves us so much to not put the burden of saving the world on our shoulders. The world needs saving. We look around today and it is still the case. That calls each of us to respond in the ways in which we are able to. But our response only makes sense because of the prior action of God in our life. We were already loved by God. As sinners, as those unworthy of love, as those who have fallen short, we were offered another way. Micah 6:8 points to that way: do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with God.

When John Wesley put together the general rules of the United societies in the 1730s and 40s, he really was riffing  on Micah 6:8.

Micah says, “do justice.” John Wesley says, “first, do no harm.” Make sure you are not actively harming anyone. This isn’t about being nice but about loving our neighbors enough to see how we are treating them.

Micah says, “Love mercy.” Wesley says, “Do all the good you can, which is a mercy. The maximum good. is mercy. When we don’t know what else to do, let us do what good we can.

Finally, Micah says, “Walk humbly with God.” John Wesley says, “follow the ordinances of God.” Do the things God told us to do. Do the things Jesus told us to do. that is walking humbly with God. There’s a lack of humility to say that I have my own path.

If you’re going on a hike, and someone says, “I’m gonna go my own way.” Would anyone credit that as humility? No. It makes the hike much more difficult for everyone when people refuse to walk together.

We come to church we pray together, we serve together, we give together, because of who God is. There would probably be easier things that we could do if we just decided to choose whatever we were going to do, but that is not the path.

We have to start where we are. But God doesn’t start there. God began before we were born. And the brokenness of this world points, not to the weakness of God, but to our need of a savior. The justice of God is not found in any system of the world, but on a hill far away. As we get closer to the Season of Lent, may we remember where true justice resides. May we not be afraid to live it in our lives. May come to the table ready to receive from the one who laid down his life for us.

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

[^1]: Thomas Aquinas

method: authored, not translated

license_apparatus: CC BY-NC 4.0


title: Light of the World

themes: light-of-christ good-works hypocrisy truth-telling ordinary-faithfulness fasting grace

text:
**Scripture:** Matthew 5:13-20; Isaiah 58:5-8; Ephesians 2:8; Matthew 7:3-5; John 8:7; Ecclesiastes 3:1
**Series:** Epiphany

> Preached the Sunday before Lent, this sermon pairs Isaiah's call to fasting-as-justice with Jesus' Sermon on the Mount declaration that disciples are the light of the world. Wilson emphasizes the possessive 'your light'—each person has a light worth shining—and identifies that light as good works, which Jesus shows rather than defines. The heart of the message is that Jesus tolerated sinners but had no patience for hypocrites; being light therefore begins with integrity, meaning what we say and not overcommitting. Using fire imagery, the rear-guard promise, and Ecclesiastes' seasons, he urges hearers to start small where they are (even 'I'm not going to lie today') and grow by grace, shining the particular light God created each of them to be.

**Illustrations:** colorado-bend-burn-ban, fuel-oxygen-spark, prometheus-maui-azazel-loki, headlamp-rear-vulnerability, rear-guard-flank, do-what-i-say-parenting, family-values-pastor-abuser, church-leavers-hypocrisy-survey, not-going-to-lie-today

---

# February 8, 2026
## Isaiah 58:5-8 Matthew 5:13-20
### Light of the World

Is such the fast that I choose,
a day to humble oneself?
Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush
and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?
Will you call this a fast,
a day acceptable to the Lord?
Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you;
the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. - Isaiah 58:5-8

“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything but is thrown out and trampled under foot. “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. People do not light a lamp and put it under the bushel basket; rather, they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. - Matthew 5:13-20

We went camping a few weeks ago as a family, before the hard freeze, but it was still fairly cold. We went to Colorado Bend State Park, which is a little north of Llano. And there was still a burn ban going on, so we couldn’t build a fire, which was unfortunate.

Building a fire is one of the best parts about camping. A group of people coupe stare at a fire longer than they stare at their phones. It is mesmerizing.

Fascination with fire transcends language and culture. Greece had the myth of Prometheus stealing fire from the gods because it seems like a divine object. Polynesian myths have Maui bringing fire to the world. In the Book of Enoch, the fallen angel, Azazel teaches humans fire. Loki steals the fire in Norse mythology.

You need a spark to light a fire. Fire has three components, as I tell my kids and anyone who will listen to me talk about fire: there’s fuel, oxygen, and a spark. And then we’ve got fire.

Even with our candles for Christmas Eve—you need those three components, or else there is no fire. The spark, in fact, can come from the other candles.

We’re preparing for the Season of Lent, which is coming up in a little over a week. This passage from Isaiah was often read during Lent. It grounds our understanding of fasting for Lent.

The fast we choose is God’s justice. The fast we choose is being light—shining our light.

What struck me this week about this passage here in Isaiah, and then again in Matthew, is the possessive nature of the light that both Isaiah and Jesus speak about. We aren’t speaking of light in a general sense. It is my light. It is your light.

What this assumes is that each of us has a light to shine. That’s step one: you have a light to shine. I’m not even talking about what that light is, how you can find it, how you can grow it—any of that. You have a light to shine. You have a light that’s worth shining.

If I’m shining a flashlight or headlamp in front of me, I can see in front of me. I can’t see behind me. I’m vulnerable in the back. One of my kids could sneak up behind, grab me, and say, “Got You!” And then I would have to concede that I was got.

But Isaiah has a helpful word on this: “The glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard.”

Rear guard is a military term for the units that protect the rear flank of a military position, especially when they’re marching. When an army is marching, you want most of them doing such marching in one direction. But that opens up a vulnerability on the flanks for an enemy army to engage them.

The rear guard is a force designed to protect the rear, so that the rest of the unit can look forward.

It is an act of faith to believe that God is our rear guard. Our confidence in God frees us to be light for the world.

And we do that by remaining in the very context of the Sermon on the Mount.

>“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. People do not light a lamp and put it under the bushel basket; rather, they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Jesus even defines what our light is. It’s the good works.

Now, different Christians have read this passage in different ways, because Paul has some other language around good works that seems to contradict this. Paul says that we are not saved through works—For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God

But that’s not what Jesus is talking about here. Jesus isn’t talking about salvation. Jesus is talking about how we should live our lives right now. How are we responding to God right now? What is the possibility—the way of life—for us?

“Show your good works before others.” Is what he says.

Okay, so we’re light, right? We’re all a light. We get that part. Then it begs the question: Well, what is the light?

As Jesus says, the light is the good works that we do, which shine out before others.

Okay. Well, what is a good work? How do we define it?

In this way, Jesus is offering us a less than straightforward path of living. Jesus doesn’t define a good work the way that he defines light. Jesus shows us. Jesus shows us by how he lives—by those whom he welcomed, by those whom he served, by those whom he rebuked.

The biggest rebukes of Jesus were not for the greatest sinners, but for hypocrites. Jesus had an amazing tolerance for sinners and an amazing intolerance for hypocrites.

The moment we begin to take our faith seriously—whatever the age—what we should focus on is meaning what we say. The Gospels show us this again and again: hypocrisy is what Jesus hates. Sinners? He has all the time in the world for sinners.

So often the church today, and the church historically, has focused so much on sin and ignored hypocrisy. When we read the Gospels—if you listen to how Christians talk, you would think that Jesus’s biggest concern is personal behavior, cussing, things of that nature.

But what Jesus does in the Gospels is different: he not only seeks the sinners, he loves them, forgives them—he seeks the sick, seeks the impure—and he has got no time for the hypocrites. Those who say one thing with their mouths and do another thing with their actions. Which is why, to be light, we need to start there.

There’s an old parenting line: “Do what I say, not what I do.” And it’s a joke, and it’s funny, but it points to the ways that if we believe that Jesus is the way and the truth and the life, then how we speak deeply matters. And we should discipline our language so that we speak only what we can truthfully follow through on.

This is what Jesus is getting at later on in the Sermon of the Mount when he says, “Don’t point out the speck in your neighbor’s eye when you’re ignoring the log in your own eye.” It’s hypocrisy. The speck in your neighbor’s eye is real—he’s not saying that it’s good to have a speck in your eye. It’s the same thing he means in the Gospel of John, when he holds back the crowd that was stoning the woman: “Let ye who is without sin cast the first stone.”

The judgmentalism that many see in modern Christians is integrally connected to hypocrisy.  In surveys of people who have left the church, the number one reason is almost always hypocrisy or judgmental ism of Christians. And we see this all the time. Every few years there’s a politician who talks about family values and then has an affair with one of their staffers. There’s a pastor who preaches about what Jesus would do and then embezzles $50,000. There’s someone given responsibility to care for young people who abuses it. Hypocrisy. It goes on and on.

We’ve got to start where we are and commit. That is the path that Jesus offers. That is the narrow path. And we do it by grace. It’s by grace that we don’t need to overcommit in our life, in our faith.

Being light is about being truthful in how we live our lives and how we speak. Not being a hypocrite. Seeking to not be a hypocrite. Not claiming something beyond what we are currently doing.

This is how it starts. It can be a small light. It can be, “I’m not going to lie today.” That’s it. All the other sins are their own battles—but I’m not going to lie today. It starts somewhere, on this ground floor of where we are in our own struggle. That is light. That is the light, so that people look and say, “That person is different. They’re not lying like the others. They’re not claiming something they’re not.”

And it grows. It grows because God is with us, because we are not alone. And there’s a season for it. As Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes: “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” There’s a season for us to focus on different aspects of our life. There’s a season for us to grow. There’s a season for us to just stay still. There’s a season for us to give and give and give. There’s a season for us to receive. There’s a season for us to call out the people in our lives. There’s a season for us to be called out.

And yet, if we start where we are with God—with meaning what we say—that light will keep burning, and it will make an impact. Not because of how awesome we are, but because of who God is for us.

Go forth and be light as you have been called to be light. Not the way I have been called. Not the way the person next to you has been called. The way you have been called to be light. Start where you are and grow from there and share from there. Don’t try to be someone you’re not, but who God created you to be: a beloved child of God, worthy of love, with purpose in this world—a sinner in need of redemption, who has been offered life at the foot of the cross.

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


title: Maundy Thursday

series: Lent

themes: new-commandment foot-washing holy-communion humility incarnation

text:
**Scripture:** 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-17; John 13:31-35; Deuteronomy 6:4-5; Leviticus 19:18; Exodus 20:1-17
**Series:** Lent

> A Maundy Thursday sermon on 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 and John 13, framed by the meaning of 'mandatum'—Christ's new commandment to love one another, stripped of the comparative 'as yourself.' Wilson contrasts communion's low barrier of entry with foot washing's high one, arguing both are tactile encounters with the incarnate God who is love. He probes how pride runs both ways (refusing to serve and refusing to be served) and the 'lines' we draw around our behavior, insisting Jesus says not 'do this or go to hell' but 'do this in remembrance of me.' The commandment changes us, not God, freeing a life from sin and pride for the concrete work of loving and serving—even enemies.

**Illustrations:** mandatum-etymology, open-communion-invitation, shoes-off-line-we-wont-cross, groceries-help-pride

---

# April 2, 2026
## Maundy Thursday
## 1 Corinthians 11:23-26	John 13:1-17, 31b-35
##

#### 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread,
and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”
For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

#### John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.
The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper
Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God,
got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself.
Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.
He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”
Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”
Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.”
Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!”
Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.”
For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”
After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you?
You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am.
So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.
For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.
Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them.
If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.
When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.
If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once.
Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’
I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.
By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Something new is taking place this day. Something that none of the disciples have ever experienced.
Christ leaves for his friends a new commandment, a new mandate. This is why the day is called Maundy Thursday. It is from the Latin mandatum, a translation of the Greek entôle
A new commandment I leave to you: love one another.
Earlier in the gospels, Jesus was asked: What is the greatest commandment? He responded with the Shema: Here, Oh Israel. The Lord your God is one. You shall love the Lord with all your heart and all your soul, and all your mind, and all your strength. And this is also the greatest. He then quotes from Leviticus 19, you shall love your neighbor as yourself.
When Jesus says, a new commandment I give to you, he's not making something up from scratch. There is clear continuity between the love commandments and John 13. What is absent is the self. We no longer have any comparative in love. We no are longer asked to love as ourselves.
We have, instead, the example of how Christ lived and loves. This is what we are given at the table of the Lord.
It is an action for us to do in a remembrance of Christ. In one sense, it is a memorial. In another sense, it is a recapitulation of Christ's offering for us. Christ is present in a fresh way every time we receive him at the table, and Christ will be there for us.
He gives us an amazing treasure in the table of the Lord. He also gives us an amazing treasure in the practice of foot washing, of burying ourselves with others.
Our feet go in dirty places. Our lives go in hard places. We’ve all had times of disappointment. Our expectations have been shot through, and we have had times when we have disappointed others and that shame is hard to bear. Only by grace can we reveal it. Sometimes it is revealed by the simple act of taking off our shoes.

Even when we don't admit them, we all have lines that we draw around our own behavior. We have things we're willing to do and things we're not willing to do. Through the community in which we are all in, through church, through our family, in all sorts of ways, there are things that I do. These are things that I don't do.
Often, when preachers talk about moral codes and ethics and things like this, it's about right and wrong and about don't murder, don't steal, don't commit adultery. It's the 10 commandments. We can bring those out. But today, tonight, the words of Jesus are not about sins or ethics as they are commonly understood. The words of Jesus are: do this in remembrance of me.
Communion is one of those practices that has a low barrier of entry. We give communion to those who seek it. Every time we serve communion, I say that “this is not a United Methodist table. This is not this church’s table. This is Christ’s table.  All are welcome.” Low barrier. Just come forward. I don’t give a quiz about metaphysics. I offer it freely.
Foot washing has a much higher barrier of entry. Some people are comfortable with it or have no personal image issues or care issues about their feet. For others, it is a line that they are not going to cross. There's a line, it is something they are not going to do.
And the irony is that sometimes it goes both directions. I may be comfortable washing your feet, but I'm not taking my shoes off for anyone. Not going to do it. You don’t have to do it. Though oddly, in faith contexts, necessity is quite stark. We have add to the words of Jesus something like this: “do I have to? If I don’t do this, will I go to hell? No. Then it is not for me.” Necessity presents the life of faith in a minimal light with a focus on what I get out of it. Jesus doesn’t say do this or you’re going to hell. He says, Do this in remembrance of me.

Foot washing is a symbol of humility. More than a symbol: it is an act of humility. It takes humility to get on your knees for another person, to help another person.
The sin of pride goes both ways. You can be too proud to ever get on your knees for another. You're not that kind of person. And you can be too proud to ever let anybody wash your feet. You can be too proud to ever ask for help when unloading the groceries and you can be too proud to go forward and offer help when you don't know how they will respond.
The washing of someone’s feet is tactile. It is not a necessity but an opportunity to connect more with the God who is love who became flesh for us. The God who is love who washed his disciples feet with his hands. Jesus touched them. Then, at the lord’s table, Jesus offered himself in a tactile way so that we can touch him. Communion is tactile. You touch the bread. You taste the bread. You touch the juice. You taste it. Communion is not just about a nice snack In the morning or the evening. Communion is a weird thing to do.
It is a weird practice that only becomes a normalized if you've done it a lot. Why are we doing this?
Jesus says, this is my body here. My body for you, this bread Is not just bread. It is me and I give it to you. I am the son of man, I, the word made flesh. I, the second person of the Trinity who became flesh as a child, Lived your experience, suffered your worries, your hungers, your pains, was tempted as you are tempted, but did not fall. This is me offered for you. Not just once. We're not done. Do this. Mandatum. Do this to remember me. Eat me. Consume me. I will be with you so that you will not be consumed by your pride, by your lust, by practices of destruction, by desires of the heart that lead astray.

Jesus offers a new commandment. A new mandatum. This is where Maundy Thursday comes from. A mandatum, a mandate, a commandment.

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.””
John 13:34-35 ESV

And the love Christ speaks of is not just a metaphor. It is concrete. It is tactile. And that means the lines we used to have about what we will or will not do no longer have power over us.

Eat me. Do this. My blood is here for you. Take it in your hands. Touch it, Not just this bread, but your savior,.
Not just this juice, but my love My all for you. If I give myself this way, what limits are left for you? You are free Taste and see the Lord is good. Do this in remembrance of me.

Christ offers himself to us. He is freely given to us. He gives us a command to love one another in a concrete way. He shows us how to do it: he washes his disciples’ feet. We have to let Jesus wash our feet. We have to open up to him, even the dirt. We have to accept him at the table. We have to follow him even in strange places.

On this day, may we see that the commandment that has been offered in a new way does not change God. It changes us. We are asked to live to a far greater level. And that commandment is not a burden, but a gift. A gift of a life not chained to sin. A gift of a life not chained to pride. A gift of a life freed for love, freed in order to love one another.

Let us pray,
Oh Lord, you call us to wash feet and serve in the hard and the messy. You call us to serve others without glamour and without acclaim. You call us to leave the table where we might be served and to do for others instead. And not just to serve those who love us. You ask us to serve my enemies with equal compassion and humility. Lord, you know this is not our nature.  You know how we seek the comfortable and the lovely and the self-affirming. But you have not only modeled it; you’ve command it.  “Now that you know these things.” Now we know. Knowing isn’t so hard. It’s the doing. Help us, Lord, to do. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.


title: One Straw Revolution

themes: tilling-not-sowing agrarian-theology faith-cannot-be-manufactured evangelism-anxiety parable-as-provocation-not-analogy integration-vs-fragmentation small-faithful-labor

text:
**Scripture:** Matthew 13:1-9; Matthew 13:18-23; Genesis 25:19-34

> Preaching on the Parable of the Sower alongside Jacob and Esau, Wilson argues that Jesus' agricultural parables resist one-to-one decoding and instead provoke faithfulness. Drawing on Fukuoka's One-Straw Revolution and a critique of industrial agriculture's fragmentation, he reframes the church's task not as sowing (which belongs to God alone) but as tilling and caretaking the soil — small, patient, unglamorous acts of love, service, and invitation that prepare people to receive grace, countering modern hesitancy to share faith at all.

**Illustrations:** texas-industrial-farming-peaches, western-north-carolina-farm-plots, fukuoka-one-straw-revolution, berry-and-jackson-agrarians, one-solution-three-problems, tortoise-and-the-hare, door-to-door-salesmen-evangelists, reverse-parable-of-the-sower

---

# July 12, 2026
## Ordinary Time
## Genesis 25:19-34	Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

#### Genesis 25:24-34

When her time to give birth was at hand, there were twins in her womb.
The first came out red, all his body like a hairy mantle; so they named him Esau.
Afterward his brother came out, with his hand gripping Esau’s heel; so he was named Jacob. Isaac was sixty years old when she bore them.
When the boys grew up, Esau was a skillful hunter, a man of the field, while Jacob was a quiet man, living in tents.
Isaac loved Esau, because he was fond of game; but Rebekah loved Jacob.
Once when Jacob was cooking a stew, Esau came in from the field, and he was famished.
Esau said to Jacob, “Let me eat some of that red stuff, for I am famished!” (Therefore he was called Edom. )
Jacob said, “First sell me your birthright.”
Esau said, “I am about to die; of what use is a birthright to me?”
Jacob said, “Swear to me first.” So he swore to him, and sold his birthright to Jacob.
Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew, and he ate and drank, and rose and went his way. Thus Esau despised his birthright.

#### Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat beside the sea.
Such great crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat there, while the whole crowd stood on the beach.
And he told them many things in parables, saying: “Listen! A sower went out to sow.
And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up.
Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil.
But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away.
Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them.
Other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.
Let anyone with ears listen!”
“Hear then the parable of the sower.
When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path.
As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy;
yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away.
As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing.
But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”

I did not grow up on a farm. The scale of farming in Texas today is so vast and industrial that the only time it ever feels personal is stopping to pick up peaches on the side of the road, and many of those peaches come from huge, industrial orchards anyway.

I went to graduate school in North Carolina and driving around Western North Carolina especially, I still remembering noticing how small plots of agricultural land was. People owned an acre here, a few acres there. Very few owned 1000 acres contiguously. The rivers and mountains and history of the land forced these smaller plots.

At seminary, my Old Testament professor had us read Wendell Berry and Wes Jackson and other American writers but it was a Japanese farmer, Masanobu Fukuoka, who really helped shape a different way to think about agriculture in his book _The One-Straw Revolution_. It's a fascinating account of the transformation of the plots of land that he was looking after. He tells his own story of farming, of bringing rice and grain and chickens and fruit back together with a little straw binding the cycle.

This is something that influenced many agrarians in the United States. The idea is that modern agriculture basically took one solution and created three problems. Farmers and ranchers of years ago had cattle and crops next to each other, and they would rotate the cattle and the crops. The crops they grew also would not be monocultures. But we have one solution that turns into three problems, because we took farming away from ranching and added chemicals so we wouldn't have to weed. They add chemical fertilizers so they only have to rotate if it is legally required

So now we have farms of monocultures that need to be weeded constantly with pesticides. Those pesticides go down, enter the waterways, pollute the waters, make it hard for farm animals to drink the waters downstream. We put farm animals in fields and have to buy hay for them. We took ecosystems that fit, and forced industrial ecosystems that don't — that lie on the precipice — in order to maintain scale and profitability. We took the plantation and sharecropping system and replaced the abusive labor with chemicals. We pump in chemicals and chemically processed feed and water because the regular water is too toxic from all the chemical run off.

Because the way people justify it is, "Oh, we need modern agriculture to feed the billions of people." When the reality is, modern agriculture makes it hyper-profitable for enormous conglomerates to feed the billions of people. So the food and the land — it's completely abstracted from the people who consume it. Except in small, charming ways: farmers' markets, farm-to-table restaurants, things of that nature.

If you grow up in a city, farming is a hobby. People retire and get certified as master gardeners. The land was not so distant from the reality of daily life when Jesus walked and taught. His parables, over and over again, come back to agriculture.

Jesus rarely explains his parables. He leaves it to his audience to figure out what is going on. But here, in Matthew 13, he tells us exactly what's going on.

What he leaves unsaid is the real question: who are the sowers, and who are we? He gives us a great picture of what the different landscapes represent. We know what the road represents, the bushes, the good soil — we're given all this. But what is the seed itself?

At first glance, it's slightly confusing. A lot of Jesus' parables, especially in Matthew, he prefaces by saying, "The kingdom of heaven is like *blank* The kingdom of God is like *blank*." He doesn't, here. In this one, he just tells a parable and then tells us what it means.

>When anyone hears the word of the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what is sown in the heart; this is what was sown on the path. As for what was sown on rocky ground, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet such a person has no root, but endures only for a while, and when trouble or persecution arises on account of the word, that person immediately falls away. As for what was sown among thorns, this is the one who hears the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke the word, and it yields nothing. But as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.”

As so often is the case, when Jesus answers our question: what does this mean? the answer does not often lead to greater clarity but to more questions.

A sower who sows — is God the Father the sower? Is it the Holy Spirit? Is the seed the gospel? Like all the parables, finding one-to-one comparisons is not the most helpful exercise. It wouldn't be a parable if it were a one-to-one analogy — it would just be an analogy. The parable lives in this strange genre between analogy and metaphor and story. And even in explaining it, we don't get any closer to the truth of it.

The parable is about provocation — provoking us toward faithfulness, toward holiness, toward new life. Parables aren't for us to process like sports score. They aren't about winning or losing even when some of the results are positive and some negative.

There is a freshness to the parables — you can preach them again and again, and each Sunday take a different angle. You can't exhaust the meaning-making potential of a parable. Whereas you could, of Aesop's fables. I think of the tortoise and the hare: there's only so many ways you could describe and explain the tortoise and the hare. The parable of the sower, we can come back to again and again.

But what I want us to think about today is: what are we supposed to do? Because I think the parable of the sower actually gives humans a lot of agency. Not to save people, not to be the gospel, not to be sowers — but to be tillers, to be caretakers of the soil.

If sowing was all you needed to grow anything, it would be the easiest job imaginable. If all I had to do to grow a bunch of crops was throw some seeds around and then wait a while and pick them up — gosh, that'd be a wonderful way to live. But that's not— that's not how you do it. That's not how it works.

Soil needs to be cared for. Good soil doesn't just wake up one day good. It has to be watered and fertilized — usually naturally, at that point — offered minerals and nutrients that would make a home for that seed, so it can grow. Rocky soil has to be supplemented with other materials. A road, if you're gonna grow on it, needs to be broken up, softened, supplemented. If there are thistles and thorny bushes, they need to be chopped down.

This is gets us back to Fukuoka and the *one straw revolution*. Like the life of the farm, the life of faith can be split into a number of different facets that take one solution and turn it into three problems. We split up the life of the church and the life of Christians, we split up religion and spirituality. We split up our obligation to God from our obligation towards our neighbor. We have split up who we call our neighbor.

We have separated out being a member of a church, having these responsibilities, from growing in our faith on a daily basis, so that our understanding of God is fuller today than it was a year ago, or a week ago. We have separated out. How we answer and respond to questions of the faith. By keeping these experts on hand that we can look to, but we don't have to think too deeply about.

And finally we have separated sharing the good news of Jesus Christ. You have something worth sharing or else you would not be here this morning. Yet hesitancy is understandable in our modern world where literally door to door salesmen modeled their behavior on door to door evangelists. There can be an understandable squeamishness around sharing the faith. What if people misunderstand you? What if people already have at church? What if you do it wrong, all these anxieties are built up.

In some ways, we have created this **reverse parable of the sower**, so that instead of spreading the seed on the road, and in the bush, we hesitate to spread it anywhere, for fear of the road, or the bush. The model Jesus gives us is to share that good news, but also to be caretakers of the soil in which it falls, to not separate things out, to not indiscriminately act in this world. .

We are to be provoked towards faithfulness, by the parables and the gospels, and by our own experiences, and understanding of faith, that God has shared something unique with each of us that is worth sharing with others. The point is not to all have best practices. But to realize that if God has changed your life, God can do it for another, and they should be offered that opportunity of new life in Jesus Christ.

Often today the first step in faith is not a prayer, it is serving with another person. It is giving. It is listening. We aren't going to know how the Holy Spirit reaches another soul beforehand. We did not all connect with God in the same way. It isn't just coming on Sunday morning. Sometimes it is inviting someone to dinner. Sometimes it is inviting to serve together.

There is the freedom of an amazing humility to still be found in this parable. I think what the parable of the sower shows us is what our labor as the church in this life is really about. No human can bring another to faith. It's not going to happen. Faith is a response to God's action in someone's life. Faith is there because of God, all the way down. Faith comes from an individual encounter that cannot be marketed or contrived.

But what we can do — what _you_ can do — is till the soil a little bit. And when I say a little bit, I mean it. If you have a field that's rocky, full of weeds and thistles, and on your own you try to get it ready for planting season in one day, you will fail. You will fail, and you will feel horrible about yourself. Instead, if you start picking a few weeds, picking a few rocks, putting a little water out, putting a little peat — it will transform. If you do it together, the soil will transform faster.

But also: that good soil doesn't just grow stuff on its own. It still needs to be cared for. It still needs to be looked after. Caring for it is loving it. Loving the dirt and the rocks. Being patient with the birds and the briars.

So we are left today with the question for our selves and for our neighbors: what are the things that we can do for the people in our life in need of grace and mercy — We can till their soil a little bit. We can add a little organic matter. We can pull a weed. We can serve with them. We can pray with them. Not the great radical thing, but the still, small thing.

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


title: Ordinary Time

series: Easter

themes: call-to-discipleship succession-and-mantle setting-face-to-jerusalem cost-of-discipleship

text:
**Scripture:** 2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14; Luke 9:51-62
**Series:** Easter

> A lectionary note for Ordinary Time (Proper 8, Year C) pairing two texts of departure, succession, and undivided commitment. The first reading recounts Elijah's ascent in a whirlwind of fire and Elisha's refusal to leave his master, inheriting a double portion of his spirit and his fallen mantle to part the Jordan in his own right. The second is Luke's hinge passage where Jesus resolutely sets his face toward Jerusalem, rebukes James and John for wanting to call down fire on an inhospitable Samaritan village, and meets three would-be followers with the hard demands of discipleship: foxes have holes but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head; let the dead bury their dead; no one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God. The note contains only the full scripture passages and the headings (Ordinary Time, both readings) without a developed sermon body or illustrations.

---

# June 28, 2026
## Ordinary Time
## Genesis 22:1-18

#### Genesis 22:1-18

*After these things God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.” So Abraham rose early in the morning, saddled his donkey, and took two of his young men with him and his son Isaac; he cut the wood for the burnt offering and set out and went to the place in the distance that God had shown him. On the third day Abraham looked up and saw the place far away. Then Abraham said to his young men, “Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you.” Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering and laid it on his son Isaac, and he himself carried the fire and the knife. And the two of them walked on together. Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” And the two of them walked on together.*

*When they came to the place that God had shown him, Abraham built an altar there and laid the wood in order. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar on top of the wood. Then Abraham reached out his hand and took the knife to kill his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven and said, “Abraham, Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns. Abraham went and took the ram and offered it up as a burnt offering instead of his son. So Abraham called that place “The Lord will provide,” as it is said to this day, “On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.”*

*The angel of the Lord called to Abraham a second time from heaven and said, “By myself I have sworn, says the Lord: Because you have done this, and have not withheld your son, your only son, I will indeed bless you, and I will make your offspring as numerous as the stars of heaven and as the sand that is on the seashore. And your offspring shall possess the gate of their enemies, and by your offspring shall all the nations of the earth gain blessing for themselves, because you have obeyed my voice.”*

##Matthew 10:40-42

*“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous, and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”*

# Doing the Minimum

What are the moments in our life where we give the least?

I think all of us need to admit that sometimes we just do the minimum. We do what is asked of us.

It is like the pieces of flare in Office Space when Joanna only has 15 and she is fine with it because sticking buttons on her server apron is not something that gets her up in the morning. You don't need to go the max in everything you do.

As a musician, an album that was all bangers all the time would be exhausting. They could never actually perform all the bangers. Even Metallica had ballads that would slow it down and let them catch their breath. The contrast actually helps you to appreciate the bangers.

So not everything in life needs to be taken to the nth degree. Or, as the UT Longhorns — their slogan used to be, "All gas, no brakes." Thankfully, I think they changed it, because that's not a really helpful way to drive unless there's nobody else on the road. All gas, no brakes works if you're in the middle of the Mojave Desert, but the brakes are there because you live in a world with other people.

So we can't just say, "All right, do as much as you can all the time" — maximum effort everywhere, or minimum effort everywhere. Which is unfortunate, because usually you want to have a rule for your life, some kind of structure, a code that is applicable in every situation. But that won't work. If you try to maximize everything, you just exhaust yourself. So how do we figure out what are the things to maximize in our life and what are the things to minimize?

# The Virtue of Prudence

Last week, on Father's Day, we talked about courage — Godly courage, and the courage to know what are the right fears: what are the fears to fear, and the courage and faithfulness to not fear what destroys the body but what destroys the soul. To realize that our soul is under threat by a million small decisions each day, when we decide to follow Jesus or we don't.

Another ancient virtue is prudence. Prudence is the virtue of knowing the good, being able to discern the good in certain situations.

Prudence, like courage, is a virtue, which means it's a habit. It's a practice. It's something you can be good at. It's something that nobody is naturally good at — you don't naturally improve at it.

And we are given, in our readings for today, two incredibly contrasting moments of prudential judgment. We have Abraham and Isaac up on Mount Moriah, taking faith to the absolute maximum, willing to sacrifice your only child, and we have Jesus talking about the power of giving even a cup of cold water to a little one.

## Akedah

The sacrifice of Isaac, or the *Akedah*, is one of the most visceral stories in all of ancient humanity. There are carryovers in lots of culture, literature, and art — as well as, it should be said, often a lack of exploration into the depths of what is going on.

There's one way to read it: that Abraham always knew that God would save Isaac, so he wasn't worried. We had VBS this week — this would be the VBS interpretation, if I were going to sing a bunch of songs and read some stories about the Akedah. This is what the theme would be: isn't Abraham so smart to trust God, because God is going to be faithful and save his son?

One of the great challenges is that we don't know what Abraham was thinking. If he had resigned himself to slaying his son, he could have saved the trip up the mountain. Abraham called that place, *Adonai Yireh* or "The Lord Will Provide".

# Beyond Ethics: Godly Prudence

Ultimately, Abraham's mind is opaque to us. He is inaccessible. It is easy to see the actions of Abraham as wicked.

This gets to the starkest understanding of the prudence of God versus the prudence of the world. Like last week, when we were talking about courage — there's a difference between worldly courage and godly courage. Pagan, earthly courage lifts up the warrior, the fighter, the risk-taker; that's what gets called courage. Godly courage lifts up the one who does not see death as the greatest thing to fear.

For Abraham, we see that Godly prudence — knowing the good, seeing the good — is not about following an ethical precept all the way to the end, but about a faith beyond that. Faith in a God beyond our human understanding, whom we see fully revealed in Jesus Christ — for whom the knife was not stayed, and for whom there was no lamb presented that could take his place on the cross.

What would you do if you were in Abraham's shoes?

This is a hypothetical. Sometimes they can be funny or helpful. You switch roles up in a situation to try to imagine what you think you would do.

It may be fun to talk about, but it doesn't get to the reality of who we are as humans, who God is as our Creator and Redeemer, what Jesus shows us, and how we can live in light of the resurrection.

The hypothetical is designed for the big moment, the mountain top, the trolley problem, *Sophie's Choice*, it misses driving to work, shopping, eating, working, relaxing, all the things we do and practice that don't have the drama worth retelling but in fact tell us much more about ourselves than those mountaintops.

The small things we do show us more about our faith or lack thereof, than the mountaintops.

# The Cup of Cold Water

As we see at the end of Matthew 10, in verses 40 to 42:

> Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward. And whoever welcomes a righteous person, a just person, in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous. And whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple, a student, truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.

So Jesus is getting detailed here: into hospitality, into caring for the one who comes. And hospitality is gratifying, but exhausting. It can be a challenge to have a guest for a long time. It can be a challenge to have a lot of dinner parties all the time — to welcome people into your home all the time, to clean up all the time.

Sometimes we read the Bible and think, "Oh, hospitality was really important to those kinds of cultures." And this gets to a way we moderns often, anachronistically, like to call the things we don't enjoy in the Bible "cultural," and the things we do enjoy "universal."

But Jesus makes a number of these claims. Whoever welcomes me welcomes Jesus, the Son of God — welcomes the Father. So this seems like a big deal: "Oh yeah, I'm gonna welcome Jesus." Whoever welcomes a prophet — this is trickier, welcoming a prophet — but it still resolves nicely: "Yay, this gets me to Jesus." Then the small moment of mercy: whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple, a student of God — you will not lose your reward.

Which gets to this idea of what the reward is that Jesus is talking about. For us today, it's abundant life with God. We will not lose out — because we will be living it. The reward is not an object we'll attain; it's the life that we live. It's the life that we live, the life offered to us.

Godly prudence is what can be maxed without limit. Mercy. Generosity. Kindness. Sacrifice. There is no minimum. There is no maximum. It is grace all the way down. Knowing this doesn't make it easy./

# Prudence Together

We may be on the mountaintop confronted by a vision— or we may be driving home, and we just don't want to see anybody.  We don't want to welcome anybody. We're tired. We know what we should do, but we just don't want to do it.

Part of being the church, part of being a Christian — being called together — and it's a part we often fail at, but often succeed at, is that we're called to be prudential together. We are not alone. For some of us, we know the thing we should be doing, but we don't want to do it. But if we do it together, it's a lot easier.

This past week we had VBS here at Covenant. It turned out beautifully. The kids had a great time, the volunteers had a great time, we met some new people, some new families. It was a lovely experience that would have been impossible alone — impossible without the people who shared, who did the thing together, who each stretched, who each took on a lot of responsibility.

In the past, our VBSs have been a lot more structured, to be honest. And this one was not as structured. It was the opposite of microm.≥≥≥≥≥≥≥≥≥≥≥≥                                             anaged — it was barely macromanaged. But God was there, because everybody knew why they were there. We gave them a clear direction and followed up. We prioritized the kids. We prioritized safety and fun and keeping things moving, and let them enjoy it and grow in their ideas about God — and about who they are: that they are loved, that they can have fun.

But there are ways to do this the rest of the year, too — to welcome families, to welcome children, to welcome prophets. To be a welcoming place. And faithfulness is about these little things. Prudence is about these little things: the way we welcome the stranger who walks through the door, the way we honor them as beloved by God, the way we honor them even more than the person we've known thirty years. We take the time to learn a name, to make a connection. The way we invite people to church, invite people to this life of faith. Is it something worth sharing?

These little steps — that are big acts of faith.

# An Invitation

Most of us will never be stuck on Mount Moriah like Abraham, put in a position to make a faithful decision. But all of us, every day, are given opportunities to notice the good and to do it — to welcome the stranger, to welcome Jesus.

Right at the end of Matthew 25, Jesus gives the great parable of the Lord of the earth separating the sheep from the goats. Matthew 10 sets the scene for Matthew 25, and offers a pattern for us to follow in the small things, where our faith is truly tested and proven. And the reward we receive is the life we are able to live, because of who God is for us. We can let go of control because we know the one in control.

If that is a life you want to live, take a step — a step of faith. This day, take a moment to pray. Pray with someone else. Pray with the person around you. Pray with me after worship. Take a moment to try out a practice this week — a spiritual practice. A practice of prayer, a practice of service, a practice of fasting. Offer it. Give yourself an opportunity to put life in a different direction.

Generosity is a spiritual practice because it let's go of control. Our personal financial situation for most of us is about control. We get to a certain level and we know what we can afford and what we can't. We have our lifestyle and expectations and we control them. On Mount Moriah, Abraham let go of control. When we welcome the prophet, we let go of control. It could go a lot of different ways, but we let God have that.

We find the good we should do by following the one who is good, who offered himself for us. So we know where we can max out, where we pullback, where we live, where we give, where we love, who we are, and whose we are.

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


title: Shining

themes: presence-of-god doubt-and-faith the-poor-and-the-presence-of-christ ascension transition-to-lent

text:
**Scripture:** Exodus 24:12-18; Matthew 17:1-9; Hebrews 11:1; 1 Corinthians 13:12
**Series:** Epiphany

> Preached on Transfiguration Sunday before Lent, the sermon takes three honest questions—why can't we hear, know, or see God—and treats questioning as an act of faith rather than its absence. Pairing Exodus 24 (God's voice at Sinai) with Matthew 17 (the Transfiguration), Wilson argues that God speaks 'slant' (illustrated by Dickinson), that faith rests finally on trust in witnesses and the resurrection (with Josephus and a teacher's saying as supports), and that God's glory cannot be contained—seen now only dimly, fully in the new creation, but truly visible in the neighbor, the poor, and the suffering. Drawing on Rowan Williams, he concludes that Christian belief always pushes toward love of neighbor and enemy, and sends the congregation into Lent to seek new ways to see, hear, and remember that God is real.

**Illustrations:** childs-question-about-god, dickinson-tell-it-slant, josephus-testimonium, teacher-on-resurrection-belief, rowan-williams-tokens-of-trust, grackle-hearing-god, searching-like-house-car-job

---

# February 15, 2026
## Exodus 24:12-18 Matthew 17:1-9
### Shining

The Lord said to Moses, “Come up to me on the mountain and wait there; I will give you the tablets of stone, with the law and the commandment, which I have written for their instruction.” So Moses set out with his assistant Joshua, and Moses went up onto the mountain of God. To the elders he had said, “Wait here for us, until we come back to you. Look, Aaron and Hur are with you; whoever has a dispute may go to them.”

Then Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. Now the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the Israelites. Moses entered the cloud and went up on the mountain. Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights. - Exodus 24:12-18

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became bright as light. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will set up three tents here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they raised their eyes, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.” - Matthew 17:1-9

Why can’t we see God?

This is a very important question. It’s usually a question asked by a child or young person, as grown-ups are accustomed to ignoring important questions in our lives and just doing what we’ve always done. But why can’t we see God?

There are many responses I give to this in a pastoral context. Usually, there is another question connected to this one: How do we know that God is real? The knee-jerk response is usually, “Well, you just know.” This is deeply unsatisfying—especially to somebody who doesn’t just know. It also doesn’t explain anything, nor give an account of your faith.

Why don’t we hear God? Another very good, very important question.

I want us to think about these three questions this morning:
- Why can’t we see God?
- How do we know God is real?
- Why can’t we hear God?

First of all, I want us to be able to say that these are good and important questions. It is not a lack of faith that causes anyone to question. It’s a lack of faith to not ask questions. It’s a lack of faith to shut down questions. If you believe so little that a question rattles the structure of your belief, that is its own issue that needs to be addressed.

As the author of the Letters to the Hebrews has it, Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen. Faith is an assurance about what we hope for. What is our hope? Peace. Solidarity. Flourishing. Love. Faith is an assurance about these things—a conviction about them, even when we don’t see them.

## Why Don’t We Hear God?

So let’s start with the last question first: Why don’t we hear God?

This is what the passage from Exodus is about. It’s about hearing God, about God speaking to the people. That’s where the law comes from—the way, Torah, to follow the law. Those people heard God from the mountain. The next generation didn’t hear God in the same way, but they heard it through their parents. They heard God’s voice through the people who had experienced theophony, a fancy word for the voice of God.

The question then becomes: Are they reliable witnesses, that generation that came before? At some point, it has to be a measure of trust—trust in the testimony and witness of others. You could go further down the rabbit hole of what is called epistemology, the study of knowledge and how we know things. It’s a deep, deep hole. But on every level, it ultimately comes down to a moment of trust.

The law was given by Moses. Part of it was heard by the people. It was always given by God. There’s a powerful displacement going on in Exodus at Mount Sinai. The voice of God speaking to Moses and the people is the word of God.

And we as Christians have a deeper understanding of what the word of God is, for we see that word enfleshed in Jesus Christ. The word spoken from the mountaintop became a child in Bethlehem.

That is a radical claim—a claim only possible by faith, by an assurance of something hoped for: an assurance that the God who created everything loved us so much that God’s son became human. The word through which God speaks to Moses and the people became a child.

Why can’t we hear God? People have heard God before. We don’t hear God the same way we hear a grackle. God is immaterial—that is part of our faith: that God created everything from nothing. God does not have a material body to create sounds. Nor is God a puppet master speaking through us by mind control. This is also false.

The answer to the question usually reverts back to: What are we paying attention to? Where are we listening for God?

The people of Israel, freed from slavery in Egypt, wanted God to speak to them on their own terms, and God refused to do that. We today want God to speak to us on our own terms, and God still, most of the time, does not do so.

God speaks slant. As Emily Dickinson wrote in a brief poem relevant for today

>Tell all the truth but tell it slant —
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise
As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind —

God speaks indirectly so that we are not deafened by the voice, but it is still speech for us when we hear it, when we see the fruit of God’s speech. God speaks to the people around us, speaks through the people before us. God speaks in those moments of deep comfort, when the person didn’t need to be there but was there, when mercy was shown.

## How Do We Know God Is Real?

How do we know God is real?

This, again, can get back to deep questions of epistemology—of how we understand reality to be present before us. We can go on a long rabbit hole of what is really real, the reality of nothing.

One way to talk about it is the evidence and testimony of who Jesus is. The central faith claim for Christians is that Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God. Jesus of Nazareth was born at some point around 2,000 years ago, ministered in and around what is now Israel and Palestine, was arrested, killed by the Romans, and three days later, rose again.

Everything else comes after this moment. As one of my teachers would say: If you believe Jesus rose from the dead, it’s not that hard to believe a lot of the other stuff in the Bible. But we have to start there.

So we look at the evidence about Jesus. We look at those early records, both within the church and outside of it. Recently, there’s been a scholarly reappraisal of one paragraph in the work of a man named Josephus. Josephus was a Jewish writer, philosopher, and historian who wrote a history of the Jews and also served as a historian of the period. He mentions Jesus. For a long time, some people read Josephus and concluded that the line about Jesus was interpolated later—that another writer came in and put it there, that it wasn’t really Josephus. But there’s been a recent scholarly reappraisal, within the last year, suggesting it was authentically Josephus speaking about Jesus.

With the resurrection itself, there are accounts that go beyond the Christian scriptures, that go beyond the scope of an organized conspiracy. I think we get back to God the Father and the whole cosmology of creation from the resurrection, from Jesus of Nazareth.

But how we know God is real isn’t just an evidentialist claim or an empirical claim. It comes from our experience of God and our experience of those who claim to follow God—we are shaped and formed in these kinds of ways.

Which gets us to our last question,

## Why Can’t We See God?

Why can’t we see God?

This is the power of the Transfiguration. The Transfiguration—this moment, this last Sunday before the start of Lent—when Jesus takes some friends and goes up a mountaintop. On that mountaintop, he reveals himself fully to his friends, gloriously, as the Son of God. And then he tells them to be quiet about it until later—when they obviously told people.

Jesus didn’t take Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John up that mountaintop so that they could post about it. He took Peter, James, and John. And what did they see up there? They saw Elijah and Moses.

They were so overwhelmed by the experience that they wanted to build houses, to build tabernacles. In the Greek, it’s the same word for the tabernacle they carried around in the desert during the Exodus account. It was a place so holy they wanted to try to contain it, but it could not be contained.

The vision of God could not be contained.

We see as well in Exodus how the vision of God that Moses beheld could not be contained. It imprinted on his skin. His skin glowed from the glory of God.

To see God cannot be contained. It’s only fully realized in our eternal future with God in the new creation, when we will see God as God is, in the words of First Corinthians 13: “Now we look through a mirror dimly, through a glass darkly.”

We can see God. We can see Jesus—in our neighbor. That’s what Jesus tells us: where to look for God. Jesus doesn’t tell us to look in the temple, but in the poor, in the hungry and the sick, in the lonely, in those broken by this world. That’s where Jesus tells us we can see God.

It’s not a satisfying answer if we’re trapped inside the expectations of the world, trapped inside expectations of power and wealth. But when we let go of those expectations, it is a truthful answer, and there’s nothing else we could ask of it.

Why can’t we see God? Jesus’s response to this would be, Those who have eyes to see, let them see. Those who have ears to hear, let them hear.

The Transfiguration shows us the impossibility of containing God’s glory. It shows the impossibility of satisfactorily putting Jesus in a bucket.

As Rowan Williams wrote:

>Knowing God]... call it love, yes, only that can sound too emotional, or call it faith, and that can sound too cerebral. And what is it? Both, and neither... its] the decision to be faithful, the patient refusal of easy gratifications... of Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane and on the cross, that bloody crown of love and faith. That is how I learn finally of a God who will not be fitted into my catergories and expectations... the living truth too great for me to see, trusting that He will see and judge and yet not turn me away... That is the mercy which will never give us, or even let us be content with less than itself and less than the truth... we have seen the truth enacted in our own world as mercy, grace and hope, as Jesus, the only-begotten, full of grace and truth.[^1]

Most of the time, we ask questions and look for Jesus in ways we look for a house or a car or a job, but that is not who Jesus is. Seeing God is never a finished action or question. Knowing God is never a finished action or question. And yet Jesus came as a person so that we, as well, could see God in other people—could love the neighbor who annoys us through the power of seeing God in them. Which is more challenging to believe, that God is real? Or that the reality of God in Jesus Christ compels us to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us? Christian belief always pushes us towards love or else it is false.

My friends, Lent is starting this week. As we get closer to this Lenten experience, may you find a new way to look for God. May you find a new way to listen for God. May you find a new way to remember that God is real, that God is there for you.

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

[^1]: Tokens of Trust