Sermon: “Go Fish”, Luke 5:1-11 (January 26, 2025)

You know, over the course of my ten years of ordained ministry, I’ve had frequent doubts about the content of my sermon. Sometimes I think, “Maybe I should try to be a little more intellectual in my writing. Maybe I use too many weird metaphors about butterfly goop[1]  and Barbies[2]  and Witness Protection[3]  and cups full of mud[4]. But then, of course, I remember that Jesus was the KING of metaphors. I remember that he refers to himself as bread, a vine, and a gate; that he calls his disciples salt, sheep, and light; that he describes the kingdom of God as a mustard seed, a pearl, and a hidden treasure; and I feel less self-conscious about my sermon illustrations.

Sermon: "I Am Learning...", Acts 10 (April 23, 2023)

----------------------------------------------------------

On Easter, we completed our journey through Matthew’s gospel, finishing the story of Jesus’ life with the account of his resurrection appearances to his followers. Last Sunday, we punctuated that narrative sentence by focusing on Jesus’ very last earthly words, what we’ve come to call “The Great Commission”: “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I’ve commanded you.” This week, the Narrative lectionary offers a story about one of the disciples’ earliest attempts to do exactly that.

Liturgy: Peter's Vision, Acts 10:1-17, 34-48 (April 23, 2023)

*You are welcome to use or adapt any of my resources for free, but I ask that you provide proper citation AND comment on this post to let me know.*

Call to Worship (based on Acts 10:36-43)

Leader: The message of peace God has sent to us is this:
People: Jesus Christ is Lord of all!

Sermon: “The Deal of a Lifetime”, Matthew 16:24-17:8 (February 19, 2023 - Transfiguration Sunday)

---------------------------------------------------

Although this week’s reading begins towards the end of Matthew 16, the full episode actually starts back in verse 13. You already know the story, though: Jesus asks the disciples who they say he is, and Peter quickly (and correctly) responds, “You are the Christ, the son of the living God!” Jesus praises Peter’s understanding and declares him the rock upon which the Church would be built. But not three verses later, Peter gets spooked by Jesus’ teachings about the Messiah’s suffering and crucifixion and tells him not to speak of such things. Jesus makes a 180 from calling Peter the rock upon which the Church would be built to the stone that could cause him to stumble. And that’s the point at which today’s reading begins.

Sermon: “Recipe for Repentance: Humility”, Mark 8:31-38 (February 21, 2021)

(This is the first sermon in our Lenten series, "Recipe for Repentance". The text of our Ash Wednesday message can be found here.)

----------------------------------------------

I’ve gotten into an online debate with a stranger exactly once. It was about a year and a half ago, back when the Democratic primary debates were the top news story in the United States. Everyone from every point along the political spectrum had an opinion on the candidates—and there were plenty of candidates to have opinions about. I generally tried to steer clear of online arguments during the political cycle, largely because I believe that listening is more important than speaking in situations like this. On this occasion, though, I made an exception and decided to offer my two cents.

Sermon: "What Really Divides Us", Romans 14:1-6/Galatians 2:11-14 (September 13, 2020)

---------------------------------------------------------

As some of you know, I performed my first wedding here as the pastor of Boone Memorial Presbyterian Church yesterday. It was a joyful occasion, of course, and I was reminded once again of the blessing that this calling to ministry can be, even in the midst of a pandemic. I’ve been meeting with the newlyweds over the past several months in order to plan the ceremony and talk about their future life together, plus my own third wedding anniversary is in less than a month, so I’ve spent a lot of time recently reflecting on about the experience of joining two lives to one another. I’ve also been puzzling over how on earth anyone makes it work.

Sermon: “The Witness of Unexpected Reactions”, Acts 2.14a, 36-41 (April 26, 2020)

---------------------------------------------------------

Have you ever heard of “reaction videos”? It’s an online phenomenon where people post videos of themselves (or others) as they encounter things for the first time. They can be experiencing anything from a video game to popular music to unfamiliar technology to a viral video, but no matter what it is, the whole point is to watch their reaction. Yes, you heard that right: the entertainment value of one of the most popular trends on YouTube lies entirely in the unfiltered reactions of strangers.

Sermon: “When Christ Turns Away”, Psalm 27:1, 4-9/Matthew 4:18-23 (January 26, 2020)

-----------------------------------------------------

“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?...Of whom shall I be afraid?” Sometimes, it seems like scripture is telling us that the mark of true faith is a lack of fear. There’s even a rumor that the Bible says “Do not be afraid” 365 times, one for each day of the year. While that’s a pretty dramatic exaggeration, this phrase certainly is a common refrain throughout scripture. It’s no wonder, then, that we fall into the pattern of thinking that as long as we follow God, as long as we live a life of faith, we will never be afraid. We’ll have everything we need: safety, shelter, victory, comfort…a life entirely free from fear!

Sermon: "You Can't Sit with Us!", Psalm 148/Acts 11:1-18 (May 19, 2019)

--------------------------------------------------

As we approach the end of May, all the graduation announcements and “end-of-school” countdowns from students and teachers alike bring me back to that most magical time of life: high school. Love it or hate it (and I tended towards the latter category most of the time, myself) high school is a time of intensity—intense preparation, intense emotions, intense changes, intense loyalties…but most of all, intense identity politics. Few people can look back on their teenage years without recalling the all-important social hierarchy. (If you’ve blocked those years from your mind and need a refresher, just check out literally any teen comedy movie and it’ll all come flooding back to you.) A lucky few managed to transcend social groups, but for most of us, we knew where we belonged and where we definitely DIDN’T belong. We knew if we were cool or uncool, and if we didn’t necessarily fall neatly into one of those categories, we knew EXACTLY where we landed on the spectrum between the two extremes. 

Sermon: "Rock of Ages: Our Brokenness", Numbers 20:2-12/Matthew 16:13-19 (April 18, 2019--Maundy Thursday)

(This sermon is the sixth in our Lenten Series, "Rock of Ages", in which we're exploring how rocks can symbolize different characteristics of God and of ourselves.)

-------------------------------------------------------------

Have you ever felt like the world was broken?

I remember being a kid and believing that life was fair. It wasn’t an active conclusion that I arrived at; I just assumed that “fair” was the default setting of the world. That as long as you were honest, did your best, and worked hard, everything would always be okay. Jesus loves me, God is good, the world is fair—these are the “truths” that shaped my childhood.

But as I grew up, I began to better understand what really motivates humanity. Justice and mercy are not the universal standards that I once thought they were. People are often far more motivated by greed, self-interest, and fear than by compassion and care for others. Our leaders don’t always have our best interests at heart. Hard work doesn’t always lead to success. Kindness won’t guarantee that others treat me the same. The world that I see reflected around me now is a far cry from the world that I once believed God intended for us. Our world is profoundly, irreparably broken—WE’VE broken it—and it terrifies me.