Prepare--Matthew 3:1-12. Sermon preached on December 7, 2025

            By now I wonder, how many Christmas carols have you listened to? Not time amount, but how many actual Christmas songs could you name if we took the time to list them this morning?

            In my kitchen as Emma and I baked and prepared meals together, we routinely asked our virtual assistant, and I won’t say their names for fear of whose listening on YouTube, “so and so play some traditional Christmas music.” And then I enjoyed smoking chicken drumsticks and baking pies. Emma made bread and yeast rolls. We mashed potatoes and prepared deviled eggs while one of us sang—and it wasn’t Emma who sang.

            Yes, as early as Thanksgiving Day, we did this with Jennifer tasting our work to make sure we weren’t messing anything up. Amazon’s virtual assistant in the kitchen, and Apple’s in the Den, they were our DJ cycling through all the classics that you could think of. . . even the Grinch.

            So again, I wonder if you’ve joined me in this practice of enjoying everything from White Christmas to Joy to the World to… whatever your favorite Christmas carol or song is? Don’t say them out loud now either. 

            But as you listened to these selections, whether out in packed stores or at home like me, did you ever hear a message like the one from Matthew 3? Did you hear of John the Baptizer in those songs or consider the potency of what John said to his assembled congregation by the Jordan River?

            Every year the church reads about John the Baptist at some point in our Advent journey. Every year, we pause to consider how John helps us to prepare ourselves for the birth of Jesus. And while you might be tempted to think that John’s message is out of place among Christmas lights and the joy of the holiday season, this message is important because it speaks to the orientation of our hearts.

Move 1- The difference

            While the first three gospels all speak about John, it is only Matthew who gives us the potency of, “Produce fruit in keeping with repentance.” Mark barely touches the message of John and Luke gives us more depth to the message; it is Matthew who provides the passion that we all remember. Matthew makes the difference. Matthew challenges us in the Christmas season to examine our lives, honestly, and fully. 

            And after we examine our lives, after we look ourselves fully and notice the places where we fall short… our response becomes clear, we should repent. 

            The language Matthew uses in this place/moment is stark.

“Repentance, or metanoia, to use the Greek word, refers to far more than a simply being or saying one is sorry for past sins, far more than mere regret or remorse for such sins. It refers to a turning away from the past way of life and the inauguration of a new one, in this case initialized by an act of baptism.[1]”

            Everyone likes to say, ‘sorry about that. Didn’t mean to say that or do that.’ But biblical repentance. The type of repentance that Matthew’s John is preaching to his congregation in today’s text, is one that calls out a deep, meaningful, reflection and analysis—a deep response. 

The message from John the Baptist that we read in Matthew’s gospel wants each person who comes to the Jordan, and each follower of Christ who reads this message later, and each members of the church in Advent now, to pause, make deliberate space in their day, and consider how their lives have not lined up to how God calls them to live. 

            And while this does not feel like a message suited to, ‘Have a holly, jolly, Christmas, cause it’s the best time of the year,’ perhaps this is exactly the right message that the Church who will silently come to the manger needs to hear and consider. 

            Perhaps the reading of Matthew 3 makes all the difference as Advent begins this year—even if it seems to feel out of place. 

Move 2- Jesus makes that difference.

            For as we make the space to repent, we draw ourselves close to the Lord. . . and in our drawing close to the Lord, we notice something happening around us in our relationship with God.

            Jesus has draws himself close to us in response before we could even begin our movement toward him. Jesus will choose us and, in His choice, we are blessed, changed, and ultimately forgiven. And John’s message foreshadows this choice of our Savior in verse 11 even if Jesus has not walked onto the stage of life yet for us, we can hear and feel Him drawing close to us. 

            “But he who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.’”[2]

            You see, even with the potency of John’s fiery message to repent, we cannot lose track of Jesus and the forgiveness that comes in Him to those who spend the time, engage in the work of repentance, and turn fully to Jesus. No justification offered. Just presence and honestly before the Lord. Not judgement and separation, just unity with the one who heals us when we are honest with him.

            For the Christian experience of forgiveness can be something wonderful… if we are honest with the Lord about who we are and how we have fallen short. As we embrace the presence of Jesus ‘with us’ the miracle has space to take that potency from John and work its own miracle of healing in our lives.

William Muehl tells this story that underlines the presence that is possible in this moment. Rather than experiencing separation in our repentance, or placation, even in the pain that these actions can present, we can find peace and unity with the Lord if we linger and notice what is happening.  

            “One December afternoon. . . a group of parents stood in the lobby of a nursery school waiting to claim their children after the last pre-Christmas class session. As the youngsters ran from their lockers, each one carried in [their] hands the ‘surprise,’ the brightly wrapped package on which [they] had been working diligently for weeks. One small boy, trying to run, put on his coat, and wave to his parents, all at the same time, slipped and fell. The ‘surprise’ flew from his grasp, landed on the floor and broke with an obvious ceramic crash. 

            The child. . . began to cry inconsolably. His father, trying to minimize the incident and comfort the boy, patted his head and muttered, ‘Now, that’s all right, son. It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t matter at all.’

            But the boy’s mother, somewhat wiser in such situations, swept the boy into her arms and said, ‘Oh, but it does. It matters a great deal.’ And she wept with her son.”[3]

            This story illustrates that the church has a responsibility to come together and remind each other that the pain that we feel as we examine our sin and our short comings, it matters so much to God and to each other. Let us not minimize this moment but embrace it. 

This moment is not about judgment and/or the separation that comes when we confess or sins. But rather, as the mother took her son in her arms in solidarity, Jesus takes us up in his arms, and He weeps with us as we realize how sinful we are as we abide in God’s presence. He does not pat us on the head and brush us on our way. . .R Rather Jesus, holds us close as we realize how deeply our sin cuts us and wounds our relationship with God and with each other.

            In this way, the potency of John’s message that calls us to repent, calls us to examine ourselves faithfully and fully, and with all the sting that we read about in the text today, it meets the grace of God in the person of Jesus who is with us and who comes to the Jordan to meet John in the gospel, and whose birth we celebrate this season, and He weeps with us as we confess that sin fully. 

Conclusion

            As we prepare to install and ordain Ruling Elders for the class of 2028 and place them in leadership at this church, I hope the message of John will stick with them, and with you. 

            This is not a word that is only to be considered once a year, but it should remain in our hearts and lives. For each day, we need to make the space and create the time to recall John and his message. We need to wonder about where the places and the moments are where we need to repent… and more than just repent, where do we need to extend forgiveness and feel that extension in our lives. 

            For that practice must extend outside of this space and this moment. It must be carried with us from here and touch the lives of others in this community. For Christ was born for all of us. 

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[1] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-of-advent/commentary-on-matthew-31-12  

 

[2] Matthew 3:11 ESV

[3] Feasting on the Word Year A. Volume 1. Page 46. 

Going up--Isaiah 2:1-5. Sermon preached on November 30, 2025

            As we begin Advent for this year, I want to start with a history lesson that dwells behind the text that I read with you. It helps set the table for what we will experience in this season. 

            The history of Isaiah 1-39 is important for the world where Isaiah writes was tense. Assyria, the dominant power of the day decided that they would extend their reach, and their dominance, all the way through the Fertile Crescent, and out into Egypt. Moving through modern day Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon, the Assyrians swept aside everyone who stood in their way. Now they were bearing down on Israel. Their army easily dispatched the Northern Kingdom of Israel’s capital city of Samaria in 700 BC.  

            But as they moved south and conquered, word came from back home—civil war had broken out in Assyria. Unrest at home. So, the Assyrian army packed up and marched itself back home to put down that rebellion before resuming the ultimate goal of conquest into Egypt. 

As the Assyrians pull back from the Southern Kingdom of Judah, we can imagine the feelings of Jerusalem—the capital city. They were rejoicing. They heard what happened up north and we can be sure they were anxious about their future. But God heard their prayers! They were spared. They were saved. Peace! The covenant with Abraham protected them! 

            But in 722 BC, Assyria was back and Jerusalem fell just as quickly as every other city did. Under the Assyrians. 

            Yet for the 22 years between Israel and Judah falling, during the lull in the conquest, the people start hearing and believing that peace was the only option. God would only bring them peace. It is their right as His people. Some might even have whispered: “We deserve this.”

            But like I said, this peace is temporary. 

Move 1- Middle space

And so, the first lesson of Isaiah 2 is that we find the people hearing the text, and maybe ourselves as well on the first Sunday of Advent, dwelling in a liminal space; a middle space. Operating between two poles. 

They don’t know it at this moment, but we the readers do. We know the whole of history around them. Like I said, we know that Assyria will be back soon. We know in 20 years life in Israel will be far worse off than before. Now an angry army will be back to finish what they started. 

            That’s how these things often feel in the moment: like nothing will ever change, like what we see, and what we experience, is the only plausible experience and choice available. Again, in the moment. It’s always going to be this way; our way. Our limited worldview, our limited understanding is the only answer to whatever we see in this very second of our lives and in our work for the Lord. 

            But if in this case that the peace that we are experiencing, is temporary then what we do in the moment, in the day, be the experience good or bad, is also very important. 

How we practice our faith, live out our calling before the Lord, worship God, hold on to what we believe when times are tough, in this time is of great significance. Do we sit idly back and do nothing resting on our senses of spiritual entitlement? Do we reflect on where we have been passively dwelling and not working hard to grow our faith and deepen our discipleship? 

Or using Isaiah 2, and the call to return to the Lord and go up the Mountain of the Lord, do we wonder about how do we could create tools of community building when others around us only seek to divide and not reflect on the presence of Jesus who is with us? 

This becomes important because none of us know at what point things around us will change. We do not know when the middle space that we occupy right now will change and God will call us to come together as the church, as the community, and care for one another in a way or in a ministry that we did not see happening or even being conceived of a short time ago.

            In this middle space, going up the Mountain of the Lord is an act of worship, an act of devotion, it is an invitation to make the time to learn the ways of God once again so that we might Lord continue to grow and be molded by God. 

Move 2- God’s Word

            For as we come to the Mountain of the Lord, we encounter God, in His word. We hear this in verse 3. “For out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.”[1]

            In this middle space, as well as in the space where Assyria is pressing down upon God’s people in time when Isaiah 2 was written, the Word of God, makes the difference for all. Yes, in verse 4 we hear God’s word used by the Lord as the defining tool of judgement, but God’s word also is the instructional tool that helps us grow. God’s word assists us in our practice of discernment as we work hard to change our lives and serve our community faithfully in response to the revelation of God with us.

            For the Word of the Lord makes the difference in the lives of the church—certainly. But the Word of the Lord also makes a difference in all of life of Creation also. God’s word is that strong and that powerful.

            We know that each of us needs the daily instruction from God that is found in His Word. We need it during the hard times, such as we have walked through together over the past month. We need the instruction of God as we now move through advent together and celebrate the welcome to incarnate Son of God who will call us to be different together. 

            We need God’s word to learn from God about how be disciples in our future—wherever that takes. To hear from God takes discipline. 

            Humanity always needs God’s Word and that is why we are called to come to the mountain of God in this text, not just today, but as often as we can, we are called to return to God and to learn from God in His word as we stand before God. 

Now yes, there is judgment here in this text, we cannot deny the power and conviction of the first part of verse 4, but there is also a sense of continual learning and growth taking place here. As God is with us always—in the prosperity, in the suffering, and as the Israelites were dwelling in this text, in the middle space between the Assyrian invasions and the uncertainty that came along with that invasion. 

            Because each of us knows that God’s Word is the light that draws us forward and reminds us, and calls us, to welcome the newborn King.

Move 3- mystery

            Nevertheless, we are going up the mountain of the Lord, we are holding fast the Word of the Lord, yet none of this means that the mystery of this very moment is downplayed. For the citizens of Judah, the people of Jerusalem, those who lived in that middle space of peace, they would experience the return of Assyria. And once again they would suffer. 

            Worshipping God, studying His Word, committing to practices of discipleship, they are crucially important. Here in this space, we will light our candles and sing our carols together in praise. In a few short weeks, we will sing Silent Night and a quiet joy will fill our lives. 

            But that does not mean that one day, each of us will leave our own middle space and face another hard day or hard season. 

            And that is the mystery of the Christian faith. For while living in the lull period when life seems good, it is tempting to think that we, that they, will always live in that place and space. But that is not true and it is not meant to be. Instead, we press into the mystery once again, return, even daily, to the study of God’s word, to the power of it, and the worship that comes up on the Mountain of God knowing how difficult we will find life—at times. 

            However, this conclusion is good. Because the righteous one is coming. The one who teaches us how to be ministers of peace of wholeness is with us. The one who invites us to take another step towards himself and in his life, is with us. We are challenged to live and work knowing this truth is right before us inviting us to be different when the world offers us a challenge: can we find hope in a hopeless place and time. 

Conclusion

These people were not ready for what God might call them to next and so when life changed, they were not ready. I wonder if we are ready to return to God? Return to his word? And find the mystery and hope that God is always with us. 

DM

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[1] Isaiah 2:3 ESV. 

 

Our Thanksgiving Story. . . .

A few days ago, Bethesda came together and we cared for our community. One of the major opportunities that we have to care for our community in this current situation revolves around food. I am excited to see how often 'food' becomes something that links us together as the Body of Christ with our neighbors and friends. 

Long before I came to Bethesda I read an article that talked about how churches who regularly come together and ate were more welcoming and more creative. These churches who gathered around tables for meals were relationally closer. They listened better and, ultimately, they discerned the will of God more faithfully. 

The more opportunities that we have here at Bethesda to gather around food, the more I see this conclusion being proven true. 

For the last month, Bethesda gathered resources, cans of food, boxed food, money to purchase frozen food. We planned and we got excited. Then it was time. The tables went into the parking lot; the tent went up. And as soon as we took our supplies out into the parking lot, our community members were lining up so that we could care for them. One by one we listened to their stories. And we did our best to care for them. 

No one was turned away. Frozen meat. Frozen fruit. Bags of groceries were handed out at a consistent pace to all. My Apple Watch recorded that I walked about 14,000 steps that night yet it felt like I barely took 1 step. 

We listened to everyone and we cared as God calls us to. Hugs were given out. Blessings were offered. Prayers said together. And none of that was possible without the Body of Christ wondering: what is possible in Christ? 

Now I know there is a great deal more need out there than we can handle. We did not feed everyone that night. Within a week the food that we gave out. . . well, it ran out. Families that we helped were only provided for in a short term sense. Yet, for that one night, for that weekend, this church was able to stand before the world and say, 'we are here, and we care for them. They matter to us for they are God's children.' 

I know that you who reading this, you cannot fix all of the problems that you see and that read about. I know that you will get discouraged as easily as I do by the reports that you hear. But let our little story encourage you. Let it invite you to wonder: where could God be at work? 

The King is Coming. Jeremiah 23:1-6. Sermon preached on Christ the King Sunday.

            Perhaps you know what it feels like to be “scattered. . . driven away. . . not attended to?” For the last few weeks, I have talked about these ideas, concepts, feelings. At the end of the liturgical church calendar, we meet them again. Together we lived through these experiences as a church. On Christ the King Sunday, they surface in our text causing us to wonder.  

These are the words and feelings that Jeremiah writes about in chapter 23 to the leaders of Judah living in the Babylonian captivity. They are so far from home—regardless of how ‘home’ is defined by the hearer. 

Jeremiah’s message is written to the failed kings and to the failed religions leaders (both formally and informally placed leaders) of his day. They are also the words written to anyone who falls prey to the temptation of the office of false prophet—anyone who sees what is happening in our world and does not tell the confused, seeking, to “return to the Lord humbly and fully. Seek, and return, to Christ the King.”

            The weeping prophet reminds his audience that when you feel this way, as we have here, God sends someone… someone from the line of David, the righteous Branch, for you. God cares for us in ways that this world cannot.

            On Christ the King Sunday, I want to share with you the words of the 11^th Century Eastern Orthodox Theologian and writer: St. Symeon. He writes these words for us: 

We awaken in Christ’s body

As Christ awakens our bodies, . . . 

For if we genuinely love Him,
we wake up inside Christ's body

where all our body, all over,
every most hidden part of it,
is realized in joy as Him,
and He makes us, utterly, real,

and everything that is hurt, everything
that seemed to us dark, harsh, shameful,
maimed, ugly, irreparably
damaged, is in Him transformed

and recognized as whole, as lovely,
and radiant in His light
he awakens as the Beloved
in every last part of our body.[1]

 

As I read those words, I hear Jeremiah 23. I hear that someone is coming. . . Someone who has seen us suffer. Someone who has watched all that we have been through in our past, and in our struggles today. 

            Someone who has heard us offer justifications for our positions and the rationalizations for our personal beliefs. Someone is coming to redeem us. 

The one who knows how we feel when we are scattered. . . driven away. . . and not attended to. And as we have these feelings, and even when we are guilty of these acts, this person comes to reconcile and to save us. 

            So today, as this Table is set before us. As the bread will be broken and the cup poured soon for you, let us celebrate and honor the One who gathers us, reunites us. Let us be mindful of Christ the King together. 

Move 1- the warning.

            But be warned… This text begins with a word that should bring a practice of introspection to your hearts and lives before I invite you to join me at the Table and celebrate the victory won at this Table. 

            Yes, it is good to know that God will bring us home because Christ the King invites us here. But before we come to the Table, each of us should pause and consider how we are guilty of verse 2. Not just in a general sense, but truly pause and deeply wonder, in a very personal sense:

            What does it look like to personally scatter? Jeremiah here is speaking about the idea of forced, purposeful dispersion—like global repopulation after the Flood. The verb occurred in that place also. Where has that happened in your life? What does it feel like if it has happened to you? 

What about to drive away? To take someone, or a group, and divide them away from the rest of the community when they normally might belong to that same community? For each member of the Body of Christ knows something about the choice and action necessary to drive someone away. 

The final sin in verse 2 is the most painful to consider: to not attend to… In this case the verb is always used to speak in a covenantal way between God and humanity. But as Jeremiah employs it, there is a NOT here. So, in this case Jeremiah invites us to look at ourselves and ask: where have we a broken covenant between the church and… someone else? 

Heavy stuff to consider on Christ the King Sunday. But it is necessary work for us to begin with, and we gaze toward the Table which is set here. 

            This is also what Paul tells us to consider before we come to this very table. It was part of his communion liturgy in 1 Corinthians 11. And as I have said already, the people who heard Jeremiah 23 read to them by the mouthpiece of Jeremiah, they were instructed to wonder about this themselves. 

Move 2- the fold

            After we take a moment to think about the places and the instances where we are guilty of these self-centered choices, we should look at how the fold is better because each of us is here. We should recall the truth that the fold, the church, is better for we are and as we come together, even in our poor choices, Christ the King is working to restore His church. 

            For the fold, together as it is now under, and with, Christ the King, multiplies and does good work in the name of the Lord. Even if the fold, as it was in Jeremiah 23, lives in exile. For in this confessional moment, we grow stronger because the bond of confession unites us together. Christ the King, unifies us as the Church together. It is His good work that we participate in. 

That good work refers to the testimonial words that St. Symeon spoke about earlier—testimonial of how Christ is in all of us—not in some of us. 

Healing us. Partnering with. Calling us onward. It is the testimonial that Christ took what is broken in each of us, painful as it is to see, Christ took all the hurt and all the separation and he restored us by placing us in his very self. He took us by the hand and brought us into wholeness with God. Christ the King, took us, even when we felt like exiles, and brought us home again. 

            The shepherd cared for the flock—just as Jeremiah 23 illustrates in verse 3. The flock grows; it multiplies, it prospers in Christ because that is God’s will for His flock. 

Move 3- 

            This affirmation, and the confessional act before that, lead us to the truth that Christ the King is coming to continue to heal and restore us when we find ourselves scattering, dividing, and not attending to others who are around us. 

Christ the King comes if we are also the ones who have felt the effects of this division happening in our lives as well. 

For He is here. And as he is here, Jesus deals fairly and justly with us. He strengthens us and makes us whole in ways that we do not always see as they prepare to happen and take shape. Because we are honest and open with God and each other, space is created where we God operate around us. 

Conclusion 

            So now we come to the Table of the Lord let us bring all that we are all to God. Let us come acknowledging all that we have dealt with, and where we have been. And in doing so, let us also affirm that Christ the King is with us always. 

 

DM

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[1] https://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/S/SymeontheNew/Weawakenin/index.html  accessed on November 18, 2025. 

 

A Promise Coming- Isaiah 65:17-25. Sermon preached on November 16, 2025

            “Unlimited or misplaced vengeance pervades our societies. . .  and [it] always has.”[1] This has been the same daily story, the same lived experience, that we deal with since the beginning of our story as a people. When we have the option to locate, or create, a different story, we do not easily do so. We would often prefer something different, but today’s text asks us to think differently.  

            This choice, the choice of vengeance upon other which leads to a personal type of suffering, is also the story that God’s children lived with, and lived through, since the time of Abraham.

It is the story of the Israelites during the time where Isaiah wrote to the exiles as he concludes his book. 

And it is also our story today as we move closer to Advent and the celebratory work of the incarnation—even if our hearts are fresh off the work of memory as the Body of Christ. 

            So, I wonder, what is there each day that we can take hold of to find hope? To locate hope? 

            Isaiah 65 has that word for us. And rather than offer this word just as something ‘out there’ or even in Advent, which comes sooner than we think. Perhaps this hope is a thing that we can reach out towards and grasp. A lived change that no one might see coming, but a change that will lead us toward Christ the King? 

            The word that Isaiah has for us begins powerfully with something that only God can do. This passage begins where everything began… Creative Creation. 

Move 1- Creative work

            The creative work begins with the Lord first. And in this affirmation, we instance where God encourages us to find, and practice, hope.

            Historically the exiles who read Isaiah’s words have been through a great deal and so any practice where hope is called out, or called forth, would be challenging. Just as it would be for us. Yet the prophet asks them to put their faith into practice in spite of what they are dealing with on a daily basis and believe. 

Isaiah accesses the people’s hope in the same way that God draws us towards himself in relationship… in creation.

            The creative work here from the prophet is attributed to the voice of the Lord solely and totally. God does this work. Only God creates in this way. The word that captures this is “bara.” It is the word that opens the Holy Scriptures. And while human authors will write it, no human can create like this. For “in the beginning God created…” Again only God creates in this way. 

            Unlike ‘asah’ (to make or do) or ‘yatsar’ (to form… like the potter who works the clay and forms something from the clay), ‘bara’ never takes a human subject. ‘Bara’ is not our word. You and I cannot ‘bara’ anything. It is God’s word only and always. This is God’s work, as it is God’s word alone. God’s prerogative. Rooting all subsequent anthropology, morality, and stewardship in God’s authorship—not ours.[2]

            “Bara” does not, for instance, take a few eggs, maybe a bit of milk, some cheese and ham, maybe a nice pepper or two, and then make a nice omelete for breakfast as you and I might have done this morning. That is not an act of ‘bara.’

“Bara” takes nothing and out of nothing… ‘behold, I create new heavens a new earth’ says the Lord.  

Creation taking place. A place where there was weeping and mourning because the exiles had been through so much. Lost so much. Suffered so much. Relationally doubted that God was ever going to hear their prayers. Care for them. Provide for them. Come back to them. This was the place where that was natural, expected, anticipated, the place where these people (much like you or I could dwell and live each day) and it becomes a place of rejoicing. Something new coming back to them… to us. 

            Creative acts. From places where nothing existed before. Not creation as transformation. Like eggs becoming breakfast. 

            This is how our text began and God says, ‘I am doing something new, different, exciting. Transformational. Because this is what I do because you and I are in relationship and I will not leave you, even if the evidence that you see each day makes you think that I am gone or a long way off.’ 

            God wishes to create something new, and in fact IS, creating something new for us that will bless and bring us home.  

Move 2- 

            And you can see how this creative place, this place where God uses, ‘bara,’ this becomes the place, the moment, where in verse 25 something that is not natural, something that is not possible under normal circumstances becomes possible. This is the place, and the moment, where we see the promise of Christ presented yet again in the words of Isaiah. 

The wolf and the lamb together. The lion and the ox eating together. The dust being the serpent’s food. Normally these things are not possible; unexpected. But in the new place that God creates for us and with us… it is possible. For with God all things are possible—even if we think we dwell in a place of exile and suffering. Even as we think that God no longer listens and vengeance and separation are the order of the day. 

God has chosen not to leave us alone.  

For as chapter 65 began, God wonders if His people will choose to dwell close by Him? Will they remain close enough so that he can transform them yet again? 

God states that He is here. It is the reverse of the call of Isaiah from chapter 6 where God wonders who will go for Him. Whom shall I send? Who will go for us? At that time Isaiah said, ‘I am here send me.”

Now God is saying I am here, who will return to me and find that I have not moved. For God is faithful. God is steadfast. And in both God’s faithfulness and steadfastness, we once again find a reason and place to hope and trust in Him.  

We are being asked to come home to God. Return to the creative place that God makes for us. 

            This is where the prophet, as the mouthpiece of God, gives us the messianic word in our text. A word that we will consider and remember in a few short weeks. 

For where else could this creative work take shape outside of God and God’s creative acts and movements? Where else do we find hope like this outside of God and God’s presence? 

Where else but in God do we find reconciliation and hope taking shape when so much of the discourse, and so much of the daily experience that we live with is vengeance, pain, suffering? Where else expect in, and with, the creative God who is at work all around us in places and moments where the worldly evidence suggests that this is not so. 

            In those moments and places God says, ‘I am creating something new for you where you will find space to rejoice and believe yet again that I am with you preparing to do something that will heal and restore you for that is my nature and that is the nature of our relationship. 

Move 3- Banah

            And this creative work, though, does not stop with God… it extends into partnership with us. 

            For two verses of this text stand out as partnering verses in this work: verses 21 & 22. The wording that sticks out is: “to build.”

            On the surface the wording of these two verses could sound like the opposite of what Babylon did to the Israelite people. For at a first glace the verse seems to state that we going to spread out and build and build and get bigger and bigger. But when we look deeply at what God says through Isaiah’s words, we once again find a far richer idea that links back up with the creative acts of God that are taking place. 

            The people hearing Isaiah 65, like you and I today, we are not only going to physically build these things (vineyards & houses), but this word underscores a sense of care and concern that is much deeper and longer lasting. When used in other places in God’s word, this idea underscores a sense child rearing and building and watching over a family. Lovingly. Deeply. Compassionately. 

            Not hording fruit—to use Isaiahs’ imagery. 

            Not building a house bigger than my neighbors so they might become envious of me or being to think that I look better than them. 

            Instead, once again this is building as an act of creative, but this time the creative act is one of caring. 

            So yet again, the care of God, the creative care of God, the promise of God care for us, leads back into nature and presence of one who is coming in a few short weeks for us. Even through all we deal with and all we struggle against; God is with us. 

Conclusion 

            God keeps his promises to us. As the Lord did in the life of the Israelites. While the children of Israel may have wondered for a great while if God was indeed going to be faithful and care for them, that did not stop the Lord from creatively working in their lives when they wondered if God was still present or active. 

            And so, as we continue to care for our community, and wonder about our choices of faithfulness in this community, the question comes for us: can we see the promise of God coming? The promise is creative. And the promise calls us to be partner with him in the work.  

 

DM

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[1] Marylynne Robinson. 

 

[2] All exegetical work came from www.biblehub.com. 

Won't you be my neighbor?

When I was part of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, a formative time of my academic year, I always had my eye on graduation. Not terribly surprising I am sure. Every student looks forward to the time when their classwork is done and the move to the part of the work. Well, as that time came closer and closer I learned that each graduating class selects their own commencement speaker.  

My class wanted to aim high; aim as high as we could. And so as I came to the meetings, I was surprised to hear how high we sought to go...  

We first wondered who was the highest ranking Presbyterian in our government. At the time it was Condoleezza Rice, who served as 66th Secretary of State. Her father was a Presbyterian Minister from Alabama. Doubting she would be accessible or able to speak to our class during commencement, we looked elsewhere.  

The next person in line was a famous alumni of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, and on National Cardigan Day, I have been thinking about him a lot: Fred Rogers. I enjoyed his television show as a boy with my family. 

Mr. Rogers was often the selection to speak at PTS graduations. I do not know how often he was to speak to the graduates based on his work with PBS. But his influence on my life, and on the life of an entire generation, cannot be denied. 

As Bethesda prepares to handout turkeys again this next week I was reminded of something that Mr. Rogers once said in the face of a hard world: "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." 

These words came from Fred's mother as young Fred watched the news and was afraid of what he saw and heard reported by the anchors. Her wise words spoke to him about how to change his perspective and look for something positive when everyone around him saw only the negative and the deficit. This was a lesson that he would seek to pass on to generations of children who watched his show and saw those cardigans zipped up each day and a new song was sung to them.  

This is also the challenge that the church should be seeking to adopt as well. 

Find the helpers. Be the helpers. And together we can help move the change the world out into the community where God sends us. It is not always easy but as Mr. Rogers reminds us, if we look, we can see people who are helping. And I wonder, if we might join in the work of helping in this community?  

Inheritance--Ephesians 1:11-23. Sermon preached on November 9th, 2025 as we honored All Saints Day

             In a few minutes we will once again participate in the work of memory. . . memory on multiple levels. 

            Every Sunday as we come together in the larger context and shape of worship, we are remembering important teachings from Jesus, and we also remembering how they shape our relationship with God. Memory is behind much of what we do in worship—we remember where God has taken us from and where God carries us to and towards. 

            Yet today we are also remembering the table which is set before us. 

These elements of bread and the cup, they also bring to mind the sacrifice of our Savior in vivid details. In themselves, the bread and the cup, they tell us the story of his love and of his suffering, death, and resurrection. These simple elements also whisper to us about our hope for our future. They speak about God’s reconciliatory work that is accomplished in Christ Jesus. 

            But they are not the only symbols which sit before us. 

For we are also here to remember something/someone else. 

For every one of us, those physically in this space, those watching at home live, and those watching at a later date, we recall those who are not with us any longer. 

This is another act of memory that is crucially important in the context of worship. Those lives speak to us, and even if they did not worship here, or directly teach us any lessons of faith that we share with our families and our children, they tell us something about the Lord and, again, his reconciliatory, healing, work in Christ Jesus. 

So, as we participate in the All-Saints memorial soon, we remember our friends, our family, our loved ones who have entered the Church Triumphant. Even if they are not on THIS year’s list. . . they are on OUR list. 

            Memory. It is something that Paul speaks about in Ephesians 1 to us and to the church in the city of Ephesus. The Apostle does this with a few key terms and phrases. I want to draw you attention to them now. 

Move 1- Inheritance. 

            The first of those terms is: Inheritance. Before he invites the church to remember Paul pulls their eyes, he draws their eyes, forward to that which God promises to give the church.  

But this is not just a promised reward that is given to the faithful people or to a faithful church only—that would be good, and I would like that. This inheritance is more than something that we can deposit or count. Only occurring in the New Testament generally in this one verse, Paul has a deeper theological understanding that he wishes to convey to the pluralistic community of Ephesus for inheritance. 

“Th[is] verb underscores the believer’s secure place in God’s redemptive purpose, portraying salvation as an “inherit[ed] appointment” accomplished in Christ.”[1]

That’s a mouthful, but it is truth that we cannot deny. 

            Because we are unified with Christ, linked with Christ in a bond at our conversion, the believer is held secure with the Lord always and forever. This has been promised upon in the Old Testament by God, taught to us in Jesus in the gospel, and as Paul writes to the Christians in Ephesus, it is our source of future hope today. 

For our presence and our relationship with Christ is neither an accident nor a casual thing. We were, and we are, chosen by God. It is our inherited place that persists regardless of the daily circumstances—long after trials and struggles. We are in Christ, and we are chosen by God—as are the people who God calls you to care for, to serve, and to love. 

            We remember our inheritance as we remember the Table before us and those who are now resting, and celebrating, with the Lord. As we have this inheritance to fall back on, to rest in at a future date, it is our calling to share this good news with others and to help them learn of it, so that they can build their own relationship with Christ Jesus.  

Move 2- memory

            Inheritance is one concept that Paul spoke about in our text today and it is profound. But I want to remind you of a second one: Memory.

            Memory serves an additional purpose that helps reinforce and remind us of our inheritance that is promised and delivered upon because we are in Christ. 

Besides being theological for Paul in nature and reminding us of our union in Christ as the Church, and besides reminding us of our relationship with God that endures throughout the generations, and of the work that God did to choose, memory has an active position and purpose that we see at work here. 

            For Paul, the memory that he speaks about to the church at Ephesus is positive. 

Paul’s work of memory takes the shape and structure of positive memories when it would be possible, and perhaps permissible, to only dwell on the negative—a task and position that we see often around us. 

Paul thanks the Lord for all the good things, good moments and wonderful blessings that he has witnessed in the life of the Ephesians where ministry is being done for the glory and honor of God. This is not an easy task for Ephesus was a city where Jesus was taught but so was every other faith and religion—some to a higher level and passion than God. 

            It would be easy to let that news cause our shoulders to slump a bit; to think that this (whatever this is) that it won’t work here… in this context. But the Ephesians do not do this, and Paul thanks the Lord that he was able to witness it firsthand. 

            Dwelling on the negative, remembering the negative, that is a very 21^st century thing to do. As you know, we see this happening in so many places and with so many people. 

            Without a posture of gratefulness as a church, and as individuals in the church, we lose our way and our memory of how good God has been for us fades. 

We lose our focus, and we lose our sense of calling in the Lord. We lose our way when we are not grateful in the work of memory that we do. Memory is a crucial part of what we do today at our All-Saints Day memorial and at the Table for the two services are linked the memories that we have of Jesus breaking bread and pouring the cup.

And memory is also what we will do at Bethesda over the next 2 days as we help a pair of families remember. . . 
Conclusion

            Memory and inheritance are why we need to come time and again to moments like this as a church. I hope that as we continue, and as you hear the names, and partake of the sacrament your memories of a faithful God, a God who has given you a great inheritance, will bubble up. And as they do, perhaps this will be the time when you can that blessing with someone else. 

  

DM

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[1] https://biblehub.com/greek/2820.htm