From college and campus ministry, through seminary, and into parish ministry, I became increasingly aware of the damage done by some theologies within the church: specifically, the "Believe in Jesus or to go Hell" theologies. Knowing people who turned away from the church and from God because they'd been lambasted by such theologies, I decided to address those beliefs head on and look deeply at scripture, rather than simply ignore the tricky passages.
My goal was and is to bring healing to folks who have been harmed by those older, even foundational theologies, and to help free people from those theologies - people who don't believe in "believe in Jesus or go to Hell", but also don't know how they can't believe in them without ignoring much of scripture.
May you find peace and healing in the pages of this book, and may you help bring that healing to others.
The Rev. Brad Sullivan Lord of the Streets, Houston March 15, 2026 4 Lent 1 Samuel 16:1-13 Psalm 23
John 9:1-41
Dang it, but I really don’t like when things go the way I don’t want them to go. I get that it’s not my world and I’m not in charge of everything, but if things in my life would go the way I want them to, and if things in other people’s lives would go the way I want them to, and if things in the world would go the way I want them to, I would be so much more pleased. Life would be perfect, right, if only God would listen to me and respond exactly as I want God to?
That would kind of make me God’s master which is a little bit problematic. Ok, that’s completely problematic. If I’m in charge of the way God runs the world, then I’ve really taken God’s place so I’m essentially God over everyone else, and yeah, that’s hugely problematic, because I don’t think anyone really wants me as God over them. I certainly don’t want anyone else to be God over me, and I also really don’t want to be God at all. I mean, I definitely want things to go the way I want them to go, but I really don’t want to be in charge of everything.
We human-type people tend not to be particularly good at playing God. Dictators, tyrants, warlords, they all try to force the world to go how they want it to, and they usually end up killing a bunch of people and bringing a lot of misery into world. Captains of industry, and ultra-wealthy business leaders are others who tend to try to make far too much of the world bend to their will, and while there’s a lot of money to be made, there’s usually a lot of people suffering because of the vast wealth made by a few.
Addicts are another group of people that tend to try to force the world go as they want it to go, and it tends to work pretty terribly for them too. Then, since the world is so terribly disobedient to the addict’s desires, they drink or use drugs at the world. “You won’t do what I want, world? Well I’ll show you!”
Like I said, we human-type people tend not to be particularly good as playing God. Saul, the first king of Israel, tried playing God, and unsurprisingly, it worked out pretty badly for him. Saul was in a war against the Philistines, and when he and the people of Israel saw how huge the Philistine army was, they were terrified.
God had told Saul that he was with him and not to worry about threats from others, but when Saul saw the people of Israel retreating in fear, he decided to make a sacrifice to God, rather than waiting for Samuel to do it. That wasn’t good. Saul wasn’t the one who was supposed to make sacrifices. Samuel was. So, this meant that Saul was trusting in the sacrifice, rather than trusting in God. Saul was putting himself in God’s place, trying to force things to go how he wanted them to go, rather than letting go of things he couldn’t control. He couldn’t control when Samuel arrived, so a faithful response would have been to offer prayers to God, placing the outcome in God’s hands, rather than trying to force God to give them victory through sacrifice.
Saul was trying to control God, therefore trying to put himself in God’s place, so after a few more incidences like that, God rejected Saul as king.
Then, it was Samuel’s time to be tempted to play God. Samuel was grieving over the rejection of Saul as king, grieving over the many ways Saul had failed as king. God grieved for a time as well, sorry that he had made Saul king over Israel. Before long, though, God was ready to move on. God wanted Samuel to go anoint the new king of Israel, and Samuel was still grieving. “How long will you grieve over Saul?” God asked. “I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil, and set out” to anoint the one I will show you to be the new king over Israel.
In other words, God was saying to Samuel, ‘Let it go, man. I’ve got other plans. New life will spring up from this death. Don’t fight it. Go with it into an unknown future, trusting that I am with you in this.’
It is a bit much to say Samuel was trying to play God in his grief over Saul, and at the same time, God did need to remind him to let the past go and move forward into an uncertain future. Saul was mourning for an imagined future with Saul as king. Whatever he thought that future was, it was suddenly gone.
I’m guessing most of us have mourned the loss of many imagined futures throughout our lives. We lose a job, and the future we thought we had is suddenly gone. A family member or friend dies, and a future of life with them is gone. We get attacked or beaten, and the future we thought we had is now darkened with fear and trauma. Our nation goes to war, and any number of possible futures are all thrown into chaos.
Any time those things happen, we’re going to mourn the loss of those possible and imagined futures. Of course we do, and I figure God mourns with us, loving us as God does. Our challenge is not to stay there, grieving the loss of the future we thought we might have. When we stay forever in that place of grief and will not let go of that imagined future, we are in that place like Samuel where we’re not exactly playing God, but we kinda are because we refuse to let go of what we have lost, longing for something that cannot be. “If only this had happened or that had happened. If only God had done what I wish he had done, things would have gone differently.” That’s when we do get into the, “I could have done this better,” territory, and we are kind of longing to take God’s place.
So, God says to us what God said to Samuel, “Let it go. I’ve got other plans now. We are people of resurrection, so new life will spring up from this death. You don’t need to fight it. Go with me into an unknown future, trusting that I am with you.’
Another way that we want to play God is when we sorrow at the loss of a longed for past. “In my day, we didn’t do things like…” whatever old people complain about, and yes, I am sometimes one of the old people who complains about how things are nowadays. Sometimes we lament that we just don’t this new generation, or that people aren’t doing things right. Kids are too noisy. Kids are too quiet. They should go outside and play more. What are all these kids doing running around outside, don’t they have parents? The schools aren’t right. The music isn’t right. People didn’t used to do things like that, or at least they’d be decent enough to be ashamed about it.
Jesus healed a blind man, and that seems like it’s obviously a good thing, right? Unless you were some of the religious folks back in the day when Jesus healed that blind man, and then you had complaints. Jesus shouldn’t have healed you, they said. For one thing, this is the wrong day to heal people, and for another thing, we’ve never heard of anything like this before. That’s startlingly close to, “In my day, we didn’t heal people on Saturday. We’d rest and let ‘em suffer it out till Sunday, like good God-fearing people. And another thing, any decent person would know you can’t have your sight restored if you’re born blind. I just don’t understand you kids these days. You must be a really terrible person for Jesus to have restored your sight.”
The religious leaders wanted the past that they knew and understood to continue on, unchanged. God seemed nice and orderly in that past. The rules made sense, and they were on the right side of those rules. Now with this new stuff that this carpenter’s kid was doing, performing miracles like they hadn’t seen before and even healing on the Sabbath, their comfortable past was turned upside down.
We’ve continued with challenges like this in the church, and very often when some seemingly new thing is happening in the church, groups of folks don’t like it, and there’s a split as one group stays with the ways things were and one group goes with this seemingly new thing God is doing. In the Episcopal Church, we’ve had changes such as the new prayer book: it’s 47 years old, almost half a century, but there are some folks who still won’t use it because it’s the new prayer book.
We’ve had changes about things like allowing for a person to get married again after that person has been divorced; it’s only been 53 years since that change was made. A year after that change, we began ordaining women as bishops, priests, and deacons, and more recently, we have allowed homosexual people fully to participate in the life of the church.
Each of these changes has turned the church upside down for some and been a moment of Jesus healing the blind man for others. Each of these changes has left people mourning an imagined future in which things hadn’t changed, and each of these changes has left people mourning the loss of a longed-for past.
Through these and a thousand other changes throughout the life of the church, we have always sought to remain faithful to Jesus, and through people’s upset and struggle, longing for the past or mourning the loss of an imagined future, Jesus has been with us saying, “Let it go. I’ve got other plans now. We are people of resurrection, and new life will spring up from this death. So you don’t need to fight it. Go with me into an unknown future, trusting that I am with you.”
For each of us personally as well, our futures often die, and our pasts cease to be. As much as we may want it at the time, none of us are God to force our way onto the world, and so God tells us, “Let it go. Mourn for a time, but let it go. We are people of resurrection, and I have other plans now. New life will spring up from this death, so stop fighting it. Go with me into an unknown future, trusting that I am with you.”
The Rev. Brad Sullivan Lord of the Streets, Houston March 8, 2026 3 Lent Exodus 17:1-7 Psalm 95 John 4:5-42
Don’t you just love it when your enemies get what’s coming to them? It’s like a delicious meal of deserved justice served with vengeance pie topped with self-righteous ice cream. It’s great. I love it when the bad guys fall and the really terrible people get exactly what they deserve. Enemies getting their comeuppance makes my little black heart sing.
Then, the rest of me starts feeling pretty rotten, actually. That part of me that sings at other people’s misfortune ends up making the rest of me rather sick. Rejoicing at my enemies’ downfall may feed my cold little black heart, but it feeds my heart poison and grows in me like a cancer.
It’s said that we are what we eat, and that is true of our spiritual food as well. Junk food and desert taste great, and when that’s all we eat, our bodies suffer. They stop working well. We end up with diabetes, and cancer, and heart disease, and even depression and anxiety can get worse from a bad diet.
When we feed our hearts and souls with junk food, our hearts and souls become unhealthy as well. Vengeance, delighting when our enemies are hurt, that’s like really bad junk food for our souls. Think about what that diet really looks like: anger; rage; happiness that others are hurting, that’s cruelty. We can’t really be healthy and happy people when we feed ourselves on cruelty. We can’t be healthy and happy people when we delight in people’s suffering, even the suffering of our enemies.
See, the more we eat of people’s suffering, the more we want that food, which means we end up wanting people to suffer. So, even though our enemies might deserve suffering, when we delight in their suffering, we end up becoming cruel people.
Another problem with delighting in our enemies’ suffering is that we let ourselves focus on them, rather than ourselves. If they are bad and are getting what’s coming to them, I don’t need to look at ways I harm people. It’s still there, though, festering and eating us up from the inside. So, it grows in the dark, like mold, like fungus, rotting us from the inside.
So, Jesus offers us different food. When he met the woman at the well, he told her he would give her water welling up within her to eternal life. Then Jesus talked to his disciples, telling them that the food he has to eat is doing the will of God.
Well, what was the will of God that Jesus kept doing throughout his ministry? Healing people. Healing communities. Showing people a better way than the way of vengeance, a better way than the way of fighting and being against one another.
When the woman at the well asked Jesus which mountain was the correct one to worship God, he told her, neither was the correct mountain. The time is coming, Jesus said, when people will worship God neither on one mountain or the other, but they will worship God in spirit and in truth.
So, what’s with the two mountains? They were the mountain on which the temple was built in Jerusalem and mount Gerizim in Samaria. The people of Israel and the people of Samaria were bitter enemies, so the argument over which mountain was the correct place to worship God was really an argument about which people God loved and which people God didn’t love.
So, when she asked which mountain was the best mountain, Jesus told her that folks would worship God neither on the mountain in Samaria, nor the mountain in Jerusalem. Instead, people would worship God in spirit and in truth. That sounds to me like all people get to worship God, regardless of which nation you belong to. That sounds to me like no more quarreling over whose mountain is correct, and if they stopped fighting over which mountain was correct, then they’d no longer be enemies. They’d no longer delight in one another’s suffering
The food that Jesus offers is for each of us as individual people, and the food that Jesus offers goes far beyond individual healing. Jesus offers food that grows into healing among communities and even healing among nations. A community and a nation full of peaceful, loving, compassionate people is a community and a nation that will spread that same peace, love, and compassion to others.
Now, this is not about turning a nation into a Christian nation. Jesus wasn’t preaching to kings and rulers. Jesus wasn’t calling for a religious conversion of governments. Jesus wasn’t talking about forcing his way on others. Jesus was speaking to a woman at a well and to his disciples. Jesus spoke to the masses, to the people. Jesus met with religious leaders. Jesus wasn’t taking over a nation’s government to force change from the top town. Jesus healed and taught people the way of love to change lives and communities from the ground up. That’s things grow after all, from the ground up.
The food that Jesus offers feeds us in ways that lead away from bitterness, anger, and cruelty and into peace, love, and compassion. The food of taking delight in our enemies’ suffering, decays our bodies and souls, making us bitter, angry, and cruel. The food Jesus offers feeds our bodies and souls with eternal life, making us peaceful, loving, and compassionate.
A community and a nation full of peaceful, loving, compassionate people is a community and a nation that will spread that same peace, love, and compassion to others. That peace, love, and compassion doesn’t spread through force feeding it, but by offering it and living it. When Jesus offered this food & water to the woman at the well, she wanted it.
She ran to tell others to come and see a man who, “who told me everything I’ve ever done.” All Jesus actually said was that she’d had five husbands and the man she was with wasn’t her husband. Rather than dismissing this woman as sinful for having five husbands, let’s ask ourselves, “Why?” Only men could sue for divorce, so she hadn’t left her husbands; they had dismissed her. Why?
Well, we don’t really know why five husbands had all sent her away, but we can guess that it left her feeling hurt and ashamed, probably bitter and resentful too. It could be a shameful thing to be dismissed by one husband, others wondering, “What’s wrong with her?” She’d been dismissed by five, so it’s a good bet she felt deep shame, like she was no good and unlovable.
Then, Jesus talked to her, not like damaged goods but like a fully important, beloved human. “If he only knew,” she probably thought. Then, she found out that he did know, and he wasn’t shaming her or treating her like a lesser human. That was healing for her. That was the food and water Jesus offered, welling up in her to eternal life.
The woman went from eating the bread of shame, bitterness, and resentment, to eating and drinking the love of God, the eternal life given by Jesus. Peace, love, and compassion was the food Jesus gave her, revealing the truth of her life, so she was no longer bound by it. There she was, fully exposed, and God was still calling her beloved. That’s being naked and unashamed, as we were created to be in Eden, in the beginning.
From there, the woman spread his message to others, bringing them to Jesus so he could feed them as well, the food Jesus offers growing from the ground up. That what Jesus calls us to do, to offer the same bread and water of peace, love, and compassion, to offer the same healing and eternal life we have be given to others. We’re reminded again and again to stick to this diet as well.
As much as delighting in our enemies’ downfall is juicy and delicious (and it is delicious), it is also cancerous, harmful food which rots us from the inside out. Set aside that food. Offer it to God. “Here, Lord, accept my offering to you of my anger, fear, resentment, desires for vengeance. Accept my offering to you of the cruelty in my heart. Then, please feed me with your peace. Feed me with your love. Feed me with your compassion. Amen.”
