New Heavens & A New Earth: Some Beautiful Nonsense

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
April 20, 2025
Easter Sunday, C
Isaiah 65:17-25
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Luke 24:1-12

“I am about to create new heavens and a new earth,” God said in Isaiah 65. “Be glad and rejoice forever.” Jesus was raised from the dead, and we saw something of this new heavens and new earth. Life that is not ended in death. Death that has lost its terror because death has become a gateway from life to life. Such is the new heavens and the new earth that God promises and gives us a glimpse of on Easter, with Jesus’ resurrection.

To some, it may sound like nonsense. Sometimes even to me it sounds like nonsense, except that God creating something new is the story throughout scripture, a story of hope. New heavens and a new earth sounds like hope, hope rooted in God’s creative love for us and for all that God has made. “Behold,” Jesus says in Revelation 21:5, “Behold, I am making all things new.” 

So, the new heavens and the new earth are what God has in mind for humanity, which sounds amazing. The idea of a new heavens and a new earth is captivating for humanity, so much so that we have countless sci-fi films about living on other planets and what the mysteries of the galaxies may hold. We’ve been to the moon, sent a probe out beyond our solar system, and we’ve had robots land on Mars so we can explore the mysteries of our neighboring planet. 

Now, we even have talk of people colonizing Mars. There are ideas of setting up bases where people can live, and there are even ideas of eventually terraforming the planet to make it habitable for people. Those are the dreams of some of humanity, that our new heavens and new earth will be the red planet. Ok, on the one hand, that sounds really, really cool: making a whole new planet where people can live and getting to travel there on a spaceship. That’s like all of the coolest sci-fi movies. 

On the other hand, however, colonizing Mars as a new planet for humanity to live on, sounds like nonsense to me, not because it’s not possible. I’m sure it’s possible to colonize a dead planet and make it habitable for humans. I mean, we live in Houston where we have about one and three-quarters seasons throughout the year, so I figure we can make just about any place habitable. 

The idea of making Mars a new earth for humanity sounds like nonsense to me because we’re already wrecking the earth we’ve got. The idea that after the Earth is wrecked, humanity will have another place to go, a new paradise for humanity that we’ve created on Mars, nonsense. That truly does sound like science fiction. Colonizing Mars is nonsense because of the almost certain reality that the only people who would get to go to this new earth, this new paradise, are the extremely rich and those with skills necessary for them to survive. 

That’s how things tend to work on this earth already. The extremely wealthy have more than they need for many lifetimes, while in the same economy, others work hard, remain in poverty, and become homeless. So, humanity’s idea of a new heaven and new earth is probably gonna follow the same pattern.

God making a new heaven and a new earth, however, means God is making something truly different. Some rabbis understood this new heaven and new earth to mean that God was bringing about a new social and world order: new rulers in the heavens, new rulers on earth, rulers who would follow in the ways of justice, mercy, and love. 

We seem to have had a taste of that in the early church, a new order with new leaders. The first apostles in the church, the first people Jesus appeared to after his resurrection, were women. “Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them” were the first apostles in the church, and they went to the male disciples of Jesus and told them that Jesus had been raised from the dead. A new way, with women as the first apostles and the men becoming apostles too, although, when the men heard what the Mary and apostles had to say, their “words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.” 

Now, that part sounds less like new heavens and a new earth and more just like the status quo, but things were different for a while. There were early churches that were led by women, and in the earliest days of the church, we did see people living together in harmony, caring for one another, not seeing the privileged as blessed and the poor as burdens. For a while, there was something new in the church. It didn’t last, but it was a taste, a taste of things to come. 

Jesus rose from the grave as a promise to us all that life does not end in death, but there is new life after death. There is something new, something beautiful, something truly to hope for, and not just for the rich and powerful among humanity. God’s new heavens and new earth are something truly new, truly different, where justice, mercy, and love truly are the ways we live. That new heavens and new earth of justice, mercy, and love, that is the resurrection life that Jesus promised us when he was raised from the tomb. 

God became human as Jesus of Nazareth. He preached justice, mercy, and love. He healed people and lived justice, mercy, and love. Because of that humanity decided we needed to kill him, and as we did, Jesus said, “Father, forgive them.” When God became human, we killed him, and God said, “I forgive you,” and I am going to show you the beginning of a new heavens and a new earth.

I realize that like colonizing Mars, that may sound like nonsense, because it’s hard to wrap our minds around, but a friend of mine named Carrie wrote, “even if you will never be able to wrap your mind around the Resurrection, Easter is the promise that impossibly good things can happen after (and even in the midst of) terribly bad things. Terribly bad things are happening…right now, everywhere. We do nonsensical things like dye chicken eggs that somehow are associated with a rabbit. None of these things make sense, but neither does Easter. The world is completely upside down right now. [We] could use the promise of some nonsense that maybe, every valley will be exalted and every mountain and hill made low,” that there will be new heavens and a new earth, a new life that will never end, a life of justice, mercy, and love. 

Unflinching Self-Honesty and a Life Well-Lived

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

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

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

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

“Well, yeah,” the people thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope,” Jesus said. Rather than bring death, Jesus transformed death into life.

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
October 20, 2024
Proper 24, B
Isaiah 53:4-12
Psalm 91:9-16
Mark 10:35-45

So, there’s an election coming up in a few weeks, and yes, I am encouraging you all to vote, and no, I’m not encouraging anyone to vote in any particular way. I’m bringing up the election because it is once again rather contentious, hotly contested, and there’s this feeling in the air of, “Holy Dear Lord Almighty Sweet Baby Jesus, if the right side doesn’t win, then the Kingdom of God will be destroyed, and Jesus will never return.”
 
That is, of course, not the case. Neither side winning is going to bring about the destruction of the Kingdom of God. The election may be important, but it ain’t that important. Not even the gates of Hell can prevail against the Kingdom of God, and the president and congress of the United States, as much power as they may wield, aren’t powerful enough to destroy or bring about God’s kingdom.
 
Our hope is not in whoever becomes president. As Jesus pointed out to his disciples in our Gospel lesson today, our hope is not in any human power or position. Our hope is in Jesus, in the unity with God and one another which Jesus has forged. The Word of God which spoke creation into existence became human, fully uniting humanity and divinity. God and humans are one, and nothing, not even a bad president can separate that unity.  
 
So, despite the terrible angst and seemingly large stakes of the upcoming election, our hope is in Jesus’ victory. His is the victory and power not of human governments, not of domination, or enforcing his will. Jesus’ victory is the power of service, surrender, and resurrection, transforming death into life.
 
That resurrection power of service and surrender is the power we live out when we live the life of the kingdom of God which Jesus taught us to live. In today’s Gospel reading, once again, Jesus taught us to wield resurrection power not through the might of ruling over others, but through loving and serving one another as we were created to do.  
 
When James and John sought great power from Jesus, he assured them that such power of ruling over others is not what makes us great in the kingdom of God. They wanted to sit one on his right hand and one on his left, and they weren’t thinking of life after this up in heaven. That idea was kind of a concept in Jesus’ day, but not the dogma we have now. The thought of, “Let me serve with you after I’ve died,” was almost certainly not in their brains.

No, James and John wanted earthly power to rule with Jesus as his co-world-dominating vice-presidents. They wanted power and might over other human beings, and that is simply not the way of the kingdom of God.
 
“You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you;” Jesus taught, “but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant.” That sounds a lot like Eden, being one another’s companions and helpers.  
That teaching that those who wish to be great must be servants in God’s kingdom is pretty darn similar to the teaching we heard last week with the man who had great wealth. Remember, he wanted to make sure that he had the best of everything in this world and this life, and also to make sure that he had the best of everything in the life to come. “Sure, Jesus, I care about others and hear you teaching that I can use my vast wealth to serve others and to make sure they have enough as well, but I really love my stuff more than I do other people.” He wanted an “all about me” salvation, making sure that he was going to be ok, and not thinking too much about the well-being of anyone else. That’s not salvation; it’s just selfishness.
 
Remember the man in the parable Jesus told who used his great wealth to make sure everyone who worked for him, had a living wage. He even went searching for more folks to work for him, even if only for an hour, to make sure that they had a living wage too. That’s greatness in God’s kingdom, using wealth as a servant, not as one to be served.
 
Greatness in God’s kingdom comes from using what God has given us for the benefit of others, not for ourselves to get even more, and greatness in God’s kingdom does not come by forcing the world to be how we want it to be. Even when we’re right, it’s not our world to force our will upon. Even if we’re right, forcing our will on others is being a tyrant, and Jesus expressly taught against being a tyrant. The world is not any of ours to rule, not even by proxy, electing the folks we think are the right ones to be in office. God’s kingdom and our hope do not come from us or through elected proxies on our behalf. No, our hope and God’s kingdom come from Jesus, from the unity with God that he gave and through the resurrection life that he continually gives.
 
Even so, a lot of us are going to be mightily disappointed the day after the election. Some will be angry. Some may be legitimately afraid because of who gets elected, and some will be afraid probably not so legitimately. Fear, anger, and angst are very human and understandable reactions to the changes and chances of this life. Reacting out of our fear, anger, and angst, are also understandable, and, those fearful and angry reactions go against the kingdom of God. Those fearful and angry reactions come from feelings of powerlessness, wanting power over a world that is not in our control.
 
That is the power that James and John wanted, and Jesus told them, “No.” That power is not the way of God’s kingdom.
 
Jesus teaches us instead to accept our powerlessness, just like he did before Pontius

Pilate. “I have the power to kill you or to save your life,” Pilate said. “Nope,” Jesus said. “I could command hosts of angels to save me and destroy you all, but I’m not going to do that.” Jesus could have brought death to thousands and saved his own life.  Instead, Jesus accepted the seeming power that Pilate held over him, and because of that, rather than just bring more death, Jesus transformed death into life.
 
So, what are we to do then with our fear, and anger, and feelings of powerlessness? Once again, we follow Jesus’ example and teaching. We give our fear and anger over to God. We ask God for the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We act out of the fruit of the Spirit, rather than the burning fire of our anger and fear. Let by the fruit of the Spirit, we can call and write our political leaders to let them know of our fear and anger. They probably won’t care, but we can.
 
We can let go our fear and anger, accept our powerlessness, and choose to love and serve one another because that is who and how we were made to be. Loving and serving one another is how we live the eternal life of God. Loving and serving one another is how we live the life of God’s kingdom.
 
Our hope is in Jesus, and our hope is in the resurrection life of service and surrender, loving one another, even loving our enemies, so that all things, even death itself, are transformed into life.   

Come Unto to Me, and Be Prisoners of Hope.

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets Episcopal Church
August 9, 2023

Proper 9, Year A
Zechariah 9:9-12
Psalm 145:8-15
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30 

Come Unto to Me, and Be Prisoners of Hope.

Both John the Baptist and Jesus had harsh critics who blasted them for their ways of life. Their critics blasted them for the ways of their religion, and their critics blasted them for the way they spoke to the powerful pointing out ways they were oppressing others and being hypocrites. Both John and Jesus were executed by the powerful for all of the above reasons. Of John, his critics said, “He has a demon,” because of his ascetic lifestyle, his religious devotion and self-discipline. Of Jesus, his critics said, “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners,” because of how he spent time with the outcast sinners who were receptive to his message of forgiveness, his message of changing their ways and turning to God, his message of love and faith rather than certainty and fear.

John and Jesus’ critics were afraid of them and them and their messages. John and Jesus’ critics felt threatened by them and their messages, and so they condemned John and Jesus. Our Zechariah reading today called on the people of Israel to be prisoners of hope. John and Jesus’ critics were acting instead as prisoners of despair.

I don’t mean they were sad and forlorn. They were afraid. They were judging and condemning John and Jesus, feeling threatened by them. They were judging and condemning others, those they felt were sinning too much, those fellow Israelites whom they felt were on the outs with God. In their judgment and fear, they were unknowingly prisoners of despair. Did they have to condemn others to make themselves feel like they were ok in God’s eyes? Did they condemn others because they were afraid of what “those sinners” might do to their country or because they were afraid of what God might do to their country because of “those sinners”?

Being afraid of “those sinners,” John and Jesus’ critics worked against them, spoke against them, and eventually had them killed. Such is the way of prisoners of despair. Fight against. Let anger and fear rule. Seek the destruction or subjugation of “those sinners,” or “those others” so that they don’t ruin everything.

Now, on the one hand, John and Jesus’ critics had the wrong bad guys labeled as “those sinners.” On the other hand, even if we have the right bad buys labeled as “those sinners,” fighting against them, letting fear and anger rule, subjugating or especially destroying “those others” or “those sinners” isn’t really going to help us. Living as prisoners of despair doesn’t really help anyone.

I think we generally know this, although there are times when we don’t see any other way. How can we not be against people who subjugate others? How can we not be against people who rape and steal? How can we not be against people who work to make life difficult and miserable for others? Our brains and our emotions often tell us we have to be against “those others” who do terrible things, but our brains and our emotions are wrong. They are stuck in hurt and fear. Our brains and our emotions are all too often prisoners of despair.

Who will rescue us from these prisons? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! “Come to me,” Jesus says. “Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

“Come to me,” Jesus says, and be prisoners of hope.

In our Zechariah reading today, the prophet says “Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope.” What is our stronghold? Our stronghold is God. “The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble,” says Psalm 9:9. Likewise, Psalm 18:2 says, “The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer, [the Lord is] my God, my rock in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, [the Lord is] my stronghold.”

When Jesus says, “Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest,” Jesus is promising to be our stronghold. Jesus is calling us not to be prisoners of despair, but to be prisoners of hope.

As prisoners of hope, we don’t just rage against “those others,” even if we have the right “others” in mind. As prisoners of hope, we follow the words of Psalm 37:8, “Refrain from anger, leave rage alone; * do not fret yourself; it leads only to evil.” As prisoners of hope, we don’t have to be against “those others” who do wrong. As prisoners of hope, we can, instead, live for those who are hurting, afraid, and oppressed.

If we continually rage against “those others,” we’ll just keep creating a mightier enemy. The more anyone fights someone, the more they tend to fight back. Living for someone, however, we end up building people up, guiding others, living into our truest selves: helpers and companions for one another. Such is life as prisoners of hope.

So, how do we go from being prisoners of despair to being prisoners of hope? We don’t, not by ourselves. We bring our hurt and our fear to Jesus. We bring our anger and our rage to Jesus. We come to him with those heavy burdens, hard to bear, we lay them upon him, and he grants us rest. Jesus heals us from being prisoners of despair and offers his yoke, his ways and teachings, that we may become prisoners of hope.

Then, Jesus offers us help, because as easy and light as his ways and teachings are, they are still often hard for us. Our brains and emotions, our bodies, still want us to be prisoners of despair. So Jesus offers us help in giving over our heavy burdens over and over again. Ask, Jesus says, and I will help you give those burdens to me. Then, freed of those burdens of hurt and fear, freed of those burdens of anger and rage, we can find rest for our souls and live as prisoners of hope.

We return over and over to Jesus, our stronghold, and we find that we don’t have to be against others. We can instead live for one another. We can be against those who would rape and steal; we can be full of anger and hate, or instead, we can live for those who might be victims. It’s harder to steal from and rape groups of people who are joined together, living for one another. It’s harder to hurt people who are prisoners of hope.

It still happens, of course, as it did to John the Baptist and Jesus. Those prisoners of despair who were against them eventually did hurt them, and yet they remained prisoners of hope. Their lives continue to bless us two-thousand years later. Such is the power of prisoners of hope. We return to Jesus our stronghold. We lay down our burdens, find rest for our souls, and get to live for others. We refrain from anger and leave rage alone. We stop living as prisoners of despair. We come to Jesus and live as prisoners of hope.