The Way of Recovery

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
September 28, 2025
Proper 21, C
1 Timothy 6:6-19
Psalm 143
Luke 16:19-31

Good morning, y’all. As I said earlier in our service, today we are celebrating Recovery Sunday. The Episcopal Church has a practice to celebrate recovery from addiction, to celebrate the healing and work of those in recovery, and to normalize addiction as something from which many people suffer and to normalize recovery as something to be celebrated and brought to people’s awareness. 

Recovery is about healing, about turning from one way of life and seeking help from others and often from God, and finding a new way of life, freed from the bondage of addiction. One important thing to note is that recovery is not the Gospel. One needs not be a Christian to recover from addiction. At the same time, the Gospel is all about healing and recovery. Whether addiction, trauma, heartache, death of a loved one, or even death of one’s dreams, everyone is recovering from something, including the people we heard about in our Gospel lesson from today.

In Luke 16, Jesus told a story of an unnamed rich man and a beggar named Lazarus. The fact that the beggar, Lazarus, was named and the rich man wasn’t named, tells us what Jesus thought of the two characters in his story. Lazarus, the beggar, Jesus seemed pretty fond of him. The rich man, not so much, because the rich man ignored Lazarus. This guy had more wealth than he needed for multiple lifetimes, and instead of using that wealth to benefit others, he used his wealth only to benefit himself, leaving Lazarus to die in the gutter. 

Jesus was very clear that those who are rich and who are indifferent to the needs and suffering of others are not going to do well with God. In fact those who are rich and who are indifferent to the needs and suffering of others look to be in for a world of hurt in regard to God’s judgement. 

So, what does this have to do with recovery? Well, there are two people in this story who needed recovery. One, obviously, was Lazarus, who needed recovery from whatever ailment had left him begging in the street. The other one who needed recovery was the rich man.

The rich man was addicted to feeling good. He had his wealth, and he used it only for himself. He used his wealth only to feel good, and through constantly trying to feel good, he ended up in torment.

That’s a story of addiction. Whatever the addiction is, the thing that makes us feel good ends up being an instrument of torment. 

Addicts are often trying to run the show, trying to be ok, trying to feel safe and secure in the world around them, and addicts tend to be mighty pissed when everything and everyone aren’t doing what they think they should. 

Wasn’t that like the rich man, wanting the world and everyone in it to bend to his will? Even at rock bottom, being tormented in Hades, he was still trying to run the show. 

Hey Abraham, you know Lazarus, that dude who used to beg outside my house, have him come bring me some water. What do you mean “no”? I’m really thirsty. Come one Abraham. Ugh, fine! At least send him to warn my brothers not to be quite as selfish, miserable schlubs as I was. What do you mean, “No”? Have him do what I want.

Yeah, even being tormented in Hades, the rich man still thought he should be in charge. He was still trying to run the whole show. That’s an addict’s way, trying to run the show and then using whatever they’re addicted to, to feel better, to drown resentments, to just shut everything out and not give a crap for a while.

Now, I hate to compare the rich schlub in Jesus’ story to all addicts because addicts are in need of healing and recovery. Please don’t hear what I’m not saying. I’m not saying “addicts will end up tormented in Hades after they die.” Folks who suffer from addiction are in need of healing and recovery, and regarding being tormented in Hades, when we’re in the depths of addiction, we’re already being tormented in Hades. 

I compare that rich schlub in Jesus’ story to addicts because even he was in need of healing and recovery. If he had been a healed and healthy person, he wouldn’t have been such a selfish, miserable schlub. If he was a healed and healthy person, he would have been glad to share what he had with Lazarus and help heal him as well. Everyone needs healing. Everyone is recovering from something.

It's easy to have contempt on the rich man, and in some ways, I think we’re supposed to. We’re supposed to recognize that a life of selfishness and self-seeking is not the life God has in mind for us. 

Our challenge is to look at the rich man and not tell ourselves, “I must be doing just fine, ‘cause I’m not a rich selfish schlub like that guy.” We don’t need to be rich to be selfish and self-seeking. We don’t need to be the guy in Jesus’ story to need healing and recovery. 

If the rich man had recovered from whatever was keeping him so selfish, that could have led to Lazarus’ recovery as well. Recovery leads to and is a part of repentance. Recovery leads to and is a part of turning our lives around so that we are decidedly less selfish and self-seeking, and that leads to a life of service. Had the rich man recovered, he would have begun living a life of service, and he would have healed and helped Lazarus recover.

Addiction, and the resentment, selfishness, and self-seeking that feeds addiction leads us to being alone. Addiction has thousands of forms; it doesn’t need to be alcohol, drugs, sex, gambling, or any other named, identified addictions. Our phones and social media are addictions for a lot of us. TV before that. Whatever we use to feel better that ends up isolating us from others can be an addiction, and addiction, and the desire just to be less miserable, leads us to being alone. Recovery leads us to a life of communion and love with others. 

All of our sins, the ways we harm one another and harm ourselves, lead us to being alone. The Gospel, the reconciliation of Jesus, leads us to a life of communion and love with others. 

We’re all in need of recovery. We’re all in need of communion and love with others. Recovery can come through 12-Step or other recovery programs. Recovery can come through the way of the Gospel of Jesus, and like the way of Jesus, recovery is not done alone. Recovery is done with community. 

So, whatever path we choose, I invite us all to follow a way of recovery. Follow a way from torment to a way of life and peace. Follow a way from selfishness and self-centeredness to a way of love and service to others. Follow a way from isolation and fear to a way of communion and love.

Jesus Has United to That Pain Too

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
April 18, 2025
Good Friday, C
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Psalm 22
John 18:1-19:42

So, if I were to say, “Cry Night,” does anyone know what in the world I’m talking about? I’m guessing not. See, Cry Night is a term (not coined by me) that is used to describe the last night of many a youth trip or retreat. 

Cry night is where you’re on a youth trip, and at the end of the trip, when everyone is exhausted and worn out, you talk with the kids about Jesus and how Jesus took their sins upon himself, and you pull every emotionally manipulative trick you have in order to get the kids to really feel their culpability in Jesus’ death so they will then feel gratitude and love for Jesus. 

Cry Night. It’s great. I don’t really do Cry Night, and I’m guessing most folks here don’t, but it has been a part of quite a few youth trips I’ve been on. It’s a bit much.

I suppose our liturgy does something similar, as we go through the last days and minutes of Jesus’ life, there is an emotional pull to our liturgy. Heck, one of my favorite hymns, “Ah Holy Jesus,” is very emotional, even having the line, “I crucified thee.”

So, I suppose I’m not against emotional appeals to our culpability in Jesus’ death. I suppose my challenge is really the potential theology behind such emotional appeals. 

In my experience, your typical Cry Night theology tends to be that we are all terrible sinners from birth, and we were all of us justly destined to an eternity of torment, God’s just punishment for our sins. Because Jesus loves us, however, he took the penalty upon himself, suffering all of the torment we should suffer so that we don’t have to. So now, realizing that, look upon the one you made suffer. Look at what you did to him.

Feel bad because of what you did. Now, love Jesus because of what he did. 

Ok, that’s fine. There’s some truth there, but that story, by itself, with the emotional manipulation, can also be a bit harmful when some folks get overwhelmed by the guilt and the horror of what “they’ve” done. 

“I had no idea I was so awful. I mean, I knew I’ve  messed up, but I didn’t think I was that terrible.” 

“Oh, you are, and worse even, but Jesus loves you, and you’re forgiven.” 

“Ok, great that I’m forgiven, but now I hate myself.”

The story of Jesus’ passion and death, and the meaning of what his passion and death were, are only partially understood with the idea that Jesus took the penalty of our sins upon himself, and the story is perhaps misunderstood with the idea that God was going to torture us all for eternity until he realized, “Oh, maybe I’ll do the Jesus thing instead.”

See, the problem with those stories is, they forget who Jesus is. Jesus is the Word of God which spoke creation into existence. Jesus is the Word of God which is God. So, when we say, “Jesus did this,” what we’re saying is, “God did this.” God took the penalty for our sins upon Godself.

What is the penalty? In a word, the penalty is isolation. We are harmed, and we pull away. We cause harm, and others pull away, and we pull away even further. Isolation, the hells we make for ourselves because we are not united to others, or we feel and fear that we aren’t united to others. That’s simply part of what it is to be human. 

So, when we say, Jesus took the penalty of our sins upon himself, we mean that even when we experience that penalty, we aren’t truly alone. Nothing can separate us from God, not even our separation from God. 

God became human, and as that human being, Jesus of Nazareth, God united fully with humanity. On the cross, God united even with our sins and the penalty for our sins. God united with our disunity. God united with the pain and misery that disunity causes us. God united with all of the hells we put ourselves in, all the hells we put ourselves through. 

Then, finally, God united even with our death, as Jesus said, “It is finished,” and breathed his last. “It is finished.” There is no more separation from God. Our separation from God has been united to God even in our death.

Why? Because God sees us hurting and alone, and God knows we need healing. 

So yes, Jesus took our sins and the penalty of our sins upon himself on the cross, and he did so because he was God, uniting with all of our lives. 

With that in mind, let’s steer away from, “Look at what you did to Jesus.” God chose that death on the cross, because God sees all that we go through, and God wants healing for us, and God knows that unity with God in every aspect of our lives, unity with God and one another is how we are healed. 

So, when we say, Jesus took our pain upon the cross, see your pain there, and see that Jesus has united himself to your pain. When we say, Jesus took our pain upon the cross, see the pain you’ve caused others; see that Jesus has united that pain to himself as well. When we say, Jesus took our pain upon the cross, see the pain of others that in your indifference, you haven’t done a whole lot to heal; see that Jesus has united that pain to himself as well. 

When you look at the cross, see all of our pain, everyone’s pain; see that is has been united to God by Jesus. Then, ask yourself, what am I going to do about it? How am I going to live? 

Not to get too emotionally appealy, not to get to a Cry Night level, but might we trust that Jesus has our pain united to God, and therefore, might could we spend a little less time constantly trying to soothe our pain, and our fears, and our worries? Instead, might we be able to strive to soothe other peoples’ pain, trusting that all that we are is already fully united with God. Might we trust Jesus’ healing for ourselves enough that we could live that healing for others?

Might each of us give up some of the ways we self-soothe and spend some of that time and money in the service of others? Not to get too far ahead of ourselves, Easter isn’t for a couple days yet, but when we spend some of our time and money in the service of others, rumor has it that we might just see Jesus on the way.

The Beautiful Sunset of Life in the Kingdom of God

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
October 27, 2024
Proper 25, B
Jeremiah 31:7-9
Psalm 126
Mark 10:46-52

Anyone ever ask for help, only to be ignored by others? Anyone ever ask for help and been silenced by others, told to keep quiet and to stop being such a bother? Anyone ever been made to feel ashamed for asking for help? That was the story of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar who called out to Jesus. “Have mercy on me,” he cried. “Oh, do shut up!” The people responded.
 
The crowd had contempt for Bartimaeus. Maybe because he was blind, they thought he was a sinner? Maybe he smelled bad and looked weird? Maybe they just didn’t want to be bothered by that rather annoying blind guy who was constantly begging and therefore constantly reminding them that they had plenty to be able to help him and were too self-absorbed or too fearful to do so? Perhaps they wanted to protect Jesus from that same annoyance and mild guilt that they felt? “We’re here doing religiousy godly stuff with a religiousy godly guy, and you’re just wrecking it Bartimaeus; go away.”
 
Whatever the case, Jesus didn’t share the crowd’s contempt for the blind beggar, Bartimaeus. Instead, Jesus invited the crowd to be a part of Bartimaeus’ healing. “Call him here,” Jesus said to the crowd, giving them the chance to repent of the contempt they had toward Bartimaeus, speaking to him with invitation rather than pushing him away. So, the first healing Jesus gave Bartimaeus was to have him be one with the people around him again. Then, as one with the crowd, Bartimaeus came to Jesus, and Jesus spoke to him like a human being. He restored Bartimaeus’ sight, and Bartimaeus joined him on the way.
 
In that whole encounter, the kingdom of God was revealed.
 
We’ve been hearing Jesus’ preaching for weeks now about life in God’s kingdom. We heard Jesus tell a rich man that eternal life means loving God and loving people here in this life. We heard Jesus teach his disciples that serving others, not ruling over them, but serving others, is greatness in God’s kingdom. Love God and love people, and let everything else flow from there.
 
So, when Bartimaeus asked for healing, Jesus continued his teaching about eternal life and God’s kingdom by showing the people what love God and love people is like. Those in the crowd who saw themselves as above Bartimaeus were turned into Bartimaeus’ servants. Jesus sent them to give Bartimaeus the message that Jesus was calling for him. The crowd became like a servant in a household who would call to the master of the house, letting him know that someone had arrived.
 
Jesus let the people become servants, rather than the important people they saw themselves as, and by giving them that servant role, Jesus helped heal the crowd, letting them live the life of the kingdom of God. Love God and love people. Through love God and love people, Jesus gave Bartimaeus and the crowd the eternal life of love in God’s kingdom.
 
Now, I’m going to guess a couple things here. One, that eternal life of the kingdom of God sounds lovely; it sounds great to me, I’m guessing it sounds great to others. Two, I’m also guessing that, as lovely as it is, the image and feeling of the kingdom of God will quickly fade, and we’ll end up back with contempt, maybe contempt for those like Bartimaeus whom we see as beneath us, maybe contempt for the crowds who see us as beneath them.
 
Like the beauty of a sunset, we’re captivated and awed by the images of the

kingdom of God, and then like a sunset, the beauty fades, and we are brought into the dark of night.
 
Then, it is easy for us to have contempt, especially for the crowd. Forgetting the beauty of God’s kingdom, let’s face it, it’s fun to be right and righteous. Having contempt for the crowd feels right and righteous. Having contempt for those around us whom we see as the crowd feels right and righteous. Don’t they deserve our contempt?
 
I imagine Bartimaeus having contempt for the crowd. It does feel like they deserved it. He had been living the violence of looking out for me alone because of their indifference to him and their contempt of him. It was Bartimaeus against the world, or the world against Bartimaeus. His life was me against the world, a life of darkness and contempt. I imagine him being exhausted, drained of life.
 
The struggle of waking up to a world of darkness, not his blindness, but the darkness of him against everyone and everyone against him. That darkness drains the life from people. Me against the world saps us of our humanity. Struggle, fear, anger, with no one in your corner. Little or no trust. Little or no joy. That’s the life of me against the world, the darkness of night when the beauty of the kingdom of God fades.  
 
I can imagine Bartimaeus still having contempt for the crowd even once his sight was restored. He could have still felt that it was he against the world, but Jesus helped heal his heart of contempt before he healed his blindness. Bringing the crowd into Bartimaeus’ healing, allowing them to be Bartimaeus’ servants, Jesus allowed healing of contempt, restoring not just sight, but the beauty of that sunset of eternal life in the kingdom of God.
 
As a result, when his sight was restored, Bartimaeus followed Jesus on the way. They walked off into the sunset of the kingdom of God. The eternal life of the kingdom of God in this story of healing. Jesus healed the crowd. Then Jesus healed Bartimaeus, not primarily of blindness. Jesus healed Bartimaeus of isolation. He healed him of me against the world.
 
From the darkness of isolation and contempt, of violence and anger, Jesus brought both Bartimaeus and the crowd around him to the eternal life of love God and love people. From the dark of night, Jesus brought the crowd and Bartimaeus the beautiful, and healing sunset of life in the kingdom of God.