Is that Really the Salvation We Want?

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
October 26, 2025
Proper 25, C
Sirach 35:12-17
Psalm 84:1-6
Luke 18:9-14

“Jesus told a parable about those who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that having contempt for other people still goes on. In fact, looking at other people and thinking, “They’re a piece of crap,” happens a lot. 

Just last Sunday, we had a near fight because one guy did something that irritated another guy, who then said something about it, which irritated the first guy. At that point, it was just back and forth. “He did something wrong.” “No, he did something wrong.” “He’s a terrible person.” “No, he’s a terrible person.” Spouting insults at each other, one ready to punch the other guy right there. 

Both were unable and unwilling to see their part of the problem. Both were unable and unwilling to say to themselves, “Maybe I did something that bothered this other guy,” and then say to each other, “I’m sorry about that.” Both saw themselves as the righteous one in the conflict, and both regarded the other with contempt.

Now, you could say that the argument between these two gentlemen last week had nothing to do with religion or seeing themselves as righteous in God’s eyes. You could say this was totally different than the Pharisee in Jesus’ story, bragging to God about how good he was, fasting, giving away his money. You could say two guys arguing with each other is different than some religious leader giving thanks to God about how good of a person he is. You could say that, but you’d be wrong. 

If asked, “Are you righteous before God?”, I’m sure both of these gentlemen would have answered, “No, I’m not righteous before God. I’m a sinner. No one is righteous before God.” The contempt they held for each other, however, shows that they at least felt more righteous than that guy, and they might have said so even before God. 

To be fair, I’m pretty sure most of us have numerous people we would want to stand before God and say, “But at least I’m not as bad as they are, right?” When asked, with regards to religion, “Are you better than other people?”, I’m guessing most of us know the “right” answer, “No. We all sin. I’m no better than anyone else,” and at the same time, I’m guessing most of us feel better and more righteous than other people when those other people bother us and do things we think are stupid. 

Are you better than that other person? “Hell yeah, I am! I mean, not in God’s eyes.”

Truth of our belief is now shown in giving the right answer. The truth of our belief is shown in how we feel about others and how we treat others. 

The Pharisee in Jesus’ story wasn’t treating others well. He was probably a really good guy, but in his view of being better than others, he was trapped in the sin of pride. We are often trapped in the sin of pride. Even when we’re right about the other’s faults, we can quickly fall into pride. From there, we very quickly fall into fighting with one another, getting pissed off all the time at every little thing people do around us. 

Is being right and constantly angry at every little thing people do around us really the life we want? “Thank God I’m not like that guy who said something stupid or did something bothersome.” “Thank God I’m not like that whole group of people who are terrible sinners. I’m a sinner too, of course, but I’m not like one of those people. The church taught me that those people are sinners, so thank God I’m not like them.” 

Is that really the salvation we want? Is a salvation of anger, pride, and irritability really the salvation we want?

Perhaps if we truly trusted how beloved we are, then we wouldn’t have a need to be better than anyone else?

See, beneath that sin of pride is the terrible fear that deep down, I’m not actually good enough, and I’m not actually beloved.

Look at the Pharisee in Jesus’ story. His fasting and giving a tenth of his income away were great things, but why was he doing them? Was he fasting and giving away part of his income to follow the correct rules and therefore have God be pleased with him? Was he in a competition with others for God’s love, in which only the best people really got loved by God? 

It looks like he was, except that’s not how love works. God doesn’t need to love you less to love me more. 

What if instead of wanting to do enough for God to love him, the Pharisee trusted that God loved him and then fasted and gave money away to be of help to others and to control his desires, so he didn’t do as much harm to others? Then, he might not have been looking down on the tax collector. He might have even heard the tax collector’s prayer and offered to show him the way of love.

“I heard your prayer earlier,” the Pharisee might say to the tax collector. “I’m sorry to intrude, but I heard your prayer, and I wondered if I might offer my belief that God loves you absolutely. God sees you, with all your faults, with all your sins, and God says, “My beloved.” 

What change might have happened then? Perhaps they’d have talked more. Perhaps the Pharisee could have suggested that the tax collector seemed fearful and seemed not to love himself that much. Perhaps if the tax collector learned to love himself more and to trust how incredibly beloved of God he was, then he begun living the kind of life he wanted as well. Maybe he wouldn’t have cheated people out of their money, but been content with what he had and worked to be of good service to others. 

Last week, there was another couple of guys who almost got into a fight. It was during breakfast, and the reason they didn’t get into a fight is because the one who was being insulted simply got up from the table and walked away. There was a guy at the table insulting him and threatening him, and instead of being tough and getting angry, he simply stood up and walked away. 

Walking away was treating the aggressor as a beloved one, choosing to leave, rather than harm him. Now, I doubt that was his thought. I don’t think that what went through his head was, “Hmm, you’re insulting and threatening me, but you are so beloved, I won’t harm you.” No, his thought was probably more like, “This guy is a jerk, but I really don’t want to fight. Also, I don’t much care if he insults me.” 

Trusting in God’s love, he didn’t need to fight over being insulted. Trusting in how very loved he is, the guy was able to walk away rather than fight back. He may have looked weak, but it didn’t matter because he knew how beloved he is. 

Fear and lack of believing that we are loved leads to pride, so that when we are insulted or bothered, we fight right back. We need to look strong. We need to look tough. We need to be right. Trusting how beloved we are, we don’t need to be right, or tough, or strong. God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9), and God loves us not because we are strong or right. God loves us simply because we are. 

My prayer for this morning is that we will all trust just how darn loved we all are. You are so loved. God became human, right? God loves humans so much that God thought it would be a good idea to become one of us. God became human as Jesus, and when Jesus died, he was resurrected; he was raised from the dead. In Jesus’ resurrection, God showed us that death is not the end of life, so we need not fear. God has declared us so beloved that God wants to keep us around even after we die. We get to live together, dwelling in God’s love. 

Why would we then declare ourselves anything other than beloved? Why would we declare other people anything other than beloved? When others bother us, remember that they are beloved, and remember that we are beloved. We are so ridiculously loved by God. 

Poppy Seeds and Drowning Trees

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
October 5, 2025
Proper 23, C
Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4
Psalm 37:1-10
Luke 17:5-10

“Increase our faith,” the disciples commanded Jesus, and Jesus said, “No.” Strange, huh? How often was God pleading with the Israelites to have more faith? How often did Jesus say things like, “Do not doubt, but believe”? You’d think of all things that they would ask for, faith is one that Jesus would say, “Sure, man, more faith, deeper faith, all the faith you want, you got it!” That’s not what happened, though. He told them, “no.”

What Jesus was really telling his disciples was, “You don’t need more faith. You just need to do well and trust with the faith you’ve got.” 

That’s how the disciples had chosen to live, trusting Jesus and living as though his teachings really were the best way of life for them…until Jesus said ‘forgive people, like, a lot.’ That’s what Jesus had taught them just before they said, “Give us more faith!”

These are the same folks who had been healing people and casting out demons in Jesus’ name. Jesus told them to go do that, and they were so excited. They didn’t cower down and say they weren’t ready or not strong enough in faith. They went out boldly, healed the sick, and cast out demons like Buffy the Vampire Slayer on speed. They came back and were swapping stories, so excited.

Then, weeks or months later, Jesus taught them to forgive people who wronged them, not just once or twice, but over and over. Forgive people, Jesus taught, a lot, because people are kinda messed up, and they keep messing up, and as often as they do and then turn around and try to make things right, Jesus taught to forgive. Over, and over, and over, forgive people. 

Suddenly the disciples were saying, “Forgiveness, eh, eh, are your sure about that one, Jesus? Yeah, maybe I don’t trust you that much after all, but thanks a ton. It’s been great, loved casting out demons, don’t think I have enough faith in me for forgiveness, though.”

So, Jesus told them, no. You’re not getting more faith. You’re not getting more belief. What you have is enough. He told them that if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to a tree, “Hey Tree, go throw yourself into a lake,” and the tree would pull its own roots out of the ground, walk over to the lake, and throw itself in. 

Now, I don’t think Jesus meant that we would or could actually do this. As a kid, I wondered, “Why can’t I make a tree throw itself into a lake? I guess my faith isn’t good enough?” I don’t know, maybe I only had a half a mustard seed or just a poppy seed of faith. 

No, Jesus doesn’t mean that we’re failures in faith if we can’t actually make a tree walk to its death in a lake. Jesus was using this kinda weird image to illustrate the point that his disciples didn’t need more faith to forgive people as he was teaching. Whatever small amount of faith they had was sufficient. What they needed was faithfulness. 

What they needed was to trust Jesus and be faithful to what he taught. Then, their faith would grow. Like not by faith alone, but also by faithfulness. That’s what we heard in Habakkuk. The righteous live by their faith, or really by their faithfulness. 

The disciples thought they didn’t have enough faith. Perhaps they doubted and so thought they couldn’t be faithful because of their doubt.

The opposite of faith, however, is not doubt. Jesus talked about faith the size of a mustard seed. That ain’t a lot of faith, which means you’re going to have doubt. In fact, you can’t have faith without doubt. Doubt goes hand in hand with faith, and we wrestle with it.

Mother Theresa, for example, was hugely faithful to God’s calling on her to care for orphaned children in Calcutta, India. She devoted her whole life to those children, and throughout her life she had faith and struggled with deep doubt. She wrestled with it, and Jesus didn’t grant her more faith. The faith she had was sufficient, and she remained faithful with even that small amount of faith. 

So no, the opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty. I don’t need faith to know that two plus two equals four. I need faith to believe that the people in my life who love me actually love me. I mean, I’m pretty sure they do, but I can’t read their minds. I trust them. Love is based on trust, on faith, and faith requires humility enough to admit that I don’t know everything, and I’m going to trust anyway. 

Through my wrestling with faith and doubt, I too wanted more faith, until I realized that what I really wanted was certainty. I’d so often heard people talk about their faith as certainty. Pastors would say they know their faith is true beyond any doubt, and I could never get there. I finally realized that I could never know with certainty, but I also realized I love God becoming human and joining with us physically in every part of our lives, and I love it so much that I choose to believe it. I still don’t know. I still have doubt, and I choose to believe anyway.

I admitted this to a group of pastors during a Bible study one day, and there was stony silence in the room. Finally, one of them said, “Well yeah, I have doubts just like you’re talking about, but I’d never admit that to my congregation.” There was agreement throughout the room by the rest of the pastors who all wrestled with doubts but who put on a show of having certainty in their faith. 

That means that those pastors were all lying to their congregations. They would never admit having doubts. They were pretending to have certainty that they didn’t have, and they were leading their people to think that they had to have certainty too. That means that these pastors were inadvertently leading their people away from the humility of faith and toward the pride of certainty.

Certainty says, I must be right. I am so certain that I am right, that I won’t even question it. You disagree with me. You, therefore, are not only wrong, but terribly, stupidly, sinfully wrong. 

The pride of certainty is not faith. That sound like how a lot of religious and political discourse goes nowadays? Behind certainty is the sin of pride. I am right. I know better. I am so important. I can put myself in God’s place. God said not to eat this fruit in the Garden of Eden, but I know better. I will do it anyway and place myself above God. 

Jesus said have faith the size of a mustard seed. Well, I’m going to do better than that. I’m going to have huge faith, certainty with no doubts. There’s pride there. Something is hard to believe or do, so I’ll go with certainty, rather than faith, and I’ll make sure that anyone who disagrees gets put in their place because despite what Jesus said, faith isn’t enough for me. I need certainty. 

No you don’t, Jesus said. Just have a little bit of faith, and follow that faith up with faithfulness. Trust in my ways, Jesus taught us, even when you’re not sure. Set yourself aside and trust in Jesus’ ways and teachings as we walk this life together. When I don’t think forgiveness is right, ‘cause it sure doesn’t feel right, I’m going to assume I don’t know everything. I’m going to trust in Jesus instead.

Faith is humble enough to believe in something, knowing that you’re not sure, and even not being sure, choosing to give yourself over to this belief. Faith says, I will give my heart to this belief. I will choose to live as though this faith is true. I will choose to live as though the teachings of Jesus really are the best way of life for me. I will let go of the certainty of self and humbly accept this little amount of faith, and follow where it leads.

Living Into Our True Humanity

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
August 31, 2025
Proper 17, C
Sirach 10:12-18
Psalm 103:1-8
Luke 14:1,7-14

Pride, to feel that I matter above anyone else. Pride, to be so angry when someone hurts me, insults me, or looks at me wrong, that I hurt or insult them back, because after all, I’m more important than they are. Pride, to turn inward, putting walls up around me, letting no one in because it’s safer that way and I don’t need anyone else anyway. In all of these ways, pride is to forsake God.

We heard in our reading from Sirach that the beginning of pride is to turn away from God, to pull our hearts away from God. 

When we pull our hearts from God, then we assume that we are all-sufficient, that we have no need for others, that we trust no one and nothing. When we pull our hears from God, we have pride leaving us alone, hurting, often with violent anger which lashes out at others. As we heard in Sirach, however, neither violent anger nor pride were made for human beings. We’re not made to be prideful and violently angry. We’re made to be loving and supportive towards one another. We find our full humanity in being loving and supportive towards one another. When we withdraw and isolate in pride and violent anger, we pull further and further away from our own humanity.

Sometimes when I’ve seen folks get violently angry, or gotten terribly angry myself, I’ve heard folks say things like, “but he insulted me,” as though being insulted is a good reason for beating someone, punching and hurting them. Talk about pride leading to violent anger. He insulted me; he wounded my pride, so I am going to get violently angry now. 

Ok, so on the one hand, that’s all too human. We strive, we struggle, we get hurt, we make mistakes. We lash out. We isolate. We’re human; we mess up. On the other hand, pride and violent anger take away from our true humanity.

Our true humanity dwells in love. Our true humanity dwells in forgiveness. Our true humanity dwells in kindness and in caring about others. 

I preached several weeks ago about Mr. Rogers. He was someone whom we tend to put on a pedestal. He was like a saint, so wonderful and kind. Ok, but Jesus was telling us not to put people up on pedestals in the teaching we heard today. When we put some people up on pedestals, we tend to devalue others. These great ones are so wonderful, and these others are, eh, not as good. 

When we put folks on pedestals, we also tend to elevate them even above ourselves. They are someone great, not someone like me. They can be kind, and caring, and wonderful because they are special, somehow, not like me. We tend to do that with people like Mr. Rogers, and his widow was adamant that people not put him on a pedestal. After all, Mr. Rogers believed all of us can be people of kindness, forgiveness, love, and caring. If we assume that we can’t, that people like Mr. Rogers are saints and we can’t achieve that, well that’s just another kind of pride. 

I’m different. Someone else can do that, but not I. I’m not special enough to be able to be as kind and caring as that person is. The reality is that for Mr. Rogers and anyone who is kind and caring, it’s a choice and it takes work. 

For any who think that Mr. Rogers was a saint, and I can’t do that, the truth is that it may just take more effort than we’re willing to put in. We’ll, if we’re unwilling to put in the effort, that’s the same kind of pride that says, “I matter above anyone else. I matter too much to waste my time working to be kind, forgiving, loving, and caring to others.”  

When we put people like Mr. Rogers up on a pedestal as some kind of special saintly person and we tell ourselves we can’t be that good, we are forsaking God and others, because it is safer and easier not to have to work so hard. Overcoming our pride takes work. Not lashing out in violent anger takes work. Living into our true humanity takes work.

For Jesus, it took the work of the cross. “Father, forgive them,” he prayed, as he allowed himself to be crucified, rather than calling on hosts of angels to rescue him and kill his killers. That was Jesus’ work for our sake, to free us and to help us live into our true humanity. 

“Take up your own cross and follow me,” he said. We don’t have to be crucified, but living into our true humanity takes work. 

Sometimes that work looks like daily, hourly, or minute by minute prayer for God’s help so that we might live in kindness, rather than lashing out at others. Sometimes that work looks like sharing our difficulties with others and asking for their help so that we might live in love and caring, rather than pride. Sometimes that work looks like taking medicine because our brains need extra help to live into our true humanity, to overcome depression, violent anger, and other mental illnesses that we face. All of that work is what we can do to live into our true humanity.

Jesus taught us not to take places of honor, assuming we’re better than everyone else. Sometimes that means not putting others up on pedestals, as we refuse to do the work it takes to live into our own true humanity.

I had a friend, years ago; we were talking about the saints, and she said, “I don’t want to be a saint.” She was thinking of being a saint as being kinda miserable, giving up everything that makes you happy so that you can be good enough for God. That’s not what being a saint is; that’s just being miserable. No, being a saint looks like doing the work you need to do to care for others. Being a saint looks like recognizing that we are all in this life together.

At the beginning of our service this morning, we sang, “Satan, we’re gonna tear your kingdom down.” Satan, the Adversary, keeps us divided. Satan keeps us saying, “We’re not in this together.” “You don’t belong.” “I’m more important than you.” “We’re against one another,” or at the very least, “You’re against me, so I must be against you.” 

In all of those ways that we remain against one another, we’re helping to build up Satan’s kingdom. When we exclude the undesirables, put others on pedestals, and determine that being kind and caring to others is too much work, we’re helping to build up Satan’s kingdom.

Now, long-term, big picture? Jesus has torn Satan’s kingdom down. While we get to live out Satan’s kingdom if we choose to, Satan’s kingdom has ultimately been torn down, by Jesus on the cross. So, we get to live Jesus’ kingdom. 

We get to live the kingdom of kindness, mercy, love, and caring, and even if we have been building up Satan’s failed and doomed kingdom, we always get to come back. Jesus welcomes us with open arms, saying, “Come on, let’s start building together.” Living and building Jesus’ kingdom is work, but think about how much more work it is to live against one another. Think about how much more work it is to live with pride and violent anger? 

Following Jesus’ way, doing the work, and building up Jesus’ kingdom, we get to let go of our pride and violent anger. We get to live and work for kindness, forgiveness, love and caring for all.

Affirming the Image of God In Which We Were Made

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
June 4, 2023
Trinity Sunday, Year A
Genesis 1:1-2:4a
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Matthew 28:16-20

Lord of the Streets Episcopal Church

Affirming the Image of God In Which We Were Made

Jesus said to baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Three names, three persons, yet there is only one God. How’s that work? Welcome to Trinity Sunday. Folks have been confused over the idea of the Trinity for, oh, about 2000 years. How can we say the Father is God, and the Son is God, and the Spirit is God and also say there is only one God?

Think in terms of relationship. Are you closer, more united to the people you love most in the world than you are to people you’ve never met? Of course you are. We feel great unity with our dearest loves. So, thinking of the Trinity, take that unity you feel with those you love, remove the limitations of our physical beings, multiply that unity by infinity, and we begin to have an idea of how God can be a trinity of persons. 

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Three persons so perfectly united together in love that they are one. God is a relationship of person by God’s very nature, and we are made in God’s image, as we were told in the story of creation in Genesis. God created humankind in God’s image, male and female. All people are made in God’s image, every person who has ever been. That image is one of relationship, love, and creativity.

God created all that is. “Let there be light,” and there was light. Let there be dry land amidst the waters, and the dry land appeared. Let there be all of the plants and animals over all of the earth and sea, and they were created. We were made in that same image of creativity. Art, music, thousands of ways we create beauty and joy in the world. That’s part of the image of God in which we were made.

Of course, we also mess up and misuse our creativity. We’re hurt and broken, and so out of our hurt and fear, we create bad things too. Systems of oppression. Weapons for war. Marginalization and discrimination of people. These we create as well, and all of these things we create fight against our very nature. We were made in the image of love, relationship, and creativity so anytime we use our creativity to work against love and relationship, we are destroying the very best of who we are. 

Many of us are celebrating Pride Month right now, celebrating the beauty of our LGBTQ siblings, people made in the image of God, the image of love, relationship, and creativity. Now, I know a lot of Christians say that there is something wrong with our LGBTQ brothers and sisters, that there is something broken about the image of God in them? I’m here to tell you that just ain’t so. Reading and really understanding scripture affirms that our LGBTQ siblings are made in the image of God just as they are, and their relationships, genders, and sexualities are blessed by God. 

When we affirm this, we’re living in the image of God, the image of love, relationship, and creativity in which we were made. When instead we marginalize, discriminate against, and oppress our LGBTQ siblings, we fight against and harm the image of God in which we were made. Rather than marginalization, discrimination, and oppression, we were made for love, relationship, and creativity. 

Other ways we affirm the image of God in which we were made? Simply having good relationships with one another. God is three persons so perfectly united in love that they are one. In all of our relationships, we have three people as well, or rather two people and God. Whom do we invite into our marriages? God. Who is a part of each of our friendships, working and moving together with us in our relationship? God. Every relationship we have, therefore, is an image of God, an image of the Trinity. When we love others, or even when we like others, we are affirming the image of God in which we were made.

Additionally, when we remember others, we affirm the image of God in which we were made. One of our parishioners, a man named Matthew, died over the weekend. He was a tall, white man, grey hair, and he was very difficult to understand when he spoke. He was also a very kind man who gave the shirt off of his back to another could be warm. He even seemed to be at peace about the fact that he had cancer. We will have a memorial service for him sometime in the next month. Matthew was made in the image of God, and he should not be forgotten. Many people are forgotten, but they too are made in the image of God, and as scripture tells us, there is still memory of them, of their deeds, of the love and relationships they had, memory of the hurt, and memory of the healing. 

Healing is a part of the image of God in which we were made. We all need healing, and that is a part of our creativity and love. In the beginning, we’re told the earth was a formless void, and darkness covered the face of the deep. 

Sometimes darkness ends up ruling us. We cease caring much about others. We are full of anger, full of hurt, and we do terrible things to others. Anyone who would rape another person has got a formless void of darkness within them. In seeking to fill that void, they harm others, tearing at the beautiful image of God in which that other person is made. "Let there be light," God says, to cast out the darkness.

Now, that light may need to come during time in prison, so that person doesn’t harm others and continue to rape others in the meantime, but that light can come. When God says pray for our enemies, God means for us to pray for those who harm others. God means for us to pray for healing for those who harm others, because everyone who harms another person has some amount of a formless void of darkness within them. If we’re honest, each one of us has some amount of a formless void of darkness within us. That darkness within us isn’t a part of our nature. Our nature is love, relationship, and creativity. The formless void of darkness within us comes from the times when we’ve been hurt and harmed. God sees our darkness, recognizes our hurt and harm, and God desires healing for us. God desires healing for all who harm others. God desires healing, and so God says, “Let there be light.”

Let there be light to shine and cast out the darkness within us. Let there be forgiveness and love to restore the image of relationship in which we were made. Let there be a deep recognition of the beauty of others, the image of God in which all were made, to cast out the oppression, marginalization, and discrimination we have against others. Let there be light to cast out our darkness and affirm the image of God within all of us, the image of love, relationship, and creativity.