We don’t need to know the path. We just need to walk it.

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
August 30, 2026
Proper 17, A
Romans 12:9-21
Psalm 26:1-8
Matthew 16:21-28

“There’s a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.” That’s what Morpheus said to Neo the 1999 sci-fi film, “The Matrix.” In the movie, humans were struggling to be freed from machine overlords, and humanity was waiting on a savior, The One. Morpheus was looking for this savior, and he was firmly convinced that Neo was the one. At one point, after Neo did some truly amazing things, Morpheus again said how he believed Neo was The One. Neo again protested, and Morpheus said to him, “Sooner or later, you’re going to realize just as I did, there’s a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.” You may not know exactly where this is leading, Morpheus was saying, but you can walk the path you are meant to walk, regardless.

As I read today’s Gospel, I have a lot of questions, particularly around Jesus telling his disciples that some of them would not taste death before they saw the Son of Man coming in his kingdom. Was he talking about when Jesus would return in the clouds with great majesty, bringing in this new paradise on earth? If so, he was wrong, because that hasn’t happened in 2000 years, much less in the disciples’ lifetimes.

Did Jesus mean they would see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom because they were going to see him riding into Jerusalem on a donkey to much fanfare and praise, because they did see that. A week after he rode into Jerusalem, of course, he was executed as an enemy of the state, so maybe Jesus meant that they would see him come into his kingdom, but that his kingdom was not some great seat of governmental power that they thought it was. I kinda like that, but it also feels like a stretch. 

So, maybe Jesus meant they would see his resurrection, that rising from the grave with everlasting life was Jesus coming in his kingdom. Many of Jesus’ disciples did see him after being resurrected, and that’s certainly amazing and wonderful and far greater than riding a donkey into a city, but Jesus said the Son of Man would “come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he [would] repay everyone for what has been done.”

That just straight up ain’t happened yet. So maybe he did mean his resurrection when he said they would see him coming into his kingdom and the whole coming with his angels in the glory of his Father thing was something else? I don’t know. Like I said, I’ve got a lot of questions on this one. I’m not sure what I believe about Jesus coming with his angels in the glory of his Father and his disciples not tasting death before they see him coming in his kingdom. 

I could try to come up with an exact answer that suits me, and fits all the pieces together, and defines everything exactly. I’ve seen it done, but those answers, fitting everything together perfectly, tend to leave me cold. They kinda sorta make sense-ish of what Jesus said, if you don’t ask too many questions, but they tend to feel like an unskilled writer tying up loose ends in a script. You end up with something that’s definitely, almost a movie but the kind that you’d wait till it was out of theaters to watch and then just decide to skip entirely. 

The other reason I don’t tend to come up with an exact answer that suits me, and fits all the pieces together, and defines everything exactly is that I don’t really need to. “There’s a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.”

In the midst of all my questions, I don’t really know the right answers, but I choose to believe in Jesus’ resurrection, nonetheless. I believe Jesus was showing us that life does not end in death, but that life is transformed in death into something else, that we will all continue living together after our deaths. I find that beautiful. It gives me hope.

Morpheus - "The Matrix", 1999

Even not knowing how it all works, believing in Jesus’ resurrection gives me a path to walk, a path of hope, peace, and trust. I may not know exactly where the path will lead or how it all goes, but “there’s a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.” Knowing the path can lead to that really bad b-movie thing I was talking about earlier. Walking the path, well, that’s pretty much what Paul was writing about in Romans 12:9-21. 

Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them…Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

That’s some of the highlights. Paul shows a path of hope and peace, a path of trust. Now, full disclosure, Paul seems to have thought that the end was coming very quickly, that Jesus would return any minute. So, you could see Paul’s advice as being, “Eh, since it ain’t gonna be too long, you can put up with some suffering for now.” That may be what he was thinking, but my question there is, if Paul had thought that Jesus wasn’t coming with his angels in the glory of his Father for at least 2000 years, would he have given the same advice. I think so, because as much as he thought Jesus was returning any minute, his hope was in Jesus’ resurrection, in life after death. So, Paul taught a path of hope, and peace, and trust. Paul walked that path, and he taught the churches to walk that path as well. 

Hope. Peace. Trust.

That is a decidedly different path than Peter was on when he rebuked Jesus. Peter thought he knew the path he wanted to take. He thought he knew the path he wanted Jesus to take, a path of power and glory. So, when Jesus said that he was going to be arrested, beaten, killed, and on the third day raised, Peter rebuked Jesus for being on what he thought was the wrong path. Power, glory, destruction of enemies, that’s the path Peter thought Jesus should have been on.

Now, they hadn’t been walking the path of power, glory, or destruction. Peter had been with Jesus for years, watching Jesus walk the path of hope, and peace, and trust, and yet, somehow Peter still thought the path they were on was power, glory, and destruction.  

“You are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things,” Jesus told Peter. Peter assumed he knew the end, power and glory, and so he was ignoring the actual path they were walking. That continues to happen quite a lot in the church. Sometimes followers of Jesus know how things should be, and they are so determined for things to be that way, that they leave the path of hope, peace, and trust in order to force their way in the world. 

They form groups based on political beliefs to try to force things to be the way they think Jesus wants them to be. They try to pass laws to force others to conform to their morals or beliefs. They want Jesus’ kingdom here on earth, and they try to make it happen, but the path they end up walking is the path of power, glory, and destruction. 

That wasn’t the way of Jesus, it wasn’t the way of Paul, and even Peter abandoned that way of power and glory after Jesus’ resurrection. They all walked in the path of hope, peace, and trust. That’s the way of the church. 

I want to walk that path, except of course in the times when I don’t because I want to walk the path of power, glory, and destruction, because I want my way and I know how things should be, and I’m angry, or I’m frustrated, or whatever else it is. Jesus tells us to take up our cross as we follow him, and we put onto that cross what that cross represented for Rome: power, glory, and destruction. We put on to that cross our desires to force our way in the world and crucify those with Christ so that we can then walk with Christ in the path of hope, peace, and trust.

We don’t know exactly where that’s going to lead in this life. We seek to bring healing and love as we walk the path of Jesus. We crucify our desires for power, glory, and destruction, forcing the world to be how we want, and we don’t know when or how the path will end. We do know we can’t force Jesus’ kingdom on the world. We can’t force Jesus’ kingdom to come. It isn’t ours to bring about. So, when will Jesus’ kingdom fully come? Where exactly will walking the path of Jesus lead? We don’t know, but we don’t need to know. We don’t need to know the path. We just need to walk it.

Let It Go, For We Are People of Resurrection

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.”

Giving Up the Power of Anger and Receiving the Power of Forgiveness

The Rev. Brad Sullivan

Lord of the Streets, Houston

January 11, 2026

1 Epiphany, Baptism of Jesus

Isaiah 42:1-9

Psalm 29

Matthew 3:13-17

I have been struggling with sadness over the last several days. A 37-year-old woman was shot and killed by an ICE agent in Minneapolis while in her car, apparently trying to drive away from the agents. In response, our government has called her a terrorist and said she brought the killing on herself. There’s been the now usual clash of responses to her killing, folks on the right claiming that it was her fault and that she should have been killed, and folks on the left saying it was an ICE Agent murdering an innocent woman. Fear and anger. Fear and anger. 

Closer to home, a young woman was shot and killed on a METRO bus by a couple of teenagers here in Houston. They weren’t even trying to kill her, they’d gone on the bus to kill someone else, like that’s any better. Fear and anger. Fear and anger. 

Hearing about these things last week, along with everything else that’s…the crud of the world, I’ve had to deal with my anger quite a lot. I’ve been snapping at my family a bit, brooding, and working to keep my anger in check

What has helped me keep my anger in check is many things. Prayer. Medicine. Writing a song to get the anger out in a constructive way. Talking about how angry I am with a couple of people I know I can trust to hear me without sharing my anger, spreading my anger, or using it against me.

The reason for all that work is the knowledge that if left unchecked, my anger will take over, and I will harm others, probably just with words, but I’ll be looking for a fight, looking for any way to lash out at someone. That’s me. No work required. Scared, angry, and wanting to lash out at anyone and everyone. 

I do the work required not to lash out at everyone because I firmly believe that lashing out like that is not the right way to live. Anger feels good, feels powerful, till it overpowers us. Then, when we lash out at people in anger, people tend to get hurt, and people tend to die. When we lash out at people in anger, a young woman gets shot and killed on a METRO bus. When we lash out at people in anger, a 37-year-old woman gets shot and killed in her car. Such is the world when we lash out in anger, when we don’t do the work to be healed of our anger, and when we instead take the power of our anger out on others.

Jesus showed us a better way. Jesus showed us to use our power for justice and peace. 

Today, we’re remembering the day when Jesus was baptized. He walked into the River Jordan to be baptized by John for the forgiveness of sins. Presumably he didn’t particularly need to be baptized. Jesus was the Son of God, God himself who had become human. So, as far as sins which separate us from God and one another, Jesus didn’t have that sinfulness. Jesus didn’t and couldn’t separate himself from himself. Jesus didn’t need baptism and he chose to be baptized anyway. Even though he was God, Jesus emptied himself of that power. Jesus didn’t raise himself up above everyone else. He chose to serve others, instead. In that service of humanity, Jesus chose to join with us even in baptism for turning our lives around, not because Jesus needed it but because we do. 

Jesus had power, and like all people with power, he could have chosen to use his power either to help or to harm others. There have always been people with power, and those with power have used their power to help promote justice and peace for others or to improve their own lives at the expense of others, forcing the world to be like they want it, hurting and killing the powerless in order to get their way. We see in Jesus which of those two ways is the way of the one who has all power, the way of God.

Jesus had all the power of the universe and more, and Jesus chose to serve humanity, rather than rule it. Jesus had all the power of the universe and more, and Jesus chose to teach and guide others. Rather than use his power to force people to follow his desires, Jesus used his power to heal, to help, and to guide.

Such is the way of God. You want to know who God is and what God’s ways are? Look at Jesus.

God chooses to be with us as a fellow human being. God chooses love and relationship over forcing us to be right all the time. God is here with us in tragedy. God forgives us and invites us to forgive others. God teaches us to let go of our anger and our fear, to give them over to him so that we may be healed. In these and so many other ways, God strengthens us for recovery and healing. God offers us that healing and love.

God doesn’t force us, and God doesn’t bribe us with wealth and riches. A little side bar here, but let no other preachers mislead you. Jesus does not promise wealth. Jesus does not promise riches. If you’re expecting Jesus or your faith in Jesus to bring you wealth and riches, then you are praying to something other than God. I mean, you can pray to God for riches, but if you expect that because you believe in Jesus, God will make you rich, that’s not God. Jesus doesn’t teach that our salvation comes from wealth. In fact, Jesus tells us the truth, that our wealth ends up consuming us. Wealth may feel powerful, but as we see in the world today, a lot of people end up using that power to further enrich themselves, rather than giving away that power to serve justice and peace.

Wealth often ends up consuming us, kind of like our anger does. If feels powerful, but then it ends up overpowering us.

Now, back to God and what Jesus shows us about God. I’m really tired of the ultra-rich harming people through their wealth, and I’m really tired of people killing other people out of their anger. What we have seen of Jesus makes me think that perhaps God is tired of those things, too. In fact, from what Jesus taught and did, it’s a good bet that God is frightfully tired of people harming others through their wealth and God is frightfully tired of people harming and killing others out of their anger. 

Frightfully tired of it. What that means is, we can trust God to deal with those people as God sees fit. If people need punishment, God’s gonna give it to them. So, we can pray all of the anger we have towards people and ask God to do all of the things we want to do to those people. 

God may or may not do it, but that’s not the point of the prayer. This prayer is to be honest with God. The prayer that God will do all of the things we want to do to the people we are angry with is a prayer of trust that God will do whatever is right and that we, then, don’t have to take our anger out on the world.

Praying all of our anger to God has another point as well. Remember that Jesus was baptized with a baptism for the forgiveness of sins. God was baptized with a baptism for the forgiveness of sins, joining with us in forgiveness of sins. God joined God’s own forgiveness with us. 

So, in praying our anger to God, we’re also praying for forgiveness. We may not pray for forgiveness right away, but that’s the goal. We pray our anger over to God to give over the power of our anger and to receive instead the power of forgiveness. 

Those who killed the young woman on the METRO bus and who killed the 37-year-old woman in Minneapolis chose to use their power of anger to force their way on the world, and death followed. 

When we pray our anger over to God to give over the power of our anger and to receive instead the power of forgiveness, life follows. In Jesus’ baptism, God showed us that forgiveness is who is how God is. Jesus taught over and over how people could turn their lives around and be healed by loving others and by loving God. On the cross, as he was being killed, Jesus prayed, “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” 

Baptism, forgiveness. Life and teaching, forgiveness. Death and resurrection, forgiveness. God would so much rather forgive than punish, and that is where we find our way when we are lost in and consumed by anger. Give that anger to God so that death will not be your way, and receive instead the power of forgiveness, so that life may follow.

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.

A Squadron of Inner Demons

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
St. Mark’s, Houston
June 22, 2025
Proper 7, C
Luke 8:26-39

When Jesus cast the legion of demons out of the man in Gerasa, his healing was far reaching. The man was back in his right mind, no longer a danger to himself, no longer a danger to those around him. His community was healed because they no longer had the crazy demon-man just outside of town, afraid he may come and harm them at any moment. His community was then further healed because the man told everyone what Jesus had done for him.

This is the kind of healing I’d say all of us and everyone we know can experience, because all of us are struggling with our own inner demons. Now, I don’t mean full-on Exorcist kind of demon possession. I do believe that sometimes people are full-on possessed by demons, like the man who had a legion of demons in him, which Jesus cast into the pigs, and I believe Jesus has the power to cast out those demons. Powerful as they may be, Jesus is God, but what I’m talking about here is not that kind of demon possession. Please, no one go out from here saying, “the preacher said I’m possessed by demons.”

I’m talking about what we call our inner demons, our lesser angels. Think about things within us that keep us isolated, harming others and ourselves. Ways that we choose to be right and angry, rather than in love and charity with others. How we hold on to grudges and let that poison eat away at us, slowing harming those around us too. Think about the contempt we have for others, the fear we let lead our lives, and the huge amounts of time and money we spend numbing and trying to feel better.

We may not have a legion of full-on demons possessing us, but I’d guess most of us at least have a decent sized gang or a small squadron of inner demons messing with our lives. I can hear our lesser angels shouting, “What have you to do with us, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Don’t torment us. Just leave us alone so we can torment people.”

I see a lot of people who as far as I know aren’t possessed by demons, but their lesser angels, their inner demons are going strong. Fear from past hurts cause us to lash out in all kinds of ways. Where I work, I see a lot of this among Houstonians who are experiencing homelessness. Past trauma, combined with the trauma of being homeless and a profound lack of sleep and safety. Some folks have the additional challenges of mental health struggles and addiction.

There’s a crud ton of inner demons I see every day, and whether the inner demons are cause by trauma, homelessness, mental illness, or even the daily stress of a regular, working, with a home kind of life, our inner demons tend to do the same things to us that the legion was doing to the man in Garasa. We’re not exactly living among tombs, but metaphorically, sometimes we are, our inner demons keeping us from good relationships and community, leaving us in darkness.

Well, as we heard in our Gospel reading today, Jesus brings light into our darkness. For the man with the legion of demons, the first thing that happened was that Jesus was there with the man. Then, Jesus had a conversation, not just with the man, but with the demons; he knew exactly what he was dealing with. Then, he cast them out and brought light into the man’s darkness.

For us and our inner demons, the first thing to do is invite Jesus in. Ask for Jesus’ help in healing us and bringing light into our darkness. Then, have a conversation with Jesus, telling him everything that’s going on. We call this confession, being totally honest with God about ourselves. God knows all of it anyway, so we might as well tell the truth, trusting in God’s compassion and love for us. Then, offer to God all of your inner crud, handing all of your inner demons over to Jesus. Ask Jesus to hold them and heal them, to hold and heal you.

Then, commit or recommit to walk in Jesus’ ways. Like the man with the legion of demons, our healing goes far beyond ourselves as we bring greater light into the world. We bring healing to others as we are healed. Our anger turns to peace and forgiveness, our fear turns to trust and acceptance, our desires to be right turn to love and charity. Then, do it again, over and over, every day, continually seeking healing from Jesus.

The world could use more of that: peace and forgiveness, trust and acceptance, love and charity. That’s living out Jesus’ mission for the church, for us to be healed that we may help bring healing to others, to a world full of inner demons, bringing love and light.

Letting Go of the Rules and Raising the Kid We Actually Have: (a jaunty little sermon about the apocalypse)

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
November 17, 2024
Proper 28
Daniel 12:1-3
Psalm 16
Mark 13:1-8

So, having kids is kind of a crazy thing. We had our first over 16 years ago, and as much preparation as we put into having that little guy, it was still the absolute end of one age and the beginning of another once he was born. On the one hand, the instant I held him for the first time, I felt this burst of love suddenly happen inside of me. I loved him and found him more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen. At the same time, when the nurses said it was time for us to leave the hospital and go home with our baby boy, I thought they must be joking and that they might should be held liable for gross negligence for leaving us with this baby, when they obviously knew what they were doing, and we obviously didn’t.

Being at home with our infant son, we quickly found that freedom and time to rest without responsibility was gone. There were times I’d look on with nostalgic jealousy at our non-babied friends, thinking, “whatever happened to that life?”, while still loving our son more than anything.

Yes, having a child was the end of an age for my wife and me and the beginning of another age. We prepared, we read books, we got lots of unasked-for advice from lots of well-meaning people, and I remembered how my parents raised me, so I had some idea of what to do. We tried out all of the parenting techniques we knew and had learned. Some of it worked. Some of it really, really didn’t, and I found that raising this kid was a lot different than my parents raising me. The stuff they did with me, it didn’t work with him. 

That gave me a lot of anxiety because raising my son wasn’t going according to the rules I knew. So eventually, I had to let get go of some of those child-rearing rules and learn to raise this particular child. I had to trust him to be who he was, even if who he was didn’t fit into parenting rules that I knew. 

I bring this up because when Jesus talked about the end of one age and the coming of a new age, he talked about violent upheaval and he called all of that violent upheaval, “birthpangs.” “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.” He paints a pretty frightening picture talking about wars and rumors of wars, but he likens the whole thing to giving birth. 

The whole giving birth process kinda sucks. Painful, body stretching in ways it just doesn’t fully snap back from, the baby kinda violently thrust out of its comfortable, safe home into this crazy world of ours…and then there’s new life. One age has ended, and a new age begins with new life. 

Daniel spoke of new life at the end of the ages in his prophecy which we heard today. “Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.” Again, part of that sounds awesome, part of it, kind of less awesome. Daniel writes of the end of the life that we know and the beginning of some new kind of life. 

What will that be like? What exactly does Daniel mean? Well, the most honest answer is, “we don’t exactly know,” but that hasn’t stopped people from trying to figure it all out. Looking at the passages from Daniel and looking at other parts of scripture which describe life after this life, the church and various groups within the church have come up with all sorts of explanations and rules. Explanations of what life after death will be like, and rules about how to end up with everlasting life, not everlasting contempt. 

You’ve got to believe in Jesus in just the right way or be baptized in just the right way. You’ve got to be among God’s elect, or you’ve got to choose Jesus. You’ve got to make sure you don’t backslide, or if you do, you’ve got to make sure to repent before you die. Many churches have gotten pretty exact in describing exactly how the eternal life rules work so folks can be assured that they have eternal life because they believe in Jesus and have done all these things. 

The problem with all of these explanations and rules is that they are based in fear and anxiety. The idea of being raised to everlasting contempt sounds awful, and we should take that judgment seriously. We should take seriously the cruelty and injustice, the selfishness and violence that lead to everlasting contempt. We should take seriously God’s call to turn from cruelty and injustice. We should take seriously God’s call to turn from selfishness and violence. 

What we might shouldn’t do is make absolute doctrine and rules about how precisely to avoid being raised to shame and everlasting contempt. The rules and doctrine may help alleviate our fear of God’s judgment, but what happens is, we end up with our faith in rules and doctrine, rather than faith in God. Having some notion of doctrine around the end times is fine, but eventually we’ve got to just put our trust in God. Let our anxieties go, give our anxieties to God, not to doctrine and rules, and trust God with any new age to come.

The same is true for what Jesus taught. Countless ages have come and gone since Jesus said these words about the end of the age, and every time, folks have said that the end of their age was the one Jesus was talking about. Folks have looked to many descriptions of the end times in the Bible, and they’ve picked them apart and analyzed them, and they’ve said quite confidently, “See! It’s all happening now. This is the end Jesus was talking about!” Well, so far, everyone who has said that has been wrong. There have been many ages of humanity that have come and gone in the last 2000 years, and none of them have been the end that Jesus was talking about. 

We’ve got lots of images and texts to analyze to try to figure out which end of an age will be the end Jesus was talking about, and the only thing we know for certain is that we’re never going to know, and we’re going to be wrong every time. Jesus said that he didn’t even know when that end was going to be, and we think we’re going to figure it out? 

That not knowing can leave us with a bit of anxiety…so we naturally try to figure it out, get right with God before the end, etc. Again, that ends up placing our faith in rules and doctrine before our faith in God. 

Like rules and advice for parenting, it’s helpful, but eventually you’ve got to learn to parent the kid you’ve got. 

Having some notion of doctrine around the end times is fine, but eventually we’ve got to just put our trust in God. Let our anxieties go, give our anxieties to God, not to doctrine and rules, and trust God with any new age to come, trusting that whatever else the new age of God’s ultimate kingdom will be, it will be an age of new life. Like a baby being born, the new age of life fully lived in God’s kingdom will be the end of the life we know, and this new life will more beautiful and more beloved than anything we have ever known. 

The Medicine We Need

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets, Houston
September 22, 2024
Proper 20, B
James 3:1-12
Psalm 116:1-8
Mark 8:27-38

So, when my kids were younger and they had colds and various other things for which they’d take medicine, I would give them the medicine, and they’d pretty well take it. Maybe they’d ask, “What is this?” I’d tell them it was cold medicine and would make them feel better, and so they took it. Even then, though they had no idea of what it was or what it did. 

It wasn’t not like it was some new food that they could eat and spit out if they didn’t like it. The medicine was something they didn’t really understand at all, other than “Mom and Dad said it’s good for me, so I’ll take it.” It occurred to me at one point just how much trust there was in that. They were curious about it, but otherwise, the thought of not taking it didn’t really occur to them. We said it was good for them, that it would help them, and so with no further understanding, they took they medicine. 

Jesus’ trust in God was like that trust of a child. What did he do in the garden of Gethsemane, when he wanted to walk away from it all and not be arrested and killed? Jesus prayed, “not my will be done, but your will be done.” God had joined with humanity by becoming human as Jesus, and so in dying on the cross, God joined physically with humanity even in our death, so that nothing, not even death itself, can separate us from God. 

To Jesus, in the garden of Gethsemane, it is as if God said, “Your death is the medicine that humanity needs,” so Jesus, without even fully understanding said, “Ok, I trust you; your will be done.” Jesus had the trust of a child. 

Jesus also compared himself to a child. When his disciples were arguing among themselves about which one of them was the greatest, Jesus brought a child to them and said, “If you welcome a child, you welcome me.” Don’t worry about who is greatest. Trust in God. The child that Jesus brought to them had no greatness like the disciples wanted, but the child did have the trust of a child beloved of their parents. Jesus didn’t desire greatness from his disciples, but rather trust, knowing that setting aside their egos and trusting in God is what would be best for all of them. Trusting in God was the medicine they needed.

In James’ letter which we heard today, he wrote to a church that was in need of some medicine as well. The sickness from which some of them seemed to be suffering was “bitter envy and selfish ambition,” kinda like Jesus’ disciples before them.  

“Who is the greatest?” Jesus’ disciples asked. They were jockeying for position, wanting to have power and glory in Jesus’ kingdom. Those to whom James was writing seem to have been doing the same thing, fighting among themselves, trying to gain advantage over one another. Who was going to be in charge? Who was going to have more power and authority over the others?

I dare say that’s something we do in our lives too. Whether we’re wanting greatness in the larger society around us or we’re simply wanting some power over the people in our lives, most of us have some ways that we want greater power. That need for greatness is fueled by insecurity of not being good enough. That need for power is fueled by fear and a desire for greater control in our lives, control over others so they don’t have control over us. Our desires for greater power and control are totally understandable, and those desires sound like wanting the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, trusting in our own power, rather than letting go some of our power and trusting in God. 

Jesus taught his disciples to give up their desires for power and to trust God like a little child because Jesus knew that would heal them more than gaining the power they sought over one another. If they got the power and greatness they wanted, their fear and insecurity would still be there. They would constantly be at odds with one another, constantly fighting for more power, not trusting each other. Power and greatness wouldn’t heal them, but just give them more over which to be fearful and insecure. 

The medicine that would heal the disciples and did heal the disciples was to entrust their lives to God. When they did, what happened in their lives? Peace, gentleness, mercy. They found they could face the challenges of life, not always getting their way, but finding greater peace with life’s challenges, trusting in God. Greatness be damned, Jesus’ disciples found they didn’t need it.

What Jesus’ disciples found was that greatness within the church wasn’t about power but about service. Those who seek power within the church by seeking positions of authority misunderstand the way of Jesus and the places of importance within the church.

What is the most important work of the church, and where is that work done? The most important work of the church is done in the actions and relationships of all of the members of the church. The most important work of the church is how all of us live and teach the love of Jesus. How do we love and serve one another? How do we heal the wounds of the world by caring for those around us? How do we help others have the peace of God that comes through trusting in Jesus? That is the great work of the church, and it is done by everyday Christians, regular folks. 

All of the perceived greatness within the church, the pastors, the priests, the bishops, all of their work is done to support the great work of the church, the work of everyday people living as Jesus’ disciples in our everyday lives. 

Where does that work come from? How is that work done? The great work of everyday Christians is done first and foremost by trusting in God. In all of the changes and chances of our lives, we find peace and belonging by seeking God’s wisdom from above. As James wrote, “the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.”

Our conflicts and disputes come from our cravings, even our cravings to be right, even our cravings to force others to be right and righteous. That’s wanting control over the world, wanting power and greatness. Rather than seek power and greatness, we are taught to submit ourselves to God. It may seem like getting our way would heal us, but it won’t. Like a kid getting medicine they doesn’t understand from their trusted parents, we are healed by trusting in God more than in ourselves.  

Trusting in God, Neither Tame Nor Tidy

The Rev. Brad Sullivan

Lord of the Streets

June 16, 2024

Proper 7, Year B

Job 38:1-11

Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32

Mark 4:35-41

“The Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind: ‘Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?’” (Job 38:1) Well, Job and Job’s friends were the ones who darkened counsel by words without knowledge. When things first went really badly for Job, his family had been killed, his land and livelihood destroyed, his friends sat quietly with him for days. At that point, they were being great friends. Then they stared opening their mouths, telling Job all the self-righteous platitudes that they knew. They kinda had to because without that, there wouldn’t have been a story. 

See, Job was written as a story meant to be told to give lessons. It’s probably not a true story. So, the story is set up with God and Satan, “The Adversary,” making a wager about whether or not Job, who was a righteous man, would curse God, if all he had was taken away. Satan figured he would, God figured he wouldn’t. This opening to the story shows right off the bat that the tragedy which happened to Job was not because he was sinful. He was absolutely righteous, and tragedy still struck him.

A prevailing thought among some religious folks is that if you’re bad, bad things are gonna happen to you, and if you’re good, good things are gonna happen to you. Right off the bat, the story of Job tells us that ain’t true. 

There was also the question of praising God, and why wouldn’t Job praise God? He’d been blessed beyond measure and never had the slightest reason not to praise God. In the end, with everything taken from him, Job didn’t curse God, but he did put God to the test. Job’s question was basically, “How could you possibly let this happen to me, God? Do you have any justice at all?”

With God’s reply, Job realized that his simplistic view of the world didn’t hold water. As Moshe Greenberg points out on the website, “MyJewishLearning.com,” Job had been so fortunate his whole life, he had never even considered why people who had suffered tragedy might praise God. Before tragedy struck him, Job had been right there with his friends claiming to understand God and God’s world. They all figured Job was blessed because he was righteous, and others who weren’t as blessed as Job were obviously less righteous than Job. Through Job’s experience of loss, Job, his friends, and we the readers see that the world is not so simple as good people are blessed and bad people are cursed. We are shown the fact that there are terrible things that happen to people, and it is not necessarily God’ will or the people’s fault that those tragedies happen. Bad things happen. Period. Through the story of Job, we’re able to face the reality that the world and God’s actions in the world are far more complex than we like to imagine. 

God’s favor is not always seen in life going well. Tragedy is not understood as God’s punishment for sin. We might shouldn’t boast too greatly about our knowledge of how exactly God works in this world, lest like Job and his friends, we darken counsel by words without knowledge. 

As I’ve said before, our brains crave certainty and for things to fit in nice, tidy categories, with everything making easy, understandable, rational sense. Unfortunately for our poor little brains, God doesn’t tend to fit into our comfortable little boxes of easy, understandable rationality. We want God tame and tidy, and God just isn’t tame and tidy.

So, here are some of the tame and tidy platitudes we like to use for God. “Something bad or good happened because God needed it to happen.” “They were bad, so God was judging them.” “God has a reason he put you through that tragedy.” “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” 

All of these platitudes point to some aspects of truth about God that we’re given in scripture, and all of these platitudes are darkening counsel by words without knowledge. These simple statements we use to define how God works in the world are ways we try to make sense of our world and try to make sense of God. Unfortunately, these platitudes are also ways we try to control God, to keep God tame and tidy so we can keep some feeling of control over a world we neither control nor understand.

Defining how exactly how God works in the world according to our understanding is ultimately a form of rebellion against God, because we aren’t admitting our lack of knowledge and our powerlessness. By claiming to know how the tame and tidy God works, we’re seeking power and knowledge over God which we do not possess. 

Then, as if that isn’t enough, we often claim to know how God’s judgment works not only on earth in this life, but into eternity as well. 

How often do we hear people talking about who will be going to Hell when they die? We’ve got whole doctrines in the church defining who goes to Heaven, who goes to Hell, and exactly how that all works. That work is darkening counsel by words without knowledge. Scripture specifically tells us not to ask such questions, Romans 10:6.

See, the thing is, we don’t know exactly how God’s judgment and mercy work, and we don’t need to. We aren’t taught to understand exactly how God works. We are taught to trust in Jesus and follow his ways. 

Why? Why are we taught to trust in Jesus? We see in today’s Gospel story and our story from Job, why we would trust in Jesus. At the end of Job, Job is reminded that he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about because he wasn’t there when God made the seas and determined just how far they would stretch, what their limits would be. The seas obeyed God’s voice in creation.

Then, in our story from Mark, we hear about the seas obeying the voice of Jesus. A windstorm arose as Jesus and his disciples were in a boat on the sea, and Jesus basically said to the seas, “Shut up! Quiet down. Be at peace,” and the seas obeyed Jesus’ voice.

“Were you there when I laid the foundations of the earth?” God asks Job. In our Gospel reading, we find that Jesus’ answer to that question is “yes.” “Who is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” Jesus’ disciples asked. He was the one who laid the foundations of the earth and told the seas, “Thus far shall you come, and no farther,

and here shall your proud waves be stopped.”

We’re taught to trust in Jesus because unlike all of our tame and tidy versions of God, Jesus actually is God and actually did lay the foundations of the earth. So, rather than try to keep God in our tame and tidy boxes of understanding like Job and his friends did, we are encouraged to marvel at God with awe and wonder, as Jesus’ disciples did. 

Rather than trusting our tame and tidy understandings of God, we are asked to trust in God, to trust in God’s goodness, as unfathomable as that sometimes is. We’re called to trust in God’s love which extends far beyond and is much wilder than we can conceive of. 

We are called to accept our limitations. We’re called to accept our lack of knowledge. Rather than put our trust in doctrine which is often used to explain why we are right and others are not, rather than put our trust in that tame and tidy doctrine, we are called to put our trust in God who is neither tame nor tidy. We are called to put our trust in God who is good and loving. 

Who is this Jesus, that even the winds and the seas obey him? I can’t tell you exactly, but I can tell you that I trust Jesus. I trust him for being there when the foundations of the world were laid, and I trust him for his goodness and his love. 

Trust: Judgement and Mercy Given Out of Love

The Rev. Brad Sullivan
Lord of the Streets
November 26, 2023
Proper 29 (Christ the King), Year A
Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24
Psalm 95:1-7a
Matthew 25:31-46

Trust: Judgement and Mercy Given Out of Love

When my kids were too young to talk very much or reason much at all, I would give them medicine when they were sick. They might ask what it was for, I’d tell them it was to help them feel better from their cold. They’d basically say, “Ok, Daddy,” and they’d drink whatever medicine it was. It occurs to me, that’s a good amount of trust. They didn’t know what it was; they didn’t know what it did. I said it was to help them out, and so they took it. They trusted their dad.

They’re older now, and they can definitely talk and reason things out. For the most part, I can explain why advice I may give is a pretty darn good thing to follow, and they can understand why they would, or in some cases, wouldn’t follow that advice. Even now, however, there are still sometimes when they wonder why, and the answer is, “I really can’t explain it all. You kinda just gotta trust me.”

We can look at the Gospel in a similar way. Sometimes we really understand the ways of God and what Jesus is teaching us. Other times, we don’t really understand it all, and we kinda just gotta trust God. Today’s passage on the judgement of the nations is one of those passages where, rather than figure it all out, we kinda just gotta trust God. Here’s why.

In the story Jesus tells, at the end of time, all of the people of the earth will be gathered before God, and Jesus will separate them out into sheep and goats. The goats will be sent to eternal fire. The sheep will be welcomed into God’s kingdom. The determining factor in these two outcomes is how we treat one another here on earth. This is pretty clear throughout scripture, that God judges us based on how we treat one another. As we heard God say in our Ezekiel reading,

I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean sheep. Because you pushed with flank and shoulder, and butted at all the weak animals with your horns until you scattered them far and wide, I will save my flock, and they shall no longer be ravaged; and I will judge between sheep and sheep.

So, from these passages, we can see several important truths:

We are all, at some point, going to die. The world will, one day, end. How we live our lives is vitally important. We are all immeasurably loved by God. We are all loved by others. How we treat one another matters greatly in this life, and how we treat one another determines how we will be judged by God.

Are we harming one another? Are we caring for one another? Do we push with flank and shoulder and assert our will over others? If so, God has promised judgement upon us. Do we care about people other than ourselves? Do we help one another out when we’re in need? If not, God has promised judgement upon us. If we’re going to take our faith seriously, then we need to take seriously God’s judgement for how we treat one another. After all, God takes it seriously, seriously enough to endure the hardships we place on one another.

“Am I a God near by, says the Lord, and not a God far off? Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them? says the Lord. Do I not fill heaven and earth? says the Lord.” (Jeremiah 23:23-24) Jesus is the one sitting on the judgement seat, separating us into sheep and goats, and Jesus is also present in our lives, receiving the blessings we give one another and receiving the hurt and harm we give one another. So, how we treat one another matters greatly.

At the same time, God became human and died on a cross for our sins, giving us grace and forgiveness for all of the ways we harm one another.

Those seem kind of in conflict, don’t they? God gives us grace and forgiveness for all of the ways we harm one another, and how we treat one another determines how we will be judged by God.

We could try to put a bow around this conflict, explain the seeming contradictions away to make it all work out very nicely. Many churches and preachers have done this over the centuries. We’ve got all kinds of ways of fixing or relieving the tension between God’s judgement of us based on our actions and God’s forgiveness and grace. The problem is that when we explain this in ways that remove the tension, we tend not to take the whole story seriously.

We end up talking about grace only. Because you believe in Jesus, you have grace, and any terrible things you’ve done to others are forgiven. That’s not the story Jesus told in our gospel today.

So, then others end up talking about judgement only, constantly threatening people with fire and torment to get them to believe in Jesus or change something about their lives. That’s what I call grace for us and judgement for others. You’re going to be judged because you live life in a particular way (usually because of one or two particular things that I find icky). That places us in God’s judgement seat.

In a way, so does the grace only side. You don’t have to worry about judgement because you believe in Jesus. That judgement isn’t ours to give. That judgement seat isn’t ours to occupy.

Grace for all. Judgement for all. Grace for believers, judgement for everyone else. All of these are nice and tidy with bows around them. None of these take Jesus’ gospel seriously.

If we take Jesus’ gospel seriously, then we realize that all of the ways we try to get God’s judgement and grace to fit together nicely is ultimately a selfish endeavor. God’s desire is not just that we selfishly try to avoid punishment by treating each other just well enough to make the cut, caring about others only out of self-preservation.

No, God’s desire is that we actually learn to love one another. How we treat one another matters, and what did Jesus tell his disciples? What was his last commandment to them. “Love one another.” Love cares about the other person. Love does not place me in God’s judgement seat saying, “You aren’t treating others well so I’m going to treat you badly.” Love does not impose my will over others, forcing them to do what I want, good or bad. Love actually cares about the other.

Love takes God’s judgement seriously by believing in the absolute belovedness of every human being. Love also takes God’s grace and forgiveness seriously because of how often we can’t or don’t know how to love others well.

Love doesn’t need a bow around God’s grace and judgement because love trusts.

Look at Jesus’ judgement. It is judgement made out of love, love which sorrows at the ways we harm one another. God’s love can’t abide the ways we hate one another. Gods’ love can’t abide the ways we tear each other down, cause each other’s pain, ignore each other’s pain. Love desires that we love one another. Love says how we treat one another matters. I can trust that.

Look at Jesus’ mercy and grace. It is mercy and grace given out of love, love which knows how hard it is to live our lives. God’s love is not just on a judgement seat far off, but with and within each one of us. God’s love understands how we hurt one another out of our own hurt and fear. God’s love has compassion and mercy on us because God sees that we are hurt and broken. I can trust that.

I can’t explain exactly how God’s judgement fits with God’s grace and forgiveness. Whenever I do, I end up with a selfish, fearful, judgy mess. This is one of those times where I can’t really explain it all. I just gotta trust.