Faith, Grace, and Hope

Famously, pastors are trained to preach with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. Even if we do not directly refer to the latter, the Spirit reminds us of what is happening in the world around us. The call to discipleship always has a context- a time, a place, and fruits of the Spirit that are needed in action.   When the Civil War in the United States broke out, the Episcopal churches in the seceded states of the South formed the Protestant Episcopal Church in the Confederate States of America. While some historians argue that the split was pragmatic since it would be hard to govern a church across two warring nations, the reality is that the splinter denomination did support the institution of chattel slavery. They tolerated the perverted teaching of “Christian slavery”- claiming care and concern for the enslaved people who were legally, socially, and spiritually considered property.  In 1862, the Episcopal General Convention met in New York City. The war wa...

Text: John 1:29-42 The season of Epiphany, which we are in right now, can get a little lost in the church year. Coming between Christmas and Lent, it is a curious, transition space with John the Baptizer, the call of the disciples, and early teaching and miracles. In this season, we are asked to look at the same world we’ve always known and see something entirely different. That need for epiphany- a new way of seeing happens for the people in today’s gospel. John, son of Zechariah, is standing by the Jordan, at the edge of the wilderness. He’s doing his thing: wearing odd clothes, eating strange food, preaching repentance, dunking people in the muddy water, challenging the status quo. People are coming to see him because he is interesting, but they know what to expect as they come. One day, John looks up and sees Jesus walking toward him. John doesn’t just say, "Hey, there’s my cousin." He says something that would have greatly surprised his listeners: "Behold, the Lamb ...

When we read the story of Jesus standing in the Jordan River, we often focus on the divine "I." We hear that voice from the heavens breaking through the clouds like a thunderclap: "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." It is a moment of profound, individual identity. It’s the ultimate "I see you." And if we aren’t careful, we stop there. Baptism becomes our personal insurance, a moment between "me and my God," rather than the instant that changes and shapes our whole life. The water of the Jordan was what was known as “living water,” meaning it moved as opposed to being stagnant or still. It flows. It connects the mountaintop to the sea. We are called to use fresh water, lots of it, and to pour it generously when we baptize to recall this living and moving water. The act and the call of baptism is never just about an "I"; it is the radical, difficult, and beautiful transition into a "we." In our liturgies, ...