Author Archives: lindasgalvin

Swords Into Ploughshares

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Sermon preached for Advent Sunday 2025 based on Isaiah 2:1-5 and Matthew 24:36-44

The book of Isaiah is one of my go-to books in the bible when I want to think about hope and the future. It is traditionally attributed to Isaiah ben Amoz, who prophesied during the 8th century BC, primarily in Jerusalem, whose ministry occurred during a tumultuous period in the history of the Israelite kingdom of Judah, which was marked by political instability and threats from powerful empires like Assyria and Babylon. His prophecies addressed both the immediate concerns of his time and the future of Israel.

Now, the first thing to say is that when we talk about Israel in the bible, it is not the same thing as the modern- day Zionist state that was created in 1948 through the Balfour Declaration of 1917, and we shouldn’t equate one with the other. Biblical Israel, spoke about a covenant people of God, whose religion had ancient roots, based on the Torah and the worship of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Zionism, on the other hand, is a modern political ideology that seeks to establish and maintain a Jewish state, irrespective of religious beliefs.

However, these two factors played a part in making me initially feel saddened that Isaiah’s prophecy they ‘they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more’ seems so remote today as it perhaps has throughout human history.

I would venture to say that every time each of us prays, we include a prayer for peace, it being one of the most longed for answers we seek, yet it never quite materialises in the way we hope. I think this feeling that I had was increased by having listened to a track that Elton John wrote on his album Blue Moves called “If There’s a God in Heaven (What’s He Waiting For?)”. The song is characterized by its powerful lyrics that address themes of societal breakdown, poverty, and the apparent indifference of a higher power to human suffering.

I then have to shake myself away from these thoughts and remember that God always hears our prayers, is aware of and is already dealing with these situations, by putting the right people in the right place to bring about peace, but that the gift of human free-will means that political and personal ambitions of some individuals and groups are deaf to the possibility that people could actually live in peace as a human race.

So, we look at global conflict, economic uncertainty, cultural turmoil, and natural disasters, and we wonder where history is heading and when things will finally be made right. Scripture does not shy away from that longing, and this morning’s readings speak directly to the tension of waiting, and the hope we have in God’s promises and the need to be prepared. As we enter the Advent season, we are called to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ and the importance of being vigilant and ready for his return.

Isaiah presents a vision of the future where ‘the mountain of the Lord’s shall be established’, and ‘all the nations shall stream to it’. This powerful imagery symbolizes a time of peace and unity under God’s reign, and he encourages us to look beyond our current struggles and to envision a world transformed by God’s presence. Whilst Jesus is giving us a warning about the future – that we must be ready because the exact time of his second coming is unknown.

Isaiah sees something extraordinary: ‘In days to come’ he says, God’s mountain will be raised up, and all nations will stream to it. This is not just a picture of Israel’s hope—it’s a picture of the world’s hope. He describes a future where the desire of the nations is God Himself. This is truly remarkable because as I’ve just mentioned, our world today is drawn toward power, wealth, and conflict. But Isaiah sees a day when the gravitational pull of the world shifts—when people are attracted not by violence or self-interest, but by the wisdom, justice, and beauty of God.

Then we have that most beautiful promise of complete peace, because all thoughts and means of conflict will end. Isaiah is not offering a politician’s promise or a human dream. He is offering God’s future. A future where instruments of destruction become tools of cultivation. A future where military forces are no longer needed. A future where peace is not maintained by threat, but by transformation.

Isaiah’s vision doesn’t end simply with this poetic imagery, the following verse is a command to walk in the light now. ‘O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!’. In other words, live now as if that future is already coming, by letting the future shape the present.

So, if Isaiah is showing us the goal, Jesus shows us the urgency. Jesus says very clearly, ‘But about that day and hour no one knows…only the Father. He also uses a simple but sobering image: a homeowner who would have stayed awake if he knew when the thief was coming. This timing belongs to God alone; not to angels, nor prophets, not to the most educated believers, not even Jesus in his earthly humanity. We cannot predict the day, we can only prepare for it.

‘They shall beat their swords into ploughshares,
and their spears into pruning-hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more’

Jesus compares his second coming to the days of Noah. People were eating, drinking, marrying—living ordinary lives—when suddenly everything changed in an instant. There will be no email alert, no breaking-news headline, no world calendar reminder. Life will be going on as usual when Christ returns, which is precisely why we must always be ready. A readiness born out of love, loyalty, and longing—not anxiety.

Isaiah says God’s future is glorious – walk toward it. Jesus says God’s coming is unexpected – stay awake for it. So how are we invited to live between these two messages? Well, Isaiah invites us to allow the future peace of God to shape the way we see today’s world. Christians are not naïve optimists who pretend evil doesn’t exist. We are hopeful realists who believe evil does not have the final word. When the world is filled with conflict, when nations threaten nations, when peace seems impossible – Isaiah reminds us that God has already declared the ending.

And Jesus says readiness is not about predicting the future – it’s about being faithful in the present. Being ready does not mean standing on a hilltop, staring up at the sky. It means doing the everyday work of discipleship: loving our neighbours, seeking justice, forgiving enemies, serving the poor, praying without ceasing, living with integrity, practicing mercy, following Jesus when no one else is watching; and that’s plenty to keep our thoughts and bodies occupied in doing what we are called to do.

Jesus’ words challenge us to examine our priorities and how we spend our time. Are we focused on the mundane aspects of life, or are we actively seeking to grow in our faith and relationship with God? It is a call to action, urging us to reflect on how we can contribute to this vision of peace and justice in our own lives and communities. It challenges us to be agents of change, promoting reconciliation and understanding among nations.

The world may look dark at times, but dawn always begins in the dark. And the church is called to be a people standing on the edge of morning – a people whose lives shine with the coming light of God.

So, this Advent let us commit to deepening our relationship with God, through prayer, reading the scriptures, and acts of service. These things help us stay focused on what truly matters and prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ. To be inspired to live out our faith actively, contributing to the vision of peace and justice that Isaiah proclaims.

This Advent season, let us prepare our hearts and lives for the arrival of our Saviour, who comes to bring light and hope to the world, to anticipate the celebration of Christ’s
birth but also prepare for his ultimate return, living each day in the light of His love and grace.

This Advent let us pray for peace and know that the Prince of Peace comes to show us the way.

Amen

When looking for an image to go with this particular blog I came across this poignant painting. I would not dare to suggest what the artist, Michael Cook’s own thoughts were behind its composition, but it speaks to me of longing and hope, that in the midst of war there is a reason for fighting and a dream that new life will come, and that swords will truly be made into ploughshares. This beautiful piece of artwork was commissioned by Melbourne Parish Council to commemorate the centenary of the Armistice, and all money from sales goes back to the Parish Council. https://www.hallowed-art.co.uk/product/swords-into-ploughshares/

Agape

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Two autumnal maple leaves held together to recognise differences in the church that we hope and pray will look for unity rather than division through the shedding of Christ’s blood.

My focus as an ally of LGBTQ+ fellow Christians and those of other faiths and none, was honed by several woefully inadequate letters of apology by the bishops and leaders of the Church of England over the last few years. Through prayer, study and listening, I have concluded that there is no reason, apart from historical conservative dogma, that I cannot afford to offer the same love and blessings to all who seek to celebrate that love within the church. However, I am currently prevented from doing so.

Slow progress has been made, and the Living in Love & Faith (LLF) process has given hope that things would change and that, whilst a singular marriage service for all couples was not yet available, there was the opportunity to offer a service of blessing using the Prayers of Love and Faith resources. Despite this, the House of Bishops have recently announced that further developments would be ‘subject to further synodical processes’. Without wishing to question the wisdom and faith that brought about this decision, like others, I recognised that this was no pastoral letter, as it appears God and his people did not get a mention.

Some have indicated this sounds the death knell to any chance of same sex marriages within the Church of England, but I do believe that God moves in mysterious ways and that their is always hope that His love will overcome.

Holy Saviour,
Agape instigator,
Sentinel of justice
and of peace.
You offered a sacrifice
so costly, we cannot repay.

Whose unconditional love
is poured out
like a mighty flood;
saturating each and every soul,
to overflow to others
regardless of attitude.

Flowing to those who believe,
and those still blind.
Poured equally on those
whose prayer is grace and mercy,
and those whose words
become a shibboleth
of division and disunity.

Showered down alike
on those who live your Word
each and every day,
and those who seek to
misinterpret and subvert
with hidden agendas.

Still that love is offered,
justly on those who witness
to the ends of the earth.
and to those who speak
only of process not people,
in pharisaical fashion.

Encompassing all,
this love is offered.
To be shared not denied,
to be lived not theorised.
to be available not withheld.
Regardless of cost.

This is a boundless love,
yet some would tarnish its name,
and constrict its power,
masking it as truth,
constructed of meanness and hate,
of abuse and wounding.

Let it be not so,
for the rock on which
your church was built is firm,
this present stumbling block
will be removed,
and love will conquer in the end.

If you want to see and hear what affect these decision have on people then the Dean of Southwark Cathedral recently gave an incredibly moving sermon based on his experiences https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLM_J8YH8Fk

The Inclusive Church network, of which my church is a member, is also asking Church of England members to sign an Open Letter to express our sadness and disappointment at the recent decisions taken by the House of Bishops. If you feel able, please do so here. No voice will go unheard https://www.inclusive-church.org/llf-open-letter/

The Perfect Time In The Perfect Way

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Sermon preached on Holy Cross Day – 14th September 2025 based on Philippians 2:6-11, John 3:13-17

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

This morning, I want to start with a series of question for you to think about. What if Jesus had never come 2000 years ago, and instead was born just before the beginning of the twenty first century, around 1992 say?  What would his birth, life and ministry have looked like in the present day, but more importantly, how would it end, in order to produce the same results of millions of people coming to believe in him and in God as part of a worldwide religion?

Would he have been shot with an assassin’s bullet? Both the good and the bad have died in this way. Would he have been caught up in some major disaster, helping others and dying? With all of the social media available today, would his death have been filmed and the world clicked more than a million times on the video, with sad, caring emojis, whilst the responses became full of condolences, tasteless humour and vitriolic comments?

The problem is – and it’s not one that I want to try and reconcile at the moment – is that being legally condemned and sentenced to death is no longer an option in our justice systems.

Which is why I believe that Jesus died at the perfect time and in the perfect way.

Whatever we might think of the Jewish or Roman systems of justice, the fact that it offered crucifixion as the ultimate punishment, has enabled us to use it as means to truly see the extent of God’s love for the world and us as individuals. Which is why today the church celebrates Holy Cross Day in its calendar of liturgical feast days for remembering and honouring saints and on this occasion holy objects.

From as early as the seventh century, the church celebrated this feast day to acknowledge a particular event. This was a discovery on the 14th of September around 326AD, by Helena, the mother of the Roman emperor Constantine, of what many believed to the empty tomb and true cross of Christ during a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

She had ordered a pagan temple to be destroyed, which revealed, buried underneath, three crosses, which were assumed to be the crosses of Jesus and the two thieves. A painting by Agnolo Gaddi completed in 1380 in the choir of the Franciscan Basilica of the Holy Cross in Florence (see image above) depicts Helena making this discovery.

A first glance the painting presents six crosses, which makes it look a little like a builder’s yard in which Helena is trying to decide which cross is the real one. However, closer inspection reveals that the artist has joined two parts of the story together into one image, and on the left-hand side, in order to determine which one is that of Christ, Helena has a dying woman in a bed brought to the site, who was completely healed at the touch of the third cross. The right-hand side appears to be the cross being erected on the site of the church of the Holy Sepulchre that Emperor Constantine had built at a later date.

The story was also recorded by Jacobus de Voraigne in his book, The Golden Legend, which became an immensely popular and influential source of Christian lore during the Middle Ages, providing a convenient educational resource for clergy and laity alike, presented in an accessible, narrative style. It was one of the most widely read books of its time, second only to the Bible, and significantly influenced medieval art, poetry, and stained-glass windows, allowing ordinary, everyday people the chance to visualise the stories, many of which they were unable to read for themselves.

Helena’s ‘True Cross’ was subsequently brought back to Europe as a prize of the early church, and as news of it began to spread, countless pieces and splinters began showing up all over the continent.  The great majority, however, were forgeries (many made from wood that does not even exist in the Holy Land); and while Helena’s cross probably did come from Jerusalem, and while it almost certainly was a real cross in the sense that it was used for executions, there would have been hundreds, if not thousands of such crosses in Judea, to which we should add the likelihood that recycling, decomposition and the conversion to firewood after too many uses, makes its authenticity questionable.

Based on this, it is highly unlikely that the actual physical cross on which Jesus died would have been discovered. The fact is we don’t really need it to be so, because rather that seeing the cross as an object of worship in itself, it is better to recognise it as a symbol of Jesus’ sacrifice and salvation. It reminds us to boast in nothing, ‘except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ’.

We may regularly make the sign of the cross and many choose to bow to the cross in our liturgy, not as an idol to be prayed to, but a potent visual symbol that embodies the depth of God’s love and the height of Christ’s glory at the perfect time and in the perfect way.

The cross is both scandal and glory, weakness and power, shame and victory. When we look at the cross, we see the deepest mystery of our faith: the Son of God humbling himself to the lowest place in order to raise us up to life. The cross is not an accident of history, but the perfect plan of God’s redeeming love.

Paul tells us whilst Jesus had equality with God he does not cling to this glory. Instead, He empties himself, taking the form of a servant, entering our humanity, and embracing the frailty of flesh, which means he goes lower still, through obedience to God and to death, through the most shameful, agonizing death the world could imagine: the cross; …which was the lowest place imaginable. It was not only brutal but humiliating, reserved for criminals, designed to shame as well as kill. This shows us how far God was willing to go for our salvation. It strips away any illusion that we can earn God’s love.

As Jesus explains to Nicodemus, the Son of Man must be lifted up, which refers both to the cross and to his glory and exaltation. ‘For God so loved the world’ and the cross is the measure of that love. The cross is not about wrath unleashed but love poured out.

And we know that the story does not end in humiliation. The cross is not just a place of suffering. It is the turning point of history. It is the moment when the King is revealed at the perfect time and in the perfect way —not in worldly power, but in sacrificial love. His throne is a cross. His crown is of thorns, and he reigns forever.

The cross is our landmark, our anchor, our hope.

At the cross we see the depth of God’s love—so deep that He gave his only Son for us.

At the cross we see the height of Christ’s glory—so high that every knee will bow before him.

So let us look to the cross—not as spectators, but as believers.  We must allow it to shape how we live. We are called to humility, to self-giving love, to obedience to God’s will. The cross calls us to trust—not in our own strength, but in the love of God revealed in Jesus.

To take up our cross is to walk the path of humility, to put others before ourselves, to live in sacrificial love. The world may see that as weakness. But at the foot of the cross, we know it is the way of Christ, the way of true life, in fact the perfect life, to be lived at the perfect time and in the perfect way. Amen.

Transforming The Imperfect

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Sermon preached on Sunday 29th June 2025 – St Peter and St Paul based on Acts 12:1-11, Matthew 16:13-19

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today the church celebrates Peter and Paul, hence our very brief foray into back into red vestments. Two men, both in their way founders of the Christian church. Peter an original disciple and Paul the visionary missionary. However, our texts on this occasion focus on Peter or Simon Peter or Cephas.

They also feature the most amazing jail break ever. Not one for cinematic viewing, with explosions, masked accomplices and a speedy get away car, but an unopposed walk out to freedom, or at least for the moment, freedom.

A week or so ago, Charlie and I accompanied some 90+ Year 6 pupils to their annual Year 6 Leavers’ service. The coach journey was noisy, with excitement and anticipation, and the day was very warm as we threaded our way through to the cathedral from our drop off point, to the great West door, or doors to be more precise.

For many students, this was their first visit to the cathedral, and it’s always great to see their expressions change from their normal everyday ‘we’re too ‘grown up’ for this now’, to a real ‘Wow!’ moment as they step through the door.

Of course, when they look back at the jigsaw puzzle that is the West window, and hear about its destruction at the hands of the Cavaliers during the English Civil war – although the legend of masses of Cavaliers on horseback entering the cathedral and shooting their guns or lobbing the bones of the saints and bishops to break the window is not supported by specific records – it becomes even more amazing.

However, standing in front of the Great Screen behind the high altar and seeing all of the figure sculptures, most of which had been removed in the Tudor reformation and thus spared this destructive mayhem, a real sense of the majesty of Christ at the very centre of those who were part of his story and who took up and continued the work he had started on earth become apparent.

There, placed above Jesus’ head to the left, or at Jesus’ right hand is Peter, holding an exceptionally large key. In fact if we look at our very own East Window we can see Peter in the top left hand corner – with Paul, holding those keys.

The East Window at St James’ Church, West End, Southampton

Peter, the disciple, who so often gets it wrong as he works his way through coming to faith, but whose faith and trust in God, in the person of Jesus is unshakeable. His is a journey of transformation, and our two readings this morning reveal that journey. In fact, these two moments, separated by a few years, reveal a shaping of faith that many of us can relate to. Peter is not perfect, but he is faithful—and more importantly, God is faithful to him.

In our gospel reading, Jesus asks a pointed question, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ and it is Simon Peter who answers with boldness and clarity, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’ This is Peter at his finest, as moment of divine insight; and Jesus responds not with mere affirmation but with a calling: ‘‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! … I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock, I will build my church… I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven’.

People often wonder when and why Simon becomes Peter, and here we have the moment. The name Peter or Petros in Greek. literally means ‘stone’ or ‘rock’. The term ‘rock’ in the Bible often symbolizes strength, stability, and reliability, yet we know Peter was not always any of these things. He would deny Christ. He would falter. But Jesus sees the finished product even while Peter is still under construction. And God doesn’t wait for us to be perfect to call us. He calls us, then perfects us.

We also have to remember that whilst Peter was the ‘rock’, Jesus remained the cornerstone, the foundational stone in a building, acting as a reference point for the rest of the structure. Again, holding symbolic significance, representing that strength and stability, and the beginning of a new endeavour. Later in Ephesians 2, we hear of the Jews and Gentiles coming together as God’s people, ‘built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone’.

But now let’s turn to our reading from Acts. Here we see Peter, no longer the impetuous fisherman, nor the fearful denier by the fire. He is a leader of the church. And he is in prison. King Herod has killed James, and Peter to be next. He is chained between soldiers, guarded by sixteen men. The situation is hopeless from a human standpoint.

But the passage says, ‘the church prayed fervently to God for him’. And in the darkest hour—the night before his execution—God sends an angel. Chains fall off. Iron gates miraculously open. And Peter walks out, dazed, into the freedom only God can give.

This is the same man who once sank in fear on the water. This is the same man who once wept bitterly after denying Christ. but who at the beginning of the passage is sleeping in peace on the eve of death. What has changed? Well, Peter has learned to trust God completely. He doesn’t panic. He doesn’t beg. He rests – knowing now, after years of walking with Jesus, that even in prison, God is in control.

So where does that leave us? Where are we on our own journey of transformation? Some of us are like Simon in Matthew’s gospel—full of zeal, making bold confessions, still growing. Whilst some of us are like Peter in Acts – learning to be at peace and placing our trust in God in all eventualities.

And God sees us not as we are, but as the people we are becoming. He is building His church—not on perfect people—but on those who confess him truly and trust him deeply. And Peter’s journey, from bold confession to miraculous deliverance, reminds us that no one is beyond God’s reach, and no situation is beyond His power. So let us place our complete trust in him now, because God is still writing our stories. Amen.

The Waiting Game

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Sermon preached on the 7th Sunday of Easter based on Acts 16:16-34 and John 17:20-26

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

I’m not very good at waiting. If something needs doing, then I want to get it done as soon as possible; but sometimes waiting is the only thing to do.

So, what to do in this period of waiting? Well the first thing you could do is to do absolutely nothing. Time to catch your breath, to rest up and regain some energy; but also not conducive to being prepared when the waiting is over.

Or perhaps you could fret and pace continuously up and down, putting forward different conjectures and scenarios, trying to cover all eventualities. Surely one will turn out to be close to what is likely to happen.

Or maybe there is a third way to use this time of waiting. A time of waiting that we find ourselves in right now. A time of waiting between Ascension and Pentecost, which we know is just seven days away…

However, let’s think back to the those first disciples, still in hiding from the authorities, witnesses to some amazing events; the reappearance of their teacher after witnessing his death on the cross, satisfying themselves that this miraculous thing had happened and then watching as he ascended back to his Father, with a promise that they would not be left alone to continue the work he had prepared them for, but that a helper, the Holy Spirit would be sent.

But when? Waking up each morning wondering if this was the day, then retiring at night still fearful but hoping that tomorrow would be different. What could they do to fill this time? Do nothing; restlessly throw ideas backwards and forwards or do something else.

Yes, you’ve guessed it they went for the third option – prayer!

The disciples, after Jesus’ ascension, were instructed to wait in Jerusalem for the promised Holy Spirit. This waiting was not a passive activity, but a time of fervent prayer seeking guidance and power from the Holy Spirit. They recognized their dependence on God and understood that the Holy Spirit was essential for their mission and ministry. It also emphasized the importance of waiting with a purpose, trusting in God’s timing and anticipating the fulfilment of his promises. 

In the Old Testament, the Holy Spirit’s presence was known and experienced through God’s active involvement in the lives of individuals, particularly prophets, kings, and those called to specific ministries. The Spirit was seen as a powerful force of God, bringing about specific tasks, empowering individuals, and inspiring holiness as seen in the books of Moses, Judges and particularly Isaiah. 

From the very beginning the Holy Spirit represented God’s creative and sustaining presence, the very creator of life according to Psalm 104. The Old Testament prophets even spoke of the Holy Spirit’s role in the coming Messiah, as seen in Isaiah 42  – ‘Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him’; and again in Isaiah 11 – ‘A shoot shall come out from the stock of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him.’

The Holy Spirit also inspired holiness in believers, as mentioned in Psalm 143:10 – ‘Teach me to do your will, for you are my God. Let your good spirit lead me on a level path’. However, they also knew that while the Holy Spirit’s presence was obvious, it was not poured out on everybody during the Old Covenant, but rather limited to specific individuals and occasions. So perhaps the disciples were wondering which one of them might be chosen to receive its power.

And so they continued to pray.

Now I’m not going to spoil how their waiting ended; you’ll have to come back next week to find that out, but I wanted to think more about their choice of activity in that waiting time – prayer.

In fact our reading from Acts emphasised that prayer was still the go to occupation when you were waiting to be shown where God wanted you to be. We heard that Paul and Silas, who had started their missionary journey in Antioch, now found themselves in Philippi, and were on their way ‘to the place of prayer’ when they were waylaid by a female divinator, whose powers they curtailed, thus leading to much annoyance by the girl’s owners and accusations of unlawful sedition.

Unbowed by their punishment and ill-treatment, they spend the night ‘praying and singing hymns to God’, waiting to see what how he would rescue them from this situation. The response was an earthquake and voluntary self-incarceration which proved to be the spark for the Holy Spirit to come into play and convinced the jailer and his family to seek salvation and become believers in God.

Just like the Holy Spirit, salvation can be seen as a gift from God, not something earned through good works. Yes, it involves turning away from sinful behaviour and acknowledging the need for God’s forgiveness, but it also signifies a new spiritual life and relationship with God.

It also provides hope for the future as believers are promised eternal life in heaven, wherever that is as Vicky told us on Thursday, but we know its a place of peace and joy where God dwells with his people. 

This is the prayer that Jesus was praying in our Gospel this morning. A prayer that included a request, ‘Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory’, in order that we will all be united, ‘I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one.’ A prayer that shows that we will become an intrinsic part of the Trinity when the Holy Spirit resides within us.

An incredibly powerful prayer for us to look forward to being answered in time. But we are still here and we are still in that waiting room.

And this period of waiting provides a valuable lesson for those of us who believe. It highlights the importance of prayer when we are encouraged to engage in persistent and heartfelt prayer, seeking God’s guidance, strength, and power. And just as the disciples were anticipating the arrival of the Holy Spirit, we too can anticipate God’s presence and power in our lives, learning to trust God’s plan for our lives, so we can demonstrate our reliance on God’s power, rather than our own abilities. 

In this waiting time we should pray for God’s will to be done in our lives and in the world. ‘Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven… Amen

Do You Know How Much That Cost?

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Sermon preached on Passion Sunday 6th April 2025 based on John 12:1-8 and Philippians 3:4b-14

‘Do you know how much that cost? I could have used that for a lifetime,’ was the heated response to discovering my best perfume bottle smashed on the bathroom floor and my two daughters looking guilty, but both ready to finger point the blame on the other. ‘But mummy, we were playing princesses and you always look like a princess when you go to one of daddy’s balls, and we wanted to smell the same’.

How could one carry on being angry, with that explanation, but I did try hard for a little while longer and there was no pudding at dinner time…

The fact is we make a lot of value judgements, about things that we think are precious, we sometimes even hoard things, thinking that one day we will benefit from being the only one that has a year’s supply of toilet paper, and we salt our money away forgetting that it will be of no value to us when the final curtain comes down, and we have not made any memories for those who come after us to share.

Now I’m not suggesting that we should waste these things, and we are not going to solve world hunger or provide for all those less fortunate than ourselves overnight, but knowing when to be generous, not only with your money or your time but your love is surely more important.

In our gospel reading today we find Jesus once more visiting the home of his dear friends, Mary, Martha and Lazarus. He is on his way to Jerusalem to face a fate that will ultimately prove all of the things that he has taught his followers and fulfil the prophetic messages that the Saviour of the World, the Messiah has lived among them. It’s a fate that he accepts willingly but which is much harder to accept for those who have loved and known him as a man living among them, a man which the words of one worship song describes as ‘way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness’.

Of all the people surrounding Jesus that day in the house, it was Mary who realised that now was not the time to hoard her most precious possession, but to use it unstintingly to show her devotion to the person who had commended her choice to sit at his feet and had taught her everything she needed to know about how life should be lived.

Now it was her turn to offer a deep reverence and recognition of Jesus’ impending sacrifice. It also held a rich symbolic meaning, that through the act of anointing, an action usually reserved for the consecration of priests and kings, she recognised Jesus as the true Messiah. Where she once sat, she now anoints his feet with her hair, displaying humility and devotion.

Her use of pure nard, a valuable and aromatic oil, signifies the importance and sacredness of the moment, and its perfume was bittersweet, filling the house with its fragrance, but also a prophetic act foreshadowing Jesus’ death and burial. His acknowledgement that this was done ‘in advance of my burial’ also allows us, who already know what is to come, that there would be no need to follow the normal burial rituals as there would be no body in the tomb which to anoint!

Still, there has to be a killjoy to this incredible act of devotion, and here is where Judas steps in. I have to admit that having written a thesis on whether he might be identified as God’s scapegoat, I have own up to having a soft spot for the reviled figure of Judas.

Without Judas at this time there would have been no ‘betrayal’, no manipulated trial, no crucifixion and thereby no resurrection. Perhaps it was inevitable that someone amongst his followers would have eventually turned against him, with the promise of financial reward, but the poignancy that it was one of the disciples at this point in the story is both hard for us to comprehend as its consequences were to be for Judas.

Being a disciple meant having a unique and intimate relationship with Jesus, which makes Judas’s later actions even more significant and tragic. John’s stark statement, ‘the one who was about to betray him’ foreshadows the fulfilment of Old Testament prophecies, such as Psalm 41:9, which speaks of a close friend lifting his heel against the psalmist.

Even my close friend, someone I trusted, one who shared my bread, has turned against me.
Psalm 41:9

Moreover, Judas’ betrayal is a critical event in the Passion narrative, raising questions about predestination and human responsibility, as Judas’ action were foreknown by Jesus, yet he acted of his own volition. Here was someone who must have grown to know the true value of being one of Jesus’ disciples, but who wasn’t ready to give his all if it meant giving up what was precious to him, his life, which is ironic as his decision ended up with him doing just that.

Judas’s questioning attitude contrasts with the faith and devotion expected of a disciple and follower, highlighting his internal conflict and eventual betrayal. For John the Evangelist, who was writing his gospel some fifty years after the events of Jesus’ passion, his thoughts about why and what Judas had done had not improved with age. His scathing remarks about a thief, who stole from the common purse, does not speak of love and forgiveness, and by this time the name of Judas had become an idiom to mean someone whom you accused of being deceitful and a betrayer of friends or country.

And then there is Paul, persecutor turned zealot, but with good reason. As a 1st century Jew, he could claim to have attained a sufficient righteousness before God, exemplified by adhering to the Torah’s commandments and engaging in acts of loving-kindness, aiming to be a light unto the nations and fulfilling his purpose as one of God’s chosen people.

Yet this valuable store of righteousness, is being cast aside in exchange for what Christ is offering instead. Not a righteousness ‘that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith’. Everything is being swept aside as ‘rubbish’, of so little worth because of the value of the heavenly prize that Jesus offers, eventual resurrection from the dead.

So where do we see ourselves in all of this? Are we willing to give up everything? Do we give up those things that are precious to us to show how much faith we have?

The fact is each and everyone of us is seen by God as individuals, people who face daily decisions about how we live our lives. He knows the choices we have to make about how we spend our time and our money, but more importantly about how we share our love and our care for others. How we share the Good News that Jesus’ passion brings for all of us.

Perhaps this could be a new beginning as once more over the next couple of weeks we are going to hear the story of the greatest gift ever offered to us all. Let’s just make sure that we really hear the message and be prepared to accept and continue to generously share it each and every day going forward.

Amen

Keeping Faith

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Sermon preached on Sunday 23rd February 2025 based on Luke 8:22-25

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit

I wasn’t expecting to end up in A & E on Tuesday, I certainly hadn’t planned to be, and I didn’t know it was going to last a whole twelve hours. The day has been going so smoothly, car in the garage having new tyres fitted – tick. A pleasant visit exploring the many delights of the garden centre, including a delicious lunch in the company of two granddaughters – on their best behaviour – tick. Excited chatter in the kitchen as baking with granddad got underway and flour and eggs were beaten and cracked – tick. Just the dog to take for a walk, to get some chocolate buttons requested for decoration requested…

The thing about tripping over your own feet is that it is totally unexpected. One moment admiring the spring flowers in the gardens, the next lying prone on the pavement, having connected head with said surface with an almighty whack. Two passing motorists stopped to come to my aid, and an informal paramedic examination by my son-in-law advised me that it really was necessary to go to A&E and that I couldn’t just stick a plaster on it and carry on.

I have the say that the first three hours were somewhat unremarkable after the initial flurry of information exchanged with the admissions team as I watched a lot of people coming and not going, some in obvious pain and suffering, others beyond pretending it was all going to be fine because their bodies showed clearly their illness, and others more stoic, but nonetheless anxious because of the unknown.

At this stage I very tentatively asked the million-dollar question – and was told very politely, ‘how long is a piece of string’ and that I hadn’t been forgotten, I was moving up the list and patients were being seen in order of need. Everybody in that waiting room was in the middle of a storm, which for many had blown up out of nowhere. They were frightened and lost because there was no clear sense of when or how they would be able return to normality. A fear of not being in control to make their own decisions.

Which is exactly how the disciples were feeling. They had been with Jesus for only a short time but had already seen things that confirmed their belief in Jesus, but which were also beyond their natural comprehension, the raising of the widow’s son and healing through faith alone. One can imagine that sitting listening to Jesus preaching a series of parables from a little fishing boat, pushed out a few feet from the shore was thought provoking and challenging, as well as the crowds that were beginning to gather in their thousands to hear what he had to say on that shoreline in Galilee.

However, according to Mark’s gospel, the day is drawing to its close and Jesus wants to get to the other side of the lake, as the Sea of Galilee was also known. Saying farewell to the multitude of people, they push away from the shore to head out into the deeper water. Nothing about this is usual, this shoreline and particular body of water is home to several of the disciples; they know this lake like the back of their hand. Even sailing into the sunset would not have been unusual, as they were used to fishing through the night.

It had obviously been a long day for everyone, and so it was hardly surprising that ‘while they were sailing, he fell asleep’. Jesus is exhausted. There is no doubt that he is entirely divine and yet he is at the same time entirely human. He gets hungry and thirsty, and he suffers pain and weariness and the need for sleep. He was worn out and asleep.

However, Luke’s account is about to give us one of the most interesting displays of Jesus’ two natures: human and divine. His physical weariness as a man, and as we shall see, his divine influence over nature.

Suddenly, a gale swept down the lake. Again, nothing that may be considered unnatural. Every time a fisherman got into a boat on the Sea of Galilee, they knew the risk. This lake is nearly 700 feet below sea level, surrounded by mountains. Deep ravines coming down the mountains act like funnels for the wind, picking up incredible speed. And that cold air rushing downwards collides with the warm air on the lake and creates hurricane conditions and 20-foot waves without warning.

The boat was filling with water, and they were in danger. The boat they were in was no modern-day fishing trawler, it would have been no more than an oversized rowing boat, and in the midst of this storm, Jesus is sleeping. What to do then?

Our first question might be, how can he still be asleep, does he not know what is happening, what we are going through. I wonder if sometimes we think this when we’re in the middle of our own storm, although we might not say it out loud. Because surely, he knows everything. Maybe he does know, but he doesn’t care. One wonders why the disciples didn’t try and wake Jesus up at least ten minutes earlier, when the storm was developing, why wait till the boat was swamped? Again, many of them were fishermen, and here was a carpenter. They had seen this before and had lived through storms – just keep bailing water James and John, we can handle this!

It would be easy to criticise the disciples for failing to simply put their faith and trust in Jesus, but I wonder what our faith and trust is doing in unexpected, difficult, dangerous, painful, confusing, life-threatening situations?

Finally, in desperation, they wake him up, shouting, ‘Master, Master, we are perishing!’ And he awoke and rebuked the wind and the raging waves; they ceased, and there was a calm. The 20-foot wave heading their way, which sees them crouching down, arms covering their heads, never reaches them, instead the sea is like glass; everything is immediately still. I bet none of us has ever splashed or stirred water to find it completely motionless when we stop, but then which of US has a divine influence over nature.

He said to them, ‘Where is your faith?’. He isn’t saying ‘you have no faith’ but asking them, ‘Where did your faith go?’. Because the problem when we face unexpected tests in our life, it isn’t that Jesus isn’t there for us, it’s that our trust in Jesus goes missing. Again, the problem isn’t that Jesus stops looking after us, the problem is we stop looking to him.

In this and other similar situations, Jesus demonstrates his power and divinity, ‘Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?’

But at the heart of everything is his love and care for each of us. Certainly, Jesus may not eliminate every storm, but he guarantees his presence in every storm. He might not calm the waves and the wind, but he is able to bring a calm to our troubled hearts. So that we too can be still and know that he is God.

Back to that waiting room, then, and please don’t think that this is in any way a complaint about the service that I received. The NHS is a megalithic machine but the cogs that keep the wheels turning couldn’t be praised more. From the nurse who walked an elderly gentleman to a nearby bus stop to make sure he could get home, to the young mum reassured that her young child was not causing a disturbance because she had had to bring her with her as she accompanied her own mother; to the cup of tea offered, unrequested just at the right moment when refreshment was needed. At each and every turn there was kindness and compassion, reassurance and a genuine desire to bring calm to troubled waters. It certainly restored my faith in the system.

Original artwork by Bernard Allen, The Calming of the Storm

Spiritual Gifts

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Sermon preached on 19th January 2025 based on 1 Corinthians 12:1-11 and John 2:1-11

Receiving a gift can be very exciting. Maybe we only have to look back a few weeks to Christmas Day, or a Christmas Day from your childhood, and waking up to find all those presents under the tree. Wondering which ones might be yours.

When you opened them though, I wonder what your reaction was. The best ones drew amazement, that you’d received the very thing you’d wished for and had been thinking about since at least September!

Or maybe you were surprised and unsure about what the gift actually was or did, so you need time to think about it?

Or even opening it and immediately setting it aside, perhaps it would do as a donation for a raffle prize, or to a charity shop, but importantly to remember to say thank you to the person who gave it to you.

Now what if we were to do the same with the gifts that we receive from God through the Holy Spirit? Putting them to use straight away, setting them aside through fear and uncertainty or rejecting them all together.

Our passage today from Corinthians talks about us being pagans, people without God, easily led astray by worthless enticements and trickery. Like the magicians in the court of Pharoah we might have viewed our gospel reading concerning the turning of water into wine as a magic trick.

Until we realise that despite his reluctance to begin his ministry with a somewhat unusual miracle, Jesus was indeed ready to show us what gifts he possessed… and which his mother already knew about!

Perhaps also, the disciples, who had only just recently thrown everything over to follow this man were reassured that God was indeed with Jesus and that the Holy Spirit was a living gift to enable these things to happen and to reveal his glory in order to strengthen their belief in him.

What about ourselves then? Well, we know that God has known us since before we were in the womb, knitting us together to become the people we are. So, he would be very aware of the strength of our characters, and the abilities we have, even if we’re not quite aware of them always. He would know the inherent skills we display and the skills that lie in our sub-conscious, waiting to be activated.

Did you notice though that there is one gift of the Spirit that is given to everyone – the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. This underpins the Christian faith and is the thing that unites not only Christians with a desire to serve others, and to insist on the dignity of every individual, but also can be found in many other faiths and religions around the world. Perhaps showing God’s ultimate sovereignty because he has ultimately activated them in everyone.

Then we come to individual gifts, those wise men and women among us who know how to act for the best and guide us to do good. A gift subtly different from having great knowledge as viewers of University Challenge and Only Connect will verify.

Those people who encourage us in our faith and our own sense of belief, whether we are able to work miracles or to speak out about choices being made on our behalf? The skills to communicate and teach or to solve problems that will benefit everyone.

And within each of these gifts there are subtleties – the gift of the surgeon’s skill to save lives, equally as valuable as the hand held in the act of friendship and love that can comfort and offer healing.

All of these are produced through the gift of the Spirit and may be given to us as and when they are needed in our lives.

So how do we respond? It is with great joy and excitement and an inner confidence that this is who we are meant to be. Or with uncertainty, unsure how to use the gift that you’ve been presented with something that you don’t believe you have the skills or capacity to be able to deal with. Or even that you dismiss the gift, certain that it’s not meant for you because you already know what’s what?

 What it all boils down to is ‘do you believe this?’ Is God through the Holy Spirit able to discern for us the paths we should take through life and equip us with the necessary skills to do so?

This very question is being asked in this year’s Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. The exact question that Jesus asked Martha before bring Lazarus out of the tomb alive again. ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’ She said to him, ‘Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.’

Or our signature doubter, Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe”. Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”

Recognising our common belief and the fact that God, though the Holy Spirit has given each and every person a gift that can be used to bring us together, is a challenge as well as an invitation to deepen connection and belonging and to live faithfully as disciples of Christ.

Perhaps then as we shortly share our common belief in the words of the Creed, we will remember that it comes from the Latin word credo, meaning ‘I believe and trust’.

And try to remember, as St. Jerome once said, ‘never look a gift horse in the mouth’. Amen

Follow Me…

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Sermon preached on Remembrance Sunday 2024 based on Mark 1:14-20

Alfie Couzens was nineteen years old. He had been born within a couple of years of the ending of the Great War, the war to end all wars. Born, after his father, had marched back from France with the victorious troops to a hero’s welcome, but who had then quietly slipped back into the fishing community in the remote Scottish isles. Alfie was an only child for some six years before he was joined by two more brothers and a sister.

His father had been a sniper in the army and had faced some harrowing experiences that were never talked about, and his mother would often hush the children’s games of battles and combat, fought with stick guns and pinecone hand grenades if his father was at home.

Despite their remoteness on the island, the community was very much aware as they heard about the rise of Hitler in the 1930’s and knew what it implied.

So, in the summer of 1939, when Alfie got home one day, he asked his father directly, ‘Is there going to be a war?’ ‘Probably,’ his father replied. ‘And the sooner the better!’ There was no mistaking the horror on his mother’s face.

‘It’s true,’ his father continued. ‘Every extra day we give that madman, the more powerful he’ll become; and this damn government we’ve got, thinks it’ll buy him off with sweet and reasonable arguments. We’re always the same, hoping things will work out. We’re too used to winning, that’s our trouble; this time we might be in for a big surprise.’

It wasn’t long afterwards that Alfie received the call, and with a group of fellow islanders marched down to the jetty and sailed away, to become part of the 51st Highland Division, who were to see action at Dunkirk, the majority of whom would be taken prisoner.

Those who remained on the island did not delude themselves as to the probable goodwill that Hitler would have towards them, and yet those young men went to war; sacrificially for many, fatally for some. Their elder generation knew much about the hazards and horrors of the trenches, yet the young men joined up anyway and answered the call issued by their leaders to ‘follow me’ into the field of battle.

Going back in history, some two thousand years ago, and in a wholly different context, Jesus also issued a call, but this time to selected individuals, ‘Follow me’, and Peter, Andrew, James and John heard the call and heeded it, leaving all behind.

For them life would never be the same again, and they were indeed going into the unknown. They were people who had homes and livelihoods, a position in society. Who was to now meet the demand for fish or to pay the licence to fish the lake?

Where was the reassurance of the future that we all look for. We might ask how would this affect our lives or those of our children, our retirements and care in later life? Would we have been so willing to simply drop everything. Perhaps we would say there are too many unknowns.

The gospel does not provide a road map for this, yet Jesus asks that we follow him, to walk with him, in the same way he asked his disciples, and as he walks, he finds people where they are. ‘Follow me’ he says, ‘I will take what you know and transform it’.

Such walking demands a change of heart and commitment to self-giving love. The first disciples exchanged the familiar for an itinerant lifestyle. Most of us will be called to follow in the midst of our work, or family life. ‘Follow me’ is an fundamental requirement that challenges us at moments of decision and transition; it effects our material choices and our human interactions.

But equally we can place our trust in Jesus. We will make mistakes, misunderstand, and seek forgiveness. We are not simply re-enacting a back story, but instead we are being ourselves, bringing our own particular gifts to the work of compassion, reconciliation, and self-giving love.

Equally, as we place our trust in him, then no matter what the future holds for us, having given his life for us, he will never forsake or abandon or deny us. Yes, he may well lead us through the fields of Galilee, and into the waters of the River Jordan. He will undoubtedly take us across the Sea of Galilee and into the wildernesses of the Negev desert. He will lead us up the road from Jericho to Jerusalem and then along the Via Dolorosa until we come to our own personal Calvary.

But he will never fail us or forsake us; he will never let go of that hand which we place in his. We can trust Jesus with our lives, because knowing his story and living it changes us. We are called to share in a task, which for all its costliness brings hope.

Today on this Remembrance Sunday amongst other things we give thanks for the sacrifice of the millions who sacrificed their lives in two World Wars, and for those who are still caught up in war. For the men like Alfie and his father who answered a call to try and bring an end to hatred, greed and self-glorification and bring the world hope.

Sadly, the world is still in a state of flux but none the less without their sacrifice we would not be as we are now, living in freedom. The poppies that we shall soon set on the memorial, a memorial containing the names of those from this parish, are symbols of our thanks and tokens of our resolve to work for peace and to prevent any such need for sacrifice to be necessary again.

So may our prayers this morning, echo the words from a familiar hymn, ‘Make me a channel of your peace, where there is hatred let me bring your love, where there is despair in life let me bring hope and where there is doubt, true faith in you.’ Amen

Alfie Couzens is a fictional representation of the many who marched away to answer the call. His story is based on Findlay J Macdonald’s memoirs of his childhood in Harris in the Outer Hebrides called, Crowdie and Cream

Who Is My Mother, Who Is My Brother…?

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Sermon preached on Sunday 9th June 2024 – Trinity 2 – based on Mark 3:20 to end.

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Who is my mother? Well, if I was being asked to complete an official form to aid my family history I think I could answer that one correctly; Peggy Missin, born 12th September 1932 in Clenchwarton, Norfolk, died 8th February 2018. Who is my brother? Well, again that’s quite easy – no one, I was an only child.

Of course this wasn’t the answer that Jesus was looking for in today’s gospel. Indeed it wasn’t even the question, which was – Who are my mother and my brothers?

We are only three chapters into Mark’s gospel, which unlike Matthew, doesn’t start with a sixteen verse genealogical list of Jesus’ lineage. No, Mark starts simply with the lead up to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.

From the other gospel’s we can piece together some ‘facts’ about Jesus’ early life. According to Luke, Jesus was born in Bethlehem, he was presented in the Temple as a baby and recognised by Simeon as the Messiah, but soon afterwards was taken into Egypt as a refugee from the genocide ordered by King Herod. When this danger had passed he returned with his family, not to Bethlehem, but his familial home town of Nazareth, about ninety miles to the north, where he grew up without much incident that we know of, apart from his theological debating skills at the age of twelve with the elders in Jerusalem on a Passover visit.

In Jesus’ day, Nazareth had a population of about a hundred and fifty, most of whom were interrelated. The Nazarites, were a small sect of Jews who believed they were the shoot – the “Netzer” – from the stump of Jesse, from whom according to Isaiah, the promised Messiah would come.  However, the negative references to Nazareth in the Gospel of John suggest that ancient Jews did not connect the town’s name to prophecy. They followed the teachings of Rabbi Shammai and were strictly orthodox and ultra-conservative.  They had as little to do with the outside world as possible, much like Hasidic Jews today.

Some thirty years later and further south, in the wilderness of Judea, a relative of Jesus appeared, namely John, who was preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, with a view that the arrival of the Messiah was imminent, a prophecy fulfilled when Jesus presented himself for John’s baptism.

After John the Baptist was taken into custody by the authorities and imprisoned, Jesus now steps forward and announces his ministry, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’

His speech in the synagogue at Nazareth creates an uproar.  ‘“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.”

He then goes on to prophecy about God’s judgment upon Israel.  It was not what the elders wanted to hear.  They dragged him out of the synagogue, took him out to the edge of town and were prepared to stone him to death. But for some reason, they stopped short.  Jesus walked away and never looked back.  He left his home and his family and moved to the nearby city of Capernaum on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee.

Things were different there. The synagogue was more open to his teaching, ‘They were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as having authority, and not as the scribes.’

He won the loyalty of four local fishermen – Peter, Andrew, James and John; the local tax collector, Levi or Matthew; as well as seven more disciples and any number of followers.  As important as his teaching, he also had the power to heal the sick and perform all sorts of miracles.  People flocked to Capernaum to hear him teach and receive his healing touch.

But with rising popularity came criticism.  His teaching was unlike anything they’d ever heard before.  He broke the laws of ritual cleanliness, he violated the Sabbath, he spoke openly of a kingdom not of this world, he communicated directly and intimately with God.

His behaviour and his speech was so radical that they looked to label it as anti-social linking it to perceived mental health issues. He wasn’t conforming to the status quo. In a word, he didn’t fit the mode.  When it became clear that he had no intention of conforming to the expectations of the religious leaders, they began to say, ‘He is insane’

Apart from clinical diagnosis, people’s perception of mental health draws a thin line between sanity and insanity, and when it appeared, even to his friends, that he’d gone over the edge, they sent word to Nazareth for his family to come at once. So, it fell to his mother and his brothers to come to Capernaum and take him home.

When they got there, they found Jesus teaching in a home.  The place was packed.  People were standing in the doorway and spilling out into the courtyard straining to hear him.  Mary and her sons couldn’t get in, so they sent word, “Tell the teacher that his mother and brothers are outside.”  But when Jesus got the message, he said, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” 

And looking at those who sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’

When Mary and the others were told what he’d said, what were they to do. On the surface it seems like a harsh thing to say. Was Jesus now rejecting his family altogether? The fact is, he wasn’t saying, ‘these people are not my mother and brothers, he wasn’t denying the relationship he had with his biological family; he merely expanded the conception of the family circle to include any number of others.  He pointed to a spiritual, rather than a physical, kinship as the basis for life in the kingdom of God. 

The Spirit of God unites us as family in a bond of love able to withstand the storms of life and last throughout all eternity.  It transcends the boundaries of age, race, nationality and gender.  It encompasses people from every station and walk of life.

Whilst we are children of our parents, we are also children of God, and, as we grow in our relationship to God, we’re called to seek God’s will for our lives and follow the leading of God’s Spirit, even when it means overriding the connections to our families.

It can be hard to break away from the authority of our parents, just as it’s hard, as parents, to cut the apron strings with our children. However, Jesus clearly defined the boundaries of parenthood when he asked the question, “Who are my mother and my brothers?”  There could be no mistake about it, his relationship to God came first and foremost, and so must ours.

The Good News is that Jesus’ relationship with his family did not end here; it moved to a new level.  Mary became one of Jesus’ most devout followers.  She stayed by his side, if at a distance, to the very foot of the Cross.  And his brother, James, while hardly mentioned in the gospels, shows up in the Book of Acts as the leader of the church in Jerusalem.

‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’ Take a look around you, we so often talk about our church family. These people who are sitting around you are our brothers and sisters in Christ.

Just like in every extended family, we may not know them that well, we may move in different social circles, we may hold different views and opinions and not agree with them all the time; but we are bound together in our love of God and Jesus’ command to love one another.

And the family ties don’t stop here in this building. Our fellow Christians are in the next town, the next city, in fact our family extends right around the world, wherever God’s name is proclaimed and honoured.

And the best thing we can do for this family is to grow it. I paid a visit to The Vyne, yesterday with my family. This beautiful house and estate was passed to the National Trust because the family lineage ran out with no more heirs to pass it on to. We can’t let this happen to our Christian family.

This afternoon I will baptise two young children, who are beginning their journey of faith, they will receive the sign of the cross on their foreheads, with the words, ‘Christ claims you for his own’ and an exhortation to ‘not be ashamed of Christ. You are his forever’

Today, two more young people being added to the family. What will you do to extend our family further…?

The Spirit of the Lord is on you, because he has anointed you to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent you to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.

Amen.