Learning Humility
Learning Humility
by Adam Thomas
Our last couple of sermons have been about big topics, about how the life of faith compels us to confront injustice, violence, and falsehood. Today, I’m going to change gears and tell you a personal story. The story is about me embracing humility – not as a matter of course, but as a last resort. I’m sharing this story today for three reasons. First, the end of the Gospel reading about exalting and humbling one’s self got me thinking about true humility. Second, today is the two-year anniversary of the climactic moment of the story, so it seems like a good day to share it. And third, talking about mental health openly is the way to destigmatize it, especially for people like me, who think we can just muscle our way through mental health issues.
New Covenant
by Adam Thomas
This week we reflect on God’s promise through the Prophet Jeremiah of a new covenant—one not written on tablets of stone, but on our very hearts. Jeremiah spoke these words during Israel’s darkest hour, when exile and despair seemed certain. Yet even then, God promised renewal, a deeper intimacy than ever before. This sermon traces how this covenant unfolds through Scripture—from Abraham’s promise, to Moses’ law, to Jeremiah’s vision—and how it comes to fullness in Jesus Christ, God drawing near to dwell among us. The new covenant is not about rule-keeping but heart-living: allowing God’s presence to transform who we are from the inside out.
The Fabric of Faith
The Fabric of Faith
This week, we reflect on how God weaves our individual stories into a beautiful tapestry of faith and community. Sharing a bit of my own journey — times when I tried to keep my heart safe behind walls, and how love still found a way in, mending what was broken like the Japanese art of kintsugi.
We’ll also look at Lois and Eunice, the women who passed their faith on to Timothy, and how their story reminds us that faith is something we receive and pass along. Encouraging us all to remember those who nurtured our faith and to keep weaving ourselves into the fabric of God’s love — a community where healing, grace, and connection are at the heart of who we are.
The Field at Anathoth
The Field at Anathoth
When the world feels like it’s unraveling, Jeremiah shows us that hope is not wishful thinking but a practice—something we do. Even as Babylon laid siege to Jerusalem, he bought a field and sealed the deed as a sign that life would one day flourish again. His act of hope reminds us that God’s presence endures in the darkest times, and that what looks like an ending is never the final word. In our own divided and uncertain days, we too are called to practice hope—whether by acts of justice, small kindnesses, creative endeavors, or simply sharing wisdom with the next generation. Each hopeful act is like a candle lit in the night, testifying to the dawn that surely comes.
I am Ashamed to Beg
I am Ashamed to Beg
This week’s Gospel about the dishonest manager led me to wrestle with the words, “I am ashamed to beg.” Why, I wondered, should begging be shameful? The truth is, our culture has taught us not just that begging is shameful, but that poverty itself is a moral failing. Yet poverty, in most cases, is not the result of personal shortcomings but of broken systems—wages that don’t cover basic needs, policies that leave people vulnerable, and a society that shifts blame from structures to individuals. The shame, then, isn’t in begging—it’s in our collective failure to ensure no one has to. As followers of Jesus, we’re called to respond not only with charity, meeting immediate needs, but with justice, reshaping the systems that keep people in poverty. My prayer is that we find the courage to confront these cultural stigmas, extend both compassion and advocacy, and work toward a world where no one needs to beg.
Sin & Salvation
Sin & Salvation
In Luke 15, the Pharisees criticize Jesus for keeping company with the wrong people: “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” What they meant as an insult perfectly describes Jesus’ mission, because he came to welcome sinners—and that includes all of us. Sin, as the Book of Common Prayer defines it, is the distortion of our relationships with God, one another, and creation, bending life-giving bonds into something harmful. But sin is not the end of the story. Salvation is. Too often, salvation is framed as being “saved from”—from sin, punishment, or hell. But the more powerful truth is that Jesus saves us for something: for God’s mission, for transformation, for lives marked by grace, hope, and love. Paul himself saw his salvation not just as rescue, but as a call to become an example of God’s mercy. So the real question isn’t just what you’ve been saved from, but what you’ve been saved for. When you come to the table with empty hands stretched out for bread and wine, remember that Jesus welcomes you—and listen for how God might be calling you to live out your salvation in the world.
My Precious
This week’s Gospel challenges us with Jesus’ striking words about “hating” even those closest to us — but at its heart, this passage isn’t about hatred at all. It’s about letting go of possessiveness, our tendency to cling to people, things, and control as if they were truly ours. Using Gollum’s obsession with the One Ring as a metaphor, we’re reminded how the word “my” can trap us — “my children,” “my plans,” “my precious.” Jesus calls us to release this grip, to trust God more deeply, and to nurture rather than control the relationships in our lives. True discipleship means surrendering our need to possess and embracing faith that God holds all of us — and those we love — securely in divine hands.
Learning to Sing
Today we are going to talk about inadequacy. Specifically we are going to talk about how God calls people, not in spite of, but because of their inadequacies. This pattern holds throughout Holy Scripture, but we’ll get into that later. First, a personal story.
Practicing God’s Presence
Practicing God’s Presence
This week’s sermon explores the nature of faith, inspired by the Letter to the Hebrews, which tells us that “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Faith, at its heart, is about learning to notice the presence of God beneath the surface of everyday life—a presence that is constant, foundational, and sustaining. But recognizing this deeper reality takes practice. Just as athletes and musicians hone their skills with consistent discipline, we are invited to practice our faith by cultivating spiritual habits that help us see and embody God’s presence in the world..
The Good Samaritan
The Good Samaritan
This week’s Gospel brings us the parable of the Good Samaritan—Jesus’ bold, boundary-breaking response to the question, “Who is my neighbor?” Instead of giving a definition, Jesus tells a story where the expected heroes pass by, and the “othered” Samaritan becomes the one who shows compassion.
The Samaritan crosses both personal and societal divides, risking himself to care for someone his world told him to ignore. His compassion reveals a deeper truth: there is no such thing as the “other.” We are all beloved, woven together in God’s great tapestry.
This week, listen for how God might be calling you to embrace “dangerous unselfishness,” to love beyond your usual circles, and to challenge the lie that some lives matter less than others.
The Time That is Given Us
The Time That is Given Us
In a world weighed down by conflict, injustice, and deep fatigue, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed—to want to retreat and let the chaos play out without us. But Paul’s words to the Galatians cut through that weariness: “Let us not grow weary in doing what is right.” This week’s reflection names the exhaustion many of us carry, while reminding us that faith doesn’t ask us to ignore it—it asks us to keep going anyway. We don’t have to pretend the world isn’t hard; we just have to decide, day by day, what to do with the time we’ve been given.
Drawing on wisdom from Scripture and the quiet courage of Tolkien’s characters, we’re reminded that even in the darkest moments, goodness still glimmers. The shadow is not the end of the story. Together, in community and in faith, we press on—not because it’s easy, but because we believe that love, justice, and beauty are still worth the effort. There is good in this world—and it’s worth fighting for.
The Flow of God’s Love
The Flow of God’s Love
Jesus’ call to “love your neighbor as yourself” isn’t just a rule to follow—it’s a way of life, a constant flow of grace in action. Whether it’s doctors jumping in to help someone in need, or simply taking time to notice the needs of those around us, this kind of love shows up both in big moments and in quiet, everyday ways.
But to truly love our neighbors, we must first learn to love ourselves with grace and compassion. This isn’t selfishness or narcissism—it’s the kind of self-love rooted in the eternal love of God. From that source, love becomes a river, not a lake. It moves through us, sustaining us and reaching out to others, even those we might consider enemies.
This week, reflect on where that river of love might be getting blocked in your life. Are you struggling to love yourself, those nearby, those far away, or even those who oppose you? Ask God to help you become a channel of love and mercy—because to love your neighbor is to live in the flowing rhythm of God’s own heart.
Catharsis
As we enter the long stretch of Ordinary Time — what Godly Play beautifully calls the “green and growing Sundays” — we’re invited into a quieter, deeper rhythm of renewal. In a world marked by division, violence, and uncertainty, it’s tempting to retreat into isolation. But instead of withdrawing, we are called to the spiritual discipline of the deep, cleansing breath — a catharsis that renews without disconnecting.
This week, we reflect on the Gospel story of Jesus casting out the unclean spirit known as Legion — an act of true catharsis, a purging of torment and restoration of peace. Elijah, too, finds his catharsis not in thunderous signs but in sheer silence — a quiet so full it reveals God’s voice and purpose anew.
As we grow through this season, consider: what kind of catharsis do you need to stay rooted in love and engaged in healing? Whether it’s a breath, a prayer, or a break from the noise, may you find strength, not just solace, at Christ’s table — where renewal, not retreat, is our true sustenance.
God and Not-God (Updated)
Nine years ago on Trinity Sunday, I preached a sermon called “God and Not-God: A Short History.” This year, I return to that story—the story of a God who is eternal, perfect, and love itself, and of Not-God, the fragile, impermanent world we inhabit. From Abraham’s trust to Moses’ awe, from the commandments on the mountain to the Word made flesh in Jesus Christ, God has been drawing us away from idols and back into relationship. And in the great mystery of the Holy Trinity—Parent, Child, and Spirit—we glimpse the perfect love that holds all things together and invites us in. Though we live in Not-God, our being rests in God, who empowers us to love, to resist sin, and to join the eternal flow of divine love.
Nine Pieces of the Spirit
On Pentecost, we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit—and the many ways the Spirit continues to move among us. In this special sermon, we explore nine distinct ways we encounter the Spirit: as wind, breath, peace, fire, spark, truth, companion, advocate, and connector. Accompanied by a stunning stained glass sculpture by Alison Ives, each element is both a visual and spiritual reminder of the Spirit’s presence. This interactive reflection invites us to recognize and deepen our relationship with the Holy Spirit in our daily lives.
What Other Option Do I Have
This week, we’re picking up where last Sunday left off—moving from embracing new life to understanding why we so often resist it. We explore the concept of negligent inertia—the tendency to stick with what’s “just fine” until it quietly turns into “what other option do I have?” Whether it’s doomscrolling, addictive behaviors, or global issues like climate inaction, we all fall into patterns that drain us. But Jesus steps into our stuck places with a simple, life-giving command: “Get up.” In obeying, we rediscover movement, renewal, and the abundant life we were made for.
All Things New
In this week's sermon, we explore the mystery and hope of newness—not as something entirely separate from the past, but as something deeply rooted in it. Drawing from Revelation and the ancient thought experiment known as the Ship of Theseus, we reflect on how change and continuity coexist in our bodies, minds, and spirits. With insights from Scripture, science, and personal journey, we are invited into a deeper understanding of spiritual renewal: not a one-time transformation, but an ongoing process of becoming. As God continually makes all things new, we too are called to embrace change—knowing that the eternal Christ walks with us every step of the way.
Fearing Death
On a spring morning full of new life, we reflect on the one thing we all face, death. While we can't know exactly what comes after, we hold onto hope in the resurrection and the promise of Christ.
This sermon explores four reasons we fear death: the unknown, unfinished lives, the pain we leave behind, and, most deeply, fear of punishment. But Scripture tells a different story. The gates of heaven are never shut. God's love isn’t a reward for perfection, it’s a reality we live in now and forever.
With Psalm 23 as our guide, we remember that even in the valley of the shadow of death, the Shepherd is with us—leading us home.