sermon

No one in this world is an orphan: the Triune God’s love includes the whole world, all people, all things, and the Spirit of God is moving and breathing in all, for life and wholeness.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixth Sunday of Easter, year A
Texts: Acts 17:22-31; 1 Peter 3:13-22; John 14:15-21 (also John 3, John 12, and Romans 8)

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

You are not alone in this world, no matter how frightening or lonely it feels.

That’s Jesus’ promise. The women and men who followed Jesus experienced God’s presence, God’s love, God’s teaching, God’s touch, God’s blessing with Jesus constantly.

And now, as he prepares them for his leaving, he says, “I won’t leave you orphaned. I will ask the Father, who will give you another Advocate, the Spirit of truth, to be with you forever.”

That’s your promise, too. And as Paul told his Romans, your Advocate the Spirit lives in your heart and joins your heart to God’s heart. Even praying for you when you can’t.

God’s Spirit abides with you, Jesus says, and will be in you. Forever.

But is Jesus excluding some from this gift?

He says something troubling amidst this promise of a divine Advocate, that “the world” can’t receive the Spirit of God, because “the world” neither sees her nor knows her.

But this is the same “world,” “cosmos,” that Jesus declared in John 3 was so profoundly loved by God that God came in the person of the Son, not to judge but to save, to heal. To bring all back to God.

Is Jesus changing that promise now? Does he not envision the gift of God’s Spirit to all God’s children in this “world” God loves so much? Are some to be left out?

And if the presence of the Spirit depends on whether you know or see the Spirit, can even you and I trust the promise?

See, that’s the problem, isn’t it?

On any given day you, or I, might not experience the Spirit, know or see the Spirit. Moments, times, even, when we aren’t sure God’s Spirit is with us. When we don’t feel the fire of God’s love and grace within. If Jesus is saying you only get God’s Spirit when you can see and know the Spirit, it’s not a promise of forever presence. It’s limited by your own challenges of faith. If having God’s Spirit depends on my perception of God with me, on the strength of my faith in any particular moment, then I have no chance. I don’t have that constancy.

But given everything else Jesus teaches and lives in the Gospels, the idea that some are just not given God’s Spirit makes no sense. “God so loved the ‘world,’ ” Jesus said. “When I am lifted up on the cross I will draw all people, all things to myself,” Jesus said.

And thank goodness Paul was listening.

Luke’s story of Paul in Athens is a ray of grace to every child of God on earth.

Paul’s doing the tourist thing, wandering through this cosmopolitan, pan-religious city and admiring what he sees. Including all the temples and altars to all the various divinities the Athenians worshipped. Including an altar to “an unknown god.”

So when he speaks to them he mentions their many altars and praises them for being so religious. Then he talks of this unknown god, who is the God of the universe Paul knows and proclaims, who came in Christ Jesus, taught, lived, loved, died, and rose from the dead.

But then Paul quotes from two of their Greek philosophers, one of whom said, “in God we live and move and have our being,” and another who said, “we are the offspring of God.”

And Paul says, exactly. This God whose love is known in Christ is the same God at the beginning of all time, who made the ancestors of everyone on this world. Who is the God of all. There are no orphans, anywhere. All are children of this unknown God, who is now made known in Christ Jesus.

And, Paul says, this God hopes that everyone finds God somehow, even if they have to “fumble about” to do it. But whether or not they find God, everyone belongs in God’s love.

So basically Paul says that Jesus was right in John 3 and John 12, and Jesus means it: the Triune God’s love is for the whole “world,” all God’s children.

Full stop. No exclusions.

And Jesus also is clear, by the way, that just because on any given day you can’t know or see the Spirit, it doesn’t mean the Spirit isn’t there. In John 3 he told Nicodemus that the Spirit is like the wind. You can’t see wind but you can see where it’s been. So you can see the Spirit by signs of where she’s been. But think of wind: it’s just air. And sometimes you can’t feel a single breeze. But you are still breathing that air.

So for you, and for all, this is the promise: no one is left orphaned by God. God’s love and God’s Spirit are for all and in all, forever.

And Christ would love for you and me to imitate Paul.

It’s what Peter’s talking about today, too. He says, “Always be ready to make a defense of your trust in God when someone asks you about your faith, but do it with gentleness and respect.” Paul couldn’t have been more respectful and gentle with the Athenians. He didn’t harangue them as pagans who didn’t know anything. He praised their faith, their religiousness, and he noticed something in their faith that gave him a way into a conversation about his trust in Christ for life.

That’s your call. To live in such a way, in the first place, that some other person might actually notice your love and grace and your trust in God and ask you “what’s that all about?”

And then to gently, respectfully, listen to them. Notice them. And find a way to share what you know about God’s love for them and for the world.

You are not alone in this world, no matter how frightening or lonely it feels.

No one is. There are no orphans in God’s love. No people you can safely put outside God’s care. No enemies you can confidently trust are not in God’s embracing, loving arms.

So go from here confident that God’s Spirit is yours and is always with you. Even when, especially when, you can’t see or know her. When the air doesn’t seem to be moving.

And then find a way to let others know they’re not alone, either. Then you’ll be the blessing God has always known you could be for the healing of this world.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Christ offers you abundant life, found in following him into the world and being transformed in the care of your Shepherd.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourth Sunday of Easter, year A
Texts: John 10:1-10; Psalm 23; 1 Peter 2:19-25

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

The thing is, you can’t stay in the sheepfold and live.

The idea of Jesus as the Good Shepherd who came to provide abundant life for those who trust in him, and also as the Gate who keeps the sheepfold safe, is a wonderful one. Like our Emmaus story last week, it promises a warm place inside the fold of our Shepherd, where we are cared for and loved. Where we meet God. Like in this room.

And it sounds pretty abundant just to stay in the room with Jesus. But that’s not where abundant life is lived. Last week, the Emmaus couple couldn’t stay in their little home where they met Jesus in the breaking of the bread. They needed to go out, back on the road. To witness to the others, to the world, what they’d experienced and seen in the risen Christ.

And we sang today that our Good Shepherd leads us out on right paths, to still waters and green pastures. Even though sometimes those paths lead through the valleys of the shadow of death, and in the presence of enemies. But it’s only out there that there is food and water and life for the sheep.

This image of a protected sheepfold sounds awfully familiar.

It sounds a lot like the locked upper room in which the disciples placed themselves Easter week.

But Christ met them inside their locked room, and met them at the Emmaus dinner table, and led them all out into new life. As the Shepherd calls the sheep out to pasture. They couldn’t stay locked away, because true, abundant life for them was only found out there. Stay inside, and you eventually starve to death.

And where they found life, so will we.

But if you and I stay locked up, closed in the sheepfold so we’re safe, how can we follow Christ in this world and find abundant life?

If we’ve locked away any possibility of Christ calling us to a new way of being, how can we begin to think about loving our family or our neighbors in the community or in the world?

If it’s off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to change how we react to people, how we treat others, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?

If it’s off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to give up getting our own way, to ask us to let it go when others seem to disregard us, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?

If it’s off limits, locked away, for God to ask us to understand faith as a calling to love, not a possession that keeps us safe, how can we become like Jesus, how can we follow?

And if we can’t follow, we can’t find abundant life.

Abundant life is when you and I follow Christ out of the sheepfold to be blessed and to be a blessing.

Because living in the servant love of God in Christ for you, such a rich, abundant blessing, only expands and deepens when you share that servant love with others.

When you bear the love of Christ in your life, in your neighborhood, you are blessed in turn. When you are transformed as Christ in a world of pain and oppression and fear, you are blessed while you make a difference and bless others. Whatever life is out there is only abundant when it’s shared, when all are safe, and fed, and clothed, and loved, and blessed.

And you can’t do this, I can’t do this, if we stay locked inside the sheepfold where we think it’s safe.

The good news is, the risen Christ is really good with locked doors.

As much as we think we’ve locked away all our problems and the things we don’t want to change, Christ is already there inside your locked doors, wanting to give you peace. Wanting to fill you with the Spirit. The One who is the Gate can open all locks and call you out of the sheepfold into abundant life.

But your Shepherd will also not force you out, force you to be Christ, force you to follow. Your Shepherd would rather you hear his voice and follow willingly.

There’s a lot that seems unsafe in all of this, and frightening.

Peter today says that suffering for doing good is often the result of following Christ, because Christ also suffered for loving others. We know Christ’s path is a challenging one.

But you are loved by the God who made all things and who cares for you as a shepherd, who is known to you in your Good Shepherd, your risen Savior.

Your Shepherd is standing outside the door, calling to you, to me, and asking us to follow. Don’t be afraid, because even though this path will lead to loss and change and through frightening places, even in your own heart, you are walking with and behind your Shepherd, who faced all such pain and suffering already and is risen. Who will keep you safe: from your enemies – both those inside of you and outside of you – and safe even in valleys of shadow and death. Who will transform death into life and enemies into beloved family.

Listen: your Shepherd is calling. Offering abundant life. Opening the door to go out from here as Christ’s love in the world. Follow, and find that life. Be that life for others. And rejoice in your Shepherd’s abundance.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

There is no sacred place or secular space: the Triune God is here, with you, in every breath of your life, so keep your eyes open and your heart ready.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday of Easter, year A
Text: Luke 24:13-35

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

The disciples knew Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

This moment in a little house in Emmaus is so moving to us, so true to our experience and the experience of the Church for millennia, those words are a beloved phrase in our grammar of faith.

This couple, after walking a few hours from Jerusalem with a stranger who engaged them in conversation, invited him into their home. Certainly to stay the night, but of course they first offered him a meal.

And when he, as guest, broke the bread, their eyes were opened, and they recognized Jesus.

And as we gather at Jesus’ Table again today, we live in anticipation and hope of this truth happening again, one we’ve experienced over and over. We will know Jesus in the breaking of the bread.

But here’s the great wonder: they already had known Jesus that day.

When he vanished, they realized it clearly. “Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the Scriptures to us?”

Their eyes might have been closed on the road. But their hearts weren’t. Their hearts knew Jesus was walking with them those seven miles. Encouraging them, listening to their grief and pain. Opening their hearts and minds to God’s Word and how it was hope for them in this strange and confusing day.

It wasn’t in the quiet of an evening dinner table that they really needed Jesus. They needed Jesus in the tiring trudge of a walk in the dust and stones. In the fear and trauma they felt losing their beloved Teacher in such a horrible way. In the fear and possible hope they felt hearing what some of their fellow women disciples said they’d seen and experienced that morning. And the risen Christ was there in all that.

I’ll never forget the faith I saw in a Bedouin from the Middle East.

This was 30 years ago, in a documentary about the life of these wandering nomads who live much as their ancestors lived for centuries and centuries before.

The interviewer asked this man how his faith in Allah helped him with his daily life, dealing with all the challenges. Basically how he applied his faith to his secular life.

The man looked utterly confused, not knowing what the questioner meant. He said, “There is no place in my life where Allah is not.” He spoke of his entire life lived in God’s presence, every moment, every trial, every joy.

I remember as if it were yesterday that I thought, “I want to have faith like this man.” Not that I wanted to become Muslim. What I wanted was to live with the same awareness of God’s presence in every moment, every trial, every joy of my life. And along with a couple other Spirit-given insights in those days, that began my now deeply rooted conviction that there is no such thing as sacred and secular. If God exists, then all the world is imbued with God, all things live in the life of God, all life is breathed in God’s breath. The Triune God is always on the road with us as much as at this Table in this place.

But our life is kind of a reverse of this Emmaus story.

We start here, in this place. You people have taught me from the first day I came among you as your pastor that here, in this place, you expect to meet God, and you do meet God. You experience this room, this worship, as holy ground. That’s really the secret to why worship here is such a blessing. You gather here fully expecting to be with God, to listen to God, to pray to God, to praise and lament in song with and to God, to see God in each other. Mystery, silence, ambiguity, confusion, none are frightening because you know the Triune God will be here in all of that. With you. With me.

There’s never a sense of indifference or nonchalance of the people of God in worship here. The Triune God meets you here and it’s always a matter of life and death to you. I am deeply grateful for you showing me this and sharing this with me.

So here is our Emmaus table. Except we already know who it is who breaks bread with us, guides us, encourages us, challenges us, leads us in this place.

And that means we already know who it is who is burning in our hearts when we leave here.

That’s the great wonder of our life of faith.

We meet the risen Christ here so we can recognize the risen Christ on the road. We are fed and taught and loved by Christ here so we can open our eyes and recognize Christ’s presence in every moment, every trial, every joy out there, in our lives, in the world. Where all ground is holy ground.

And look what you and I get out there, on the road. A God who opens up God’s will and grace through Scripture to us on our journey, carefully explaining, gently guiding, sometimes shocking and challenging. Jesus didn’t just walk with this couple. He taught them, helped them see God’s grace in a new and beautiful way. And so Christ does the same to you, if you listen and pay attention on your road.

And Jesus also listened to them. He noticed where they were emotionally – sad, traumatized, confused – and met them there. He shared their pain and the beginnings of hope that they were feeling. And so as Christ walks with you on your road, Christ likewise meets you where you are, pays attention to what you’re feeling, listens, cares, blesses.

And best is, you don’t need to do anything to get this.

This couple was going to have their painful, confused conversations as they walked back home, no matter what. It was the risen Christ who chose to show up with them and bless them.

And so it is with you. You’re going to live your life, walk your road, experience all you experience, no matter what. But the risen Christ chooses to show up with you and bless you.

So consider how you might respond. This couple listened on the road, probably asked a lot of questions, too. And then, hearts afire and blessed by this new friend, they invited him into their home.

There’s another phrase in our grammar of faith that’s beloved to us, isn’t there? “Stay with us, Lord, for it is evening, and the day is almost over.” That’s all you need to do. Be ready for Christ to join you not just here in this room but everywhere you go. And invite him to stay with you, in the night of this world and in the days you also have been given.

And be ready for open eyes and burning hearts. Be ready to sent out yourself as God’s presence in this broken and frightening world. It’s going to be amazing.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Because Jesus has been raised, we have been given a living hope. Knowing Jesus leads us to live out that hope in the rest of our lives.

Vicar Erik C. Nelson
April 12, 2026
Texts: Acts 2:14, 22-32; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

This morning, in about 20 pulpits across the Twin Cities, there are college students who are getting up to preach. Most of them for the first time, some of them for only the second or third time.

These are students from the Lutheran Campus Ministry at the University of Minnesota who have been sent out for one of their annual traditions, where the students get to go out and preach and connect with the congregations that support the campus ministry.

When I was an intern serving with that ministry, I loved to go back and watch the live streams of my students talking about the difference that the campus ministry made in their lives. Over and over, I would hear stories about how they knew that Jesus is alive because they saw him in the lives of their friends and classmates.

They carry a living hope with them because of their own encounter with Christ and his people.

With this in mind, I have even more sympathy for Thomas in today’s Gospel reading. People have made a big deal about doubting Thomas and whatever else they want to read in this, but I think it kind of makes sense for him to be skeptical of the claims that he’s hearing from his friends for many reasons, but especially because of their actions.

As much as they might be afraid of the authorities, if they really saw Jesus in the flesh among them, risen from the dead, then they would have this real proof that the impossible is possible with God.

And you’d think this would mean that they wouldn’t have to stay hiding. They would be able to leave the building and love their neighbors boldly.

But instead, when Thomas comes back, he finds the doors still locked. He finds them still hiding in fear. He finds them living like their encounter with Jesus didn’t make a difference.

Their words said that Jesus was alive … their actions said they still had to hide. Their actions didn’t match their beliefs.

When the world looks at the church, do they see our actions matching our beliefs? When they see our behavior and listen to us speak, do they have any reason to believe what we say?

It would be easy to point to other branches of the Christian family and talk about their issues. We all know about that. But we have to get the log out of our own eyes first.

As I’m looking ahead to the end of my internship, working pages and pages of paperwork and thinking about upcoming interviews in the first call process, I’ve been thinking a lot about the ways that our own church, the ELCA and other mainline denominations, isn’t practicing what we preach.

This season of Easter is supposed to be all about resurrection, new life, the promises that God offers us.

But how often do we get wrapped up in conversations about decline and decay. How often do we get stuck in a mindset of hopelessness and despair, or even worse, apathy about these things. How often do we look only at death, forgetting we serve the Lord of Life?

I’ve spent my whole life hearing about the death of Christianity … but in my own experience, I haven’t seen it. Instead, I’ve seen lives changed. I’ve experienced the new life that comes with God’s presence. I feel the living hope, the trust that God is really with us, even in the darkest days.

I trust that God is active … God gives us a living hope and will provide for us. Decline is not inevitable. When I started at LCM, we had about 30 students worshipping with us on Wednesday nights. By the end of my time there, it was up close to a hundred.

Students encountered the risen Christ in the sacramental life of that community, in Bible studies, and in the love that they showed to one another. As people saw that living hope in action, more and more young people were drawn in.

And this isn’t about numerical growth. It’s about inviting people into our living hope.

The world is hungry for a living hope … Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, meets us here in the breaking of bread and the communion of the saints. The church is the only institution that offers that.

Yes, Christianity’s place in society is changing … but maybe the death of a transactional cultural Christianity means life for a deeper, more sincere form of our faith.

A faith this is not about who you are or what you know, but instead about what you are and who you know. You are a child of God. You are know and loved deeply by God.

Those who know God have been given that living hope and now we’re invited to live like it makes a difference.

We can stay inside, afraid of the world, stuck in anxious patterns of self-protection and self-preservation … or we can start putting ourselves out there.

We can earnestly, openly, unabashedly say, “I love Jesus, and Jesus loves you.” Because our neighbors are hearing a lot about Jesus, a lot of it bad.

But for us, who know him, who know his love and care for us, who know his embrace is wide enough for the whole world, who know that God loves everyone, no exceptions, it’s for us to tell the world about our living hope.

This is a living hope that our reading from 1 Peter says is imperishable, undefiled, unfading, kept in heaven for us … an eternal hope for all time. And also something we are receiving now. The salvation of our souls.

This living hope isn’t only something to look for at the end of days. It’s not merely a hope of heaven or a spiritual revelation. It’s a hope that is alive now, with us today, to make a difference in the world now and forever.

May it be so.

—

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

You’re afraid, we all are, but the women show us we can bravely share our lives – still afraid, but filled with joy in God’s risen life in us.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Resurrection of Our Lord, year A
Text: Matthew 28:1-10

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

They were so scared, they looked dead.

These tough guards at the tomb, armor-clad, carrying weapons, were terrified. They shook and fell to the ground. Like dead men.

Give the benefit of the doubt. Earthquakes are scary. And an angel of God showed up in the middle of it. That dropped them like trees. This being from heaven sits on the stone that used to cover the tomb. The tomb they were supposed to be guarding instead of being frozen, curled up on the ground, like dead men.

We know something about being frozen in fear.

These times are so overwhelming, and not just because we had a couple months of violent federal occupation of our cities, our homes, our schools, that’s lessened visually but still is ongoing. It’s the disastrous war in the Middle East, the relentless assault on the lives of vulnerable people, the fear of wondering which of our democratic processes and systems and even allies will remain after a couple more years of this.

We’re not frozen by fear of seeing an angel or an earthquake. We’re frozen by fear of what we can’t control, things that overwhelm and threaten. Sometimes in our immobility we might even look dead.

But something else freezes us, too.

We’ve just walked with Jesus through these Three Days and have seen him demonstrate with his own body and blood what the path of God’s love, will mean. It means sacrificing ourselves in love for others. Even Jesus struggled with this when he prayed in Gethsemane.

There’s a reason so many Christians in every generation reduce the faith to simply believing the right things, having correct theology. It’s fear of the alternative: that Jesus meant Christian faith to be a life fully engaged in costly relationships of love, vulnerability, and self-giving, with God and with neighbor.

We might have to face our own prejudice and privilege and lose some comfort to follow Christ. We might have to dare to allow ourselves to live on less so others can live. We might have to have our dearest opinions and convictions and biases challenged and broken open. We might have to risk being hurt.

It’s much easier to act as if faith is thinking things right, and not being someone new. When we do this, we look dead.

But there were others experiencing that earthquake, seeing that angel.

There were some women there. Disciples, followers of Jesus. Unlike the other disciples, they came out of hiding to go to the tomb and be near Jesus’ body, early. Before dawn.

And they’re terrified, too. But they don’t fall to the ground like they’re dead. They keep their eyes open. They stay standing.

And so they hear this frightening angel tell them news they never could have hoped to hear: Jesus is alive. And the angel sends them out to tell the others.

They keep their eyes open still. They start walking. And they meet Jesus on the way! They get to hold him. Love him.

These women were just as afraid as the guards, just as afraid as you and I can be. But they held it together long enough to see the joy of what God was doing in this frightening moment.

And they don’t freeze in this moment of joy.

Both the angel and Jesus send them to go and tell others. They can’t go home and live with this news alone, with warmth in their hearts. This faith in the risen Jesus isn’t something you keep inside.

No, they are sent out to be vulnerable, just as Jesus always said. They’ll risk being disbelieved. They’re women, so they’ll also risk being discounted and ignored. They’re sent to witness with their vulnerable, self-giving lives that servanthood and sacrificial love, even to death, always ends in resurrection and abundant life. That this path they’ve all been called to walk looks scary and filled with loss, but ends in the earthquake of God restoring life that has been freely given for others.

And of course you and I are also sent. If you want to follow Jesus, it means taking this joy of God’s Easter life and letting it break your immobility. It means going into the world to be Christ. To be self-giving love.

But are you still afraid? Do you fear this sending Jesus gives you?

That’s OK. Take one more look at Matthew’s Gospel. Do you see how the women left the tomb to witness? They went, Matthew says, “quickly, with fear and great joy.”

They were still afraid. But they were filled with joy. They didn’t know what the future would be for them, and that still frightened them. But now they knew this path was filled with God’s abundant life and love, a life that can’t be stopped by death, a love too strong to stay in a grave. And that gave them great joy.

It’s the joy of God’s Easter life that swings the balance for you, gives you just enough courage – it doesn’t take much – enough courage to outweigh the fear you have of being out there, vulnerable, as Christ, in the world.

If you want to follow the risen Christ, just follow these women. They’ve got the right idea. Fear and great joy, with enough resurrection courage to get moving. And Christ will meet you on the way and help you with all the rest.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

You belong to a God who made all things, brings amazing healing and life to the world and still is doing it in you and all people; trust this God for your life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Great Vigil of Easter
Texts: The Vigil stories, including the resurrection

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

There’s a lot to process here tonight.

These massive stories we heard make astonishing claims. There is a God who created all that is out of chaos, made all this beauty, and called it good, again and again. This same God acted in anger at the wickedness on this planet and flooded it all higher than mountaintops, saving a family and a bunch of animals, then repented of that destruction and promised never to do it again.

This same God rescued a particular beloved group of people from slavery and dramatically parted a sea in two. And rescued three faithful servants from a horrible death by protecting them in the heart of a flaming furnace.

And we’re asked to believe all this, outlandish as the stories might seem, stories that anyone who isn’t a believer would scoff at.

And then there’s this last one: this same God became a human being like us, lived, loved, taught, and was executed. But then rose from the dead, was seen by beloved friends and disciples. Now we’re talking about dead people not staying dead.

How do we understand these stories when all around us people will say they couldn’t be true?

Well, you’ve already done the hardest part of faith: believing in God’s existence at all.

And once God’s in the picture, there’s no keeping God out. Author Morris West wrote, “Once you accept the existence of God – however you define God, however you explain your relationship to God –you are caught forever with God’s presence in the center of all things.”[1]

Once we accept God’s existence, no matter our theology, God is potentially involved in everything. If you believe in God at all, miracles like these stories are always possible. If you don’t believe in God, nothing can prove such miracles to you.

So tonight to believers like us, these stories promise that God can do anything, therefore God can do these things.

And if God can do these things, God can do anything.

In the catacombs of Priscilla underneath Rome, there’s a tomb of a Christian woman from the late third century. And painted on the wall of her tomb is a picture of a long sea serpent with a person sticking out of its mouth, and one of three men standing in the middle of flames.

These were the pictures this faithful woman’s family wanted to see at her tomb. A God who can pull Jonah out of the mouth of a beast, who can save three people cast into a fire. Any God who can do that can be trusted to raise their beloved from the dead, too.

So for us tonight, if God can rescue a whole people from slavery, God can break oppression and injustice today, and free people from their bondage.

If God can be with people in a great flood or a fiery furnace and keep them safe, God can be with you in your trials and afflictions and hold you.

If God can raise someone from the dead, God can give you life right now.

And since God’s promised in Christ to do just that, that’s your hope tonight.

You belong to a God who is alive and active in this world and capable of bringing amazing life and healing. Far beyond reason and rational thought.

You belong to a crucified and risen God who is in the center of all things and who promises to bring life to you and to all, now and forever. To a Triune God who can create a universe, save a whole people, protect in the midst of crisis, and raise the dead, bringing life and healing to you and your neighbors and the world is pretty basic.

You’ve already done the hard thing, believing and trusting in the God Jesus reveals to you and the world. So live in the trust that such a God is love for you and for all as Jesus said, and nothing will stop this God from bringing life and healing to you and to all things.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

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[1] Morris West, The Clowns of God, prologue (alt.), © 1981 Hodder and Stoughton/William Morrow.