Sunday, August 29, 2021

Intentions of the Heart

August 29, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

James 1:17-27; Mark 7:1-23, selected[1]

“Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers” (James 1:22). This message from James may sound like common sense, but it was considered scandalous by Martin Luther, the Protestant Reformer. Luther called the Letter of James “an epistle of straw.”[2] For Luther, the Letter of James did not fit into his doctrine of justification by faith alone. What do I mean by that? Justification by faith is the theological principle that salvation comes to an individual by God’s grace through faith, apart from any works of merit. This is outlined by Paul in the letter to the Romans. In other words, we are “saved” not by anything we do, but only by faith in Jesus Christ. Luther had more appreciation for the “theological” letters of Paul than for this letter of James, which focuses its attention on the daily practice and acts or works of Christian life.

Of course, I think faith is very important. It’s part of my job description. But perhaps James was reacting to something he was experiencing in the early church. One commentary on James explains: “For some, justification by faith meant having faith without a commitment to others, without works. James, then, is trying to correct this idea by introducing works as an important element in justification.”[3] James saw a lack of integrity among those in the community to which he wrote. He criticized those who thought of themselves as if they were isolated individuals with no relationship to the wretchedness around them. He spoke out against those who were quick to speak and to get angry, but did nothing to change the circumstances that oppressed the poor, the orphan, and the widow.

We could offer that same critique to contemporary Christianity. Many of the attributes James criticizes are going on in churches today: hypocrisy, corruption, favoritism, gossip, divisiveness, navel-gazing, and a focus on saving ourselves for heaven rather than helping our neighbors escape the hell they are living in right now. If you have a big building that survived a hurricane, but you don’t offer to shelter those whose homes did not, I don’t think you actually have a church.

It is not only our failure to act, but also the words that we choose that can undermine the labor of love, justice, and peace. James tells us to “be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). We all know that words spoken in the heat of anger are the ones we most often regret. Words that are motivated by fear, pain, and frustration are often the most destructive, and are a quick way to cause a break in our relationships. James counsels us to slow down, to think before we speak, before we cause harm with our mouths.

Jesus has a similar warning in the passage from Mark. It is the things that come out of us, our words and actions, which can cause harm and defile us. Racial slurs and stereotypes, labels that dehumanize and shame, oversimplification, and outright deceit are poison that destroys community and relationships, and eats away at us from the inside. We cannot be who we are called to be when we allow the evil within our hearts to spill out of our mouths. We cannot reflect the word of God unless we bridle our tongues, and speak instead from the love and kindness that are also implanted in our hearts.

James must have sat through his fair share of contentious gatherings, and maybe even a few political campaigns. He understood that unless anger is transformed, unless it is tempered with patience, anger alone cannot make things right. “Be quick to listen” (James 1:19), he says, because it is in listening and in being listened to that we open ourselves to a welcoming, trusting relationship with one another. It is hard work, especially for those of us who are impatient, quick to judge, or have already made up our minds, to listen, really listen, to the other person. Patient listening can, however, redirect anger toward solving the problem and not just treating the symptoms.

When we look in the mirror, what are we like? Are we “hearers of the word and not doers” (James 1:23)? Honestly, we all fall short of perfection. I know I do. And that is one of the reasons often given for why people are leaving the church: hypocrisy, and the way that we fail to live up to our rhetoric. All are welcome here, but if your toddler makes too much noise, or you haven’t showered recently, or your skin is covered with tattoos, you will probably receive some “looks” if not an overt indication that maybe you’re not really welcome.

What we need to remember, and to practice with one another as the Church, is that we are not perfect. We are not the Kingdom of God. We are not the community of saints. We are a community of people who are trying to become saints. We are the broken people of God trying to find the Kingdom. We are imperfect, “hearers who forget” (James 1:25), wicked, sordid, angry sinners. But we’re trying. And we must be patient with one another as we try. We must listen to one another, learn from one another, and grow in faith with one another.

The Letter of James calls on us to live up to a high standard. James is trying to elicit integrity from us, that is, consistency in hearing, seeing, believing, speaking, and doing. We’ve all heard the gospel stories, we’ve learned the Great Commandment; does that change how we act? Do we really love God with all of our being? What do we do that shows that? Do we really love our neighbors? What do we do that shows that? How is the way that we live informed by our faith?

I have a friend who is an aggressive driver. She was ordained a few years ago, and now she has a “clergy” sticker in her car window. I remember her telling me how now she has to be careful about how she reacts to the other drivers around her. I had one of those stickers too, and let’s just say, I take a lot of deep, calming breaths while driving.

There are evil intentions in our hearts. There is “fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly” (Mark 7:21-22). But, we were created by “the Father of lights,” from whom we receive “every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift” (James 1:17). These intentions are in our hearts too: generosity, kindness, love, faithfulness, hope, respect, peace, and truth. But we must do these things, not just hear them, not forget—when we turn away from the divine mirror—that we have light inside us that is longing to shine forth.

We have work to do. It is the work that was begun long ago by those in the Old Testament who cared for the widow, the orphan, the stranger. It was given a new life by Jesus of Nazareth, who always found the pressing issues of those in need to be more important than any dogma or fine theological point. It is the work of loving our neighbor actively. It is the work of showing evidence of our faith through our actions. It is the work of taking responsibility for our anger, learning to listen well, and becoming builders of the community of Christ.

Our work is to move ourselves and the world around us ever closer to becoming the realm of God. We are the first fruits, the early signs of God’s new creation. We can embrace both the good and evil intentions of our hearts, and take responsibility for our words and our works. We can, with humility, accept our potential for construction and destruction, and seek to develop the best in ourselves, in one another, and in our community. In this way, together, we can transform the world. Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Luther’s Works, vol. 35, Word and Sacrament I (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1960), pp. 395-397.

[3] Elsa Tamez, The Scandalous Message of James: Faith Without Works Is Dead (New York, Crossroad, 1985, 2002), p. 53.

Sunday, August 22, 2021

Stand Firm

August 22, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Joshua 24:1-2a, 14-18; Ephesians6:10-20[1]

Someone posted this message yesterday on the Crystal Lake community Facebook group:

I would like to share this story that my son told me when he came home from the Crystal Lake Jewels last nigh (sic):

My son was helping out a neighbor who is going thru a hard time, she received her SNAP money yesterday and was going to walk to Jewel, it is over an hour walk, so my son offered to drive her, well at the checkout she overspent and did not have enough money to pay for all the items so my son helped her put a few things aside(he had no money on him)and they left the store, a few seconds later a man walked out and called to them and said he saw what happened and purchased those items for her. My son said he literally cried because of this man's kindness and also knowing what this poor women had been thru.

That is a beautiful story of kindness and how even a small act can make a big impact, something any of us could do. It is good that we can, at times, look to our neighbors for help. The kindness of strangers can be a blessing. And yet, I wonder, wouldn’t it be great if we would create a society in which no one goes hungry, no one comes up short at the grocery store. Couldn’t we make a world in which no one has to choose between paying for medicine, the electric bill, or gas for the car?

We have been at war for twenty years. Al-Qaeda was broken up in Afghanistan, but that only took a couple of years. We did manage to find Bin Laden, but that was ten years ago. As the Afghan Army melts away, and the Taliban retake control, we’re left wondering, was it worth it? Are we safe from terrorism? Will the Afghan people be better off this time, especially the women and children?

I have great respect for those who have served, who have fought to protect us and have tried to make the world a safer place in which to live. But I wonder if a trillion dollars spent on the machinery of death in the graveyard of empires could have been spent to end hunger here at home. As our fear of foreign terrorists wanes, and our fear of home-grown violent extremism grows, could we take our energy that has been for so long focused on war and turn it toward building well-being?

We love to fight. Human history seems to be mostly a record of battles won or lost; the fate of nations decided on the battlefield. The imagery of war and warriors is infused into our cultures. Sports arenas resemble the Roman colosseum and athletes resemble gladiators. Politicians fight for their side and view the other party as enemies bent on destroying the republic. Even our effort to stop the spread of the coronavirus is a battle pitting healthcare workers like frontline soldiers against the scourge of COVID.

The Bible, too, is filled with violent imagery. Even when the stories are not about actual battles, violence and death permeate the text. A story about a vineyard turns on the violence of the workers who murder the son of the landowner in hopes of inheriting the vineyard for themselves. Yet the cry for peace and justice persists throughout the text as well. The ancient concept of shalom, the world as God intends, with justice, righteousness, peace, and harmony, green pastures, and a land flowing with milk and honey; that imagery is there as well.

The passage we read from Ephesians deliberately employs the language of the warrior with a fervent exhortation to be clothed and equipped with the tools and armor used to wage war. This text evokes an epic battle against spiritual forces bent on our destruction. Its purpose is to prepare us to become active participants in the struggle against the rulers, authorities, and cosmic powers of darkness. But, more importantly, it is not a sword and shield made of steel that we are to wield in this battle. This battle is not with flesh and blood, but with forces bigger than any human adversary.

We are living through and existential crisis, or really more than one. An existential crisis is a moment when what is at stake is existence itself. Will our republic survive the division between our political parties? Will our society make it through multiple waves of coronavirus variants? Will the planet warm and the climate change to the point that continued human survival is threatened?

Though the crisis faced by the early Christians is not the same that we face, we have some guidance from Paul and others that can help us navigate our own struggles. And we must remember that this guidance was not for personal spiritual growth. Some have interpreted Ephesians as an individual expression of faith. Instead, as the Rev. Dr. Cheryl Lindsay writes, “this letter was not originally written for personal devotion but for community formation. This was a letter to a people not a person.”[2] The Christian life is life in community and we are meant to work together, by the power of the Holy Spirit at work within all of us, to bring about shalom, the kin-dom of God.

We must fasten the belt of truth around our waist. Many of our political disagreements come from a small group of people spreading misinformation to a large audience. Entertainment and opinion packaged to look like news poisons our discourse and leads us to think that our political adversaries are not only wrong but evil. Yet the truth is out there to be found. It might take some work to find it, however. Check your sources. Look for more than one account of an event. Follow a story through to its conclusion, particularly when something sensational seems to have evaporated.

“Put on the breastplate of righteousness.” Do what is right, not only what is expedient. Work for right relationships between people. Show kindness, in the grocery store and in the business negotiation. Even when others “get away with it,” don’t. Do what is right, even when it costs you. Even if no one is looking, God is watching, and “all that you have is your soul.”[3] Worry as much about protecting others as you do about protecting yourself. Put a mask on, even if you’re vaccinated, even if you don’t feel sick, because you care about others and don’t want them to catch a deadly disease.

Wear the shoes of peace. Wear shoes that will allow you to stand up for what is right without stomping on what is wrong. Walk away when you feel the anger rising within. Walk quietly in tender moments. Walk in the shoes of those who have to walk an hour to get to the store, and those who are going through a hard time. Wear the shoes that will give you compassion for those in need, and bring peace and the good news of forgiveness and love wherever you go.

Take the shield of faith, the faith that we are not alone, that Emmanuel is God-with-us. Trust in God to enter the struggle with you, and to keep the mission going even when you cannot. Do what you can to make the world better, and trust that we are with you, working alongside you. Have faith that we can survive the crises we face if we work together to overcome the cosmic forces of doom.

The helmet of salvation gives us the confidence that even if we don’t get there, even if the vision of a better, safer, healthier world is not achieved when we come to our end, all is not lost. We will never be given over to the powers of evil, but will always be held close to the one who so loves the world.

Finally, take the sword, the word of God, which is love, grace, and hope. Use the sword of God’s shalom to cut down the barricades of fear, bitterness, and resignation. Lay that sword across the chasm of division so that we may join as one community, one family with others and together triumph over the “the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil.” Stand firm in prayer, in common cause, and in faith.  Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] The Rev. Dr. Cheryl A. Lindsay, “Sermon Seeds: Prayer and Protection” online at: https://www.ucc.org/sermon-seeds/sermon-seeds-prayer-and-protection/.

[3] Tracy Chapman, 1988.

Sunday, August 15, 2021

Unexpected Places

August 15, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Psalm 139: 1-10; Mark 6:1-13[1]

I haven’t been camping in several years. The last time we went camping had not been quite a disaster. It had already been a rough few days. My family went tent camping down at Starved Rock State Park. It looked from the weather reports as though the rain would pass through Wisconsin and bypass Illinois. And while we were there, it did. It had been raining there quite a bit, however, as evidenced by the Illinois River flowing over the visitor center parking lot. And that meant that it was wet, and hot, and buggy.

I was miserable, and did not want to be there. And I let everyone know it. But we made it through the first night, and managed to get going in the morning. The boys had walking sticks they’d acquired at Vacation Bible School the week before, so they were excited to hit the trail. We marched along, seeing beautiful scenes of the river, the rocks, and the trees. Eventually we made it by trail to the Visitor Center, which was not itself flooded. And there was air conditioning, and food, and cold water.

With directions now in hand, we found the way to get down into the valleys to see the waterfalls. We even got the kids to stand still long enough for some nice pictures. After that we hiked out and went for ice cream. But back at the campsite, Felicia got a call that her sister had been in a car accident. While she was processing that, I noticed that what had seemed to be mosquito bites on the boys were swelling up really big. We quickly ate our dinner and headed for the hospital.

With assurances from the ER doc that they were not dying, just having an allergic reaction, we decided that I had better pack up the campsite so we could head home. I left them at the hospital, and as I packed up, the alerts began to come in about tornados hitting just north of us. Felicia and the boys caught a cab to a motel, and I finished packing up. I made it to the motel just before the heavy rain started.

Nice story, Dave, but what’s your point? Well, the title of this sermon is “Unexpected Places.” Where do we find God? In the church sanctuary during worship, I hope. Maybe we find God at the lake shore, on the mountain top, or at some camp or retreat center. The writer of Psalm 139 speaks of God being found in heaven, in Sheol, even at the farthest limits of the sea. “Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?” God can be found everywhere, of course. But I think we have to be looking in order to find God, especially in unexpected places.

I certainly wasn’t looking for God in the heat and humidity at Starved Rock. But I appreciated the Visitor Center with its air conditioning that much more. I was delighted by the beauty of the waterfalls. But over the next few days, as I shared the photo of my family taken there with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time, I gained a much greater enjoyment. Mosquito bites, nope, not looking for God there. But the ER trip gave us time to reconsider the value of staying another night in the tent. The next morning was much more pleasant than it might have been.

When Jesus came to his hometown, the people of Nazareth were looking for God. It was the sabbath, and they were gathered in the synagogue. But when God appeared in the unexpected place, in this carpenter, the son of Mary, they weren’t looking there. “He could do no deed of power there,” Mark says, perhaps because of their unbelief. Maybe they were so used to seeking God in the familiar places that to find God in the unexpected was just too much to wrap their heads around.

This event is followed by the first major act of delegation by Jesus. He sends them out, the twelve, into the villages. He warns them that some people are not looking for God in the unexpected arrival of these fishermen-become-disciples, and might treat them like we do when certain people come knocking unexpectedly on our doors. Jesus sent them anyway, because he knew that in unexpected ways they would find welcome, and be empowered to share their message and bring healing.

Some years ago, I was at dinner one evening with friends, colleagues in ministry, two women and two other men. We had been talking about issues of privilege and equality, about who has power handed to them and who has to fight for it. I was running late for a meeting and I wasn’t going to be able to finish my steak. So, I turned to the guys and said, “Do you want the rest of my steak?” My friend Nicole asked, “What about me?” As I turned red and covered my face with my hand, we all burst into laughter. I am thankful for friends who are able to point out my faults in love. We don’t often think of God making us laugh, but the Spirit was there at the table with us.

We live in a time when we all recognize the church is in decline. Membership and attendance numbers are going down, in small town congregations like ours, and even in the fundamentalist mega-churches. COVID restrictions have forced us to worship in virtual spaces. And yet, at General Synod, the national gathering of the UCC, we celebrated 7 new UCC churches that have been started since the last UCC General Synod in 2019.

At the virtual Synod event a few weeks ago, I attended a workshop hosted by the Back Bay Mission in Biloxi, Mississippi. Do you remember Hurricane Katrina? We heard a lot about New Orleans, but do you remember hearing anything about Biloxi, MS? It was like a nuclear bomb went off there. There are neighborhoods where there is still nothing left. Members of the Back Bay Mission struggled to respond even as their own homes and headquarters were washed away. It took time, but they were able to begin recovery efforts. With help from the UCC Disaster Ministries, Back Bay Mission is still a vital resource for the Gulf coast region. The speaker at my workshop said “UCC Disaster Ministries sticks around. They are not the first ones there, but they are the last to leave.” Everyone loves New Orleans, but down the coast in hard-hit Biloxi, God is still showing up.

This past weekend I travelled to Colorado for a planned vacation with my sister’s family. My dad has not been doing well for the past several months, and had been in the hospital a week previously. We all visited him and my mom before heading to the mountains. We visited Leadville, where my wife grew up, and rode the old train line up the mountain. It was beautiful, warm and sunny, and we all had a nice time. And it was good to have time together as a family.

On Tuesday, as we packed up to leave, my mom called to tell me my dad had passed away in the night. It wasn’t a surprise, just sad. My wife and I had talked with our children the night before about what was coming, so they would understand. We had been able to say goodbye, and had been together doing things he would have loved. God’s grace was with us, even far from home.

We find God where we look for God, and though it may not occur to us in the moment, God is often found most strikingly in the unexpected places. This was news to most people in ancient times, just as it is news to us today. That is why we still find the cross to be a strange symbol for our faith. It was, after all, a symbol of Roman Imperial power. It was the tool of torture and death for those who dared rebel against Rome. Who could have expected to see God in such a horrible device?

It was, and still is, quite unexpected to find God in the frailty of human life. In the person of Jesus, we unexpectedly find that God can not only identify with our weakness, but has been tested in every way, just as we have. The good news is that God is to be found in the unexpected places. When the people are conquered over and over again, and even sent into exile, they are not abandoned. When the Christ is nailed to the cross, God is still there.

There is no place on earth, in history, in your life where God cannot be found. Even at the uttermost end, even when hope seems lost forever, “even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.” Expect God in the most unexpected places. And, my friends, be prepared. God might use you and me to bring the good news. We are the unexpected places.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

Sunday, August 1, 2021

Bread of Life

August 1, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 6:24-35[1]

Have you been hungry lately? How about thirsty? So, what’s wrong, don’t you and I believe in Jesus? Let’s not fool ourselves by taking a metaphor and making it literal. Jesus often explained things using stories and metaphor. Bread is one of those metaphors that connect something we know and understand to something we’re trying to learn.

When we pray the Lord’s Prayer, and ask for our daily bread, we’re not really asking God to give us a baguette for our supper. We’re asking for something deeper, the nourishment that our spirits need daily. That nourishment, that sustenance, that comes only from God is what we pray for.

When the crowd found Jesus, they found someone who gave sustenance for their souls. They we’re healed, they were listened to, they heard stories and scripture, and they received love. They couldn’t get enough of it! Jesus left with the disciples to go to Capernaum on the other side of the sea. The crowd followed, because they needed more of what Jesus was offering.

Jesus knew something else was going on, beyond their desire to be healed and fed. At least some in the crowd wanted to make him king. Their rulers were tyrants, demanding huge sums in taxes, engaging in massive building projects not for the benefit of the people, but to impress Caesar. A once proud nation, focused on the worship of God had become a colony focused on the worship of the emperor. The people wanted to go back to the days when their kings had been like David and Solomon, rulers renowned for their righteousness and wisdom.

Another aspect of wanting Jesus to be king is that they wanted him to be the king they wanted. A king that would meet their needs. They wanted Jesus to lead them to national greatness. They wanted a king who would fill their bellies like their ancestors had eaten manna in the wilderness. They wanted, as Jesus put it, “the food that perishes” (v. 27). They wanted a king made in their image. A king they could control. A political tool to serve their political ends. Jesus was not the king they wanted.

Jesus came to bring them nourishment for their souls. The Son of Man gives “the food that endures for eternal life” (v. 27). The needs of our bodies always return. We may eat our fill, but we will be hungry again. We may receive healing, but we will be sick and broken again. What Jesus was offering was something everlasting, something that would never need to be replenished, and would never run out.

The story told in The Gospel According to John is a story situated in a particular context, a certain time and place, but it is really a story about the meaning of Jesus in the universe. John’s Gospel begins with the Creation story, and the Word who was with God. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and returned to God. The timeframe of that story is eternal, and the location is all of God’s creation. In that sense, Jesus didn’t come to be an earthly king, but an eternal, cosmic one.

“What sign are you going to give us then?” (v. 30). The signs that Jesus gives them are not the symbols and acts of a conquering king of this world. Instead, what they receive are signs that point to belonging in the one true family, the kin-dom of God, which is eternal and boundless. Compassion, healing, hope, and love, these are not the attributes of a ruler. They are the attributes of a family.

So why did they follow Jesus? Why do we? It may be that the crowd that got in boats to cross the sea pursued Jesus because they wanted to use his power for their own ends, rather than follow him in pursuit of God’s will. Now I can understand their desire for a powerful leader. Who better to break the power of the Romans than God’s Messiah? And once they had achieved their deliverance, what better way to ensure their goals and desires were met than to use the political and economic power to achieve them? Jesus was, to some, a means to achieve power.

Do we do the same sometimes? Do we pursue Jesus in order to achieve our own goals, our own human kingdoms? Or, do we follow where Jesus leads, in order to participate in God’s kin-dom: to love and care for one another with the compassion and kindness of a holy family? Are we seduced by the sparkling gem of Jesus’ power, or are we pulled toward a ministry of healing and hope?

There was a time when the Christian Church was powerful, sanctuaries were full, and the world revolved around the Christian calendar. Sunday was for church, and everything else was scheduled around that fact. And yet, one scholar asks, “did Jesus cross the water from that church?”[2] When the Church was ascendant, did it become a club for the saved, and forget the mission of saving the lost? Mark’s Gospel records Jesus saying, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”[3]

The crowd had been healed and fed, a sign, a miracle. And yet it wasn’t enough. They wanted to gain his power for themselves. “When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.”[4] They had seen his power, but missed the point. Jesus shared bread and fish with five thousand people, a demonstration of compassion and generosity, and all that some of them saw was the act of power. Jesus didn’t come to impress the crowds, but to lead them to a new way of being.

Jesus did the things he did not to gain the support of the crowds for political gain. He healed so that the sick would know they had a healer. He forgave the sinners so that they would know that they were still loved. He fed the hungry so that they would know that God wanted them to have life.

“Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty’” (v. 35). Jesus wasn’t offering magic baskets of bread that never emptied. He was offering a way of being in the world. When it is our souls that hunger and thirst, it is not power or prestige that we need. When it is our souls that hunger and thirst, it is justice and peace that we need. It is hope and healing that we need. It is compassion, love, and family that we need.

What is the bread that gives you life? For me, a smile and laughter shared; a companion in the waiting room or a hand to hold in the hospital bed; a kindness given with nothing expected in return. What gives me life is not pursuing Jesus to try to capture his power, but following where he leads, into the midst of the powerless and the hopeless. When we eat together, as Jesus showed us how, we are nourished by the bread that comes down from heaven, strengthened by our shared mission to bring more love, hope, and peace to the world. Let us break bread together.  Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] The Rev. Dr. Cheryl A. Lindsay, “Sermon Seeds: Grow, Grow Together,” reflection on John 6:24–35 for August 1, 2021, from: https://www.ucc.org/sermon-seeds/.

[3] Mark 2:17.

[4] John 6:15.