Month: May 2026

With You Always

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “With You Always” Matthew 28:16-20

The disciples felt both overwhelmed and a little scared after their mountaintop meeting with Jesus. As the risen Lord said goodbye to his friends, he entrusted them with the continuation of his ministry. “Go and make disciples of all people,” Jesus said, “Baptize and teach!”

The disciples looked at one another, feeling the sudden weight of responsibility. If the good news of God’s love was going to go forth into the world, then they were the ones who must take it. It was a big job, and they weren’t sure they could do it. Andrew shook his head, the way he always did when he had a big question that he couldn’t possibly answer, “Did Jesus say we should make disciples? I thought we were the disciples!  Surely, Jesus doesn’t think we’re ready to do what he did.”

As Jesus’ commission and Andrew’s question sank in, the disciples felt a little panicky. They didn’t have what it would take. There wasn’t a Torah scholar among them. They didn’t have any powerful political connections. Not one drop of priestly blood flowed in their veins, and their name was mud in the Temple. They were a sorry lot, and no one had the deep pockets to bankroll their efforts. And, to be honest, they didn’t have the best track record when it came to following Jesus. One of them betrayed him. All of them deserted him. Peter denied him—three times. Even now, some of them were filled with doubt. This Great Commission, how would they begin? They were ready to give up before they even got started.

Maybe it was then that Peter spoke up, “I remember when Jesus called Andrew and me.  We were fishing, and Jesus came along the lakeshore and said, ‘I will teach you to catch people.’” Then, James and John reminisced, “We were mending nets with our father when Jesus said, ‘Follow me!’” Nathanael told them that Jesus saw him under a fig tree and said “Here is truly an Israelite.” He really hadn’t known what that even meant at the time, but he wanted to find out. Matthew confessed, “I was sitting in my tent counting money, but Jesus told me he had a different kingdom that he wanted me to serve. I left to follow him the same day.”

The disciples remembered how each of them came to follow Jesus. All Jesus did was make the invitation, and each of them had answered, “Yes.” “You know,” Peter said, “we can do that! Let’s just invite people, lots of people. Some of them are bound to say yes.”

The pragmatist Thomas spoke up next, “So, we invite all these people, and they decide to follow us. What are we supposed to do with them next?”

Peter suddenly looked very worried at the prospect of being followed by a crowd of strangers who expected him to know what to do. He put his hands to his head and said, “O Lord, help us!”

But Simon the Zealot, a natural risk taker who was undaunted by challenge, shouted, “Yes, Peter! That’s it! We begin with prayer! We ask the Lord to help us. We pray—and we teach others to pray.”

The disciples remembered all the times that they woke up early in the morning and found Jesus in a quiet place, head bowed in prayer. They recalled how Jesus called them to pray and find rest on the mountaintop or in the wilderness. Then it occurred to them that Jesus had taught them to pray—it was simple and short and to the point—it was so easy that even they could ground their work in that sort of prayer. All at once they prayed together, “Our Father, who art in heaven!”

“What do you think we should teach our disciples?” Bartholomew wondered. 

Peter, whose conscience was bothering him about the three times he denied Jesus, knew the answer. “I think we need to teach them about forgiveness.” Matthew agreed, “Forgiveness! Yes! There I was a tax collector, stealing from my own people, but Jesus called me and forgave me!” The disciples agreed. If they were going to make disciples, they could help people understand that Jesus met people right where they were at. He forgave their mistakes and flaws and short comings. Jesus believed they could lead new, more faithful lives.

Mary the mother of the Lord spoke up then, saying, “Even as my son was dying, he prayed for his executioners, ‘Father, forgive them!’” At that they all bowed their heads and thought about the people whom they needed to forgive as soon as they got down off the mountain.

It was Mary Magdalene who spoke next, “If we want to encourage people to be followers of Jesus, then we must teach them to be compassionate, to specially care for the most vulnerable of our neighbors. I was so sick that people said I was possessed by seven demons, but Jesus made me well. I will share my story to teach others of the compassion of Christ.”

The disciples remembered Jesus’ compassion: 10 lepers made clean, hungry people fed, a blind man whose eyes were opened, a deaf man given ears to hear, and so many little children welcomed and blessed.  They all agreed: telling those stories and setting a compassionate example could encourage others to be compassionate, too. Everyone turned and smiled at Mary Magdalene, “Yes, compassion!  How wise you are sister.”

“Wait a minute!” It was Thomas again. “Have we thought about who these new disciples are going to be? Are we talking friends, neighbors, co-workers, strangers?  I need a little clarity here.”

The disciples thought. One spoke up, “Well, I know someone who struggles with crippling guilt for a past mistake. He needs a lesson in forgiveness. I’m going to ask him.” Another said, “I have a cousin who despairs of life. She doesn’t know she is beloved. I’ll ask her.” James remembered, “I have an old fishing buddy. He has fallen on such hard times. He is in deep need of some compassion. I shall invite him!” Simon the Zealot, who always felt a bit like an outsider said, “We have to remember the outsiders! Don’t forget that Jesus reached out to unlikely people, like that Samaritan woman and the centurion’s slave.” They decided that if they were going to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, they would welcome all people, even the ones who made them feel uncomfortable.

The disciples were feeling pretty good until they realized that they didn’t have many resources for their teaching, no hand-lettered vellum scrolls of the Torah, no rabbinic shul, no posh retreat center on the shores of Galilee. It was a tense moment, until they realized that Jesus hadn’t needed all that. He taught on hillsides and lakeshores, in homes and gardens, and even while sitting in a boat. Jesus simply taught wherever he was. And Jesus used the world around him to make his point. Tiny mustard seeds proved that improbable disciples could do big things. Lilies of the field taught them not to worry. Birds of the air were a reminder of God’s incredible love for them.

The disciples looked at the world around them and saw the everyday tools they would use in teaching. Judas the son of James struck a spark with a flint and said, “We are the light of the world!” Mary Magdalene pretended to knead bread and quoted, “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour.” Not to be outdone, Peter scrambled up on top of a big stone, flexed his muscles, and said, “This is the rock upon which Christ will build the church!” Everyone laughed and pulled Peter down from his rocky highpoint.

They looked down from the mountaintop, at the world spread out at their feet. Far below them, they saw the checkerboard fields of farms. Off to the east they could make out busy fishing villages along the shores of Galilee. Off to the west, wrapped in haze, seaports dotted the Mediterranean coast and harbors bustled with the trade of empire. Off in the distance to the north rose the mountains of Lebanon, with Mt. Hermon’s snowy peak towering high above them all. Somewhere out there, past the Jordan Valley and the Great Salt Sea, were the sprawling windswept sands of the desert. It was, indeed, a dazzling, diverse, beautiful, terrible world out there. They had a big job to do. It wouldn’t be easy, but together they saw that they could do it.

Thomas shrugged off his doubts and stood tall. He had the last word. “I don’t know if I am up to this job, but Jesus is with us always—to the end of the age. Let’s make disciples!” They packed their gear and headed down to the waiting world below.

Go therefore, my friends. Make disciples of all people. Baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Teach them to observe everything that Jesus has commanded us. And remember, Jesus is with us always, even to the end of the age.

Matthew 28:16-20

16 Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. 17 When they saw him, they worshiped him, but they doubted. 18 And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. 19 Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit 20 and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

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On All Flesh

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “On All Flesh” Acts 2:1-18

People around the world are learning other languages with the help of Duolingo. The free downloadable app is best known for its mascot Duo, a bright green cartoon owl who flaps his wings and wiggles his tail feathers when you complete a particularly successful lesson. 103 million people use Duolingo monthly. 33 million people use it daily. The app combines short, engaging lessons with game-like elements to help users develop skills in 41 languages. Half of users practice English while others learn widely-spoken languages like Spanish and Chinese, as well as lesser-spoken languages, like Esperanto, Navajo, and even High Valyrian, a fictional language developed for HBO’s “Game of Thrones.”

I began using Duolingo last year by learning Portuguese in anticipation of our walk on the Camino de Santiago. In a short amount of time, I knew some basic phrases that would allow me to greet others, order from a menu, and ask directions. In Portugal, my language efforts were sometimes met with puzzled stares or even gentle corrections. I eventually determined that the Portuguese I was learning with Duolingo was new-world Portuguese—Brazilian—which has decidedly different pronunciations and cadences from its old-world cousin. So much for my preparation.

Despite those new world – old world differences, my fledgling attempts to communicate were generally met with big smiles and enthusiastic efforts to respond. It was good for me to take the risk of learning another language, and it was good for others that an American would respect their culture and honor their ways by taking embarrassing baby steps in communication. Lately, I’ve been using Duolingo to brush up on my German skills, which I hope are a little more comprehensible than my Portuguese.

On Pentecost, the disciples learned the importance of speaking other languages. The Spirit of God moved among them with the rush of a violent wind and dancing tongues of flame. It was like God speaking out of the whirlwind to the frightened Job. It was like the Lord enveloping Moses on the mountaintop at Sinai with smoke and holy fire. It was like nothing they had imagined—terrifying, mystifying, and enlivening, all at the same time. The Spirit of God that filled them compelled them to get up and go out into the streets of the Jerusalem, to mingle with a diverse crowd of people who were on their way to the Temple for the Feast of Weeks.

The crowd that the disciples encountered reflected the diversity of first century Judaism. Those tongue-twisting nationalities that I read earlier were a legacy of diaspora. Other nations from the Egyptians to the Assyrians, from the Babylonians to the Persians, from Greece to Rome had conquered Israel over the eons and sent the Israelites to the far corners of their empires. The disciples would have encountered other differences in the crowd, too. Some, like the Sadducees, Pharisees, and Essenes had fundamentally differing understandings of scripture. Others had vast political differences, like the Herodians, who supported the Roman-appointed monarchy, and the Zealots, who longed to tear it all down. Even before Pentecost, the disciples must have worried that the great challenge of taking the gospel out into the world would be communication. How would they meet people where they were at and bridge those profound differences in languages, opinions, and outlooks?

We are no strangers to diversity. We are first nations people, like the Haudenosaunee, who have always called this land home. We came seeking religious freedom or economic opportunity. We came fleeing persecution and ethnic cleansing. We were brought here against our will, enslaved and trafficked across the middle passage. We were imported from China to build a cross-continental railroad, but we weren’t allowed to bring our families. We are Christians and Jews, Hindus and Sikhs, Muslims and Atheists. We are the 99% and the 1%. We never made it through high school, we have a GED, we worked our way through college, we took on big debt for grad school. We are smalltown and big city. We run the ‘burbs and crave the wilderness. Our differences are a blessing.

Yet difference can be a challenge. We want everyone to be like us. We are threatened by different opinions. We think there isn’t enough room in our American dream for all people. We fear the stranger. We view one another as the enemy. Those on the left condescendingly label anyone who questions their views as ill-informed, ignorant, deplorables, Bible-thumpers, Trumpers, and gun nuts. Those on the right, sporting their own healthy dose of moral indignation, label anyone who questions their views as Dumocrats, libtards, elitists, extremists, commies, fringe, and un-American. Our differences become difficulty when we stop truly communicating. Clearly, we need to find some different ways to use language in our world today.

On Pentecost, the disciples, with the help of the Holy Spirit, learned to speak other languages. They were changed. Their focus shifted from the Upper Room to the world out there. And as the Spirit sent them out into the streets, they were enabled to communicate with others whom they had probably never associated with before, those whom they had looked past or ignored, those whom they had written off as “other.” Their minds were freed and their tongues were loosed to speak, to connect.

And as the Spirit loosed the tongues of the disciples, the Spirit opened the ears of those diverse listeners. On the tongues of strangers, they heard the sounds of home, long ago and far away. They felt the promise of acceptance and belonging. As they stopped and listened, they marveled that they were seen and sought out. They felt included and valued. They stopped feeling like strangers and resident aliens, and they began to feel like a community.

Peter, who so often misunderstood what Jesus was saying, finally got it. This blended community, this honoring of other cultures and other gifts, this acceptance of difference, it had been God’s plan all along. It was just like the vision of the Prophet Joel, who anticipated the coming of God’s Kingdom with the outpouring of God’s Spirit upon all flesh. Young and old, male and female, slaves and freeborn. All would know the indwelling of the Spirit and God’s best hope for the salvation and redemption of all people.

That’s when Peter got his preach on. Hearts were touched as he told the story of a Messiah who helped and healed and welcomed, who turned the other cheek and cared for the outcast, who gave his life as a sign of God’s love for all people. As Peter preached under the influence of the Spirit, divisions were overcome, love was known, and more than 3,000 people decided that they wanted to be part of that beautiful Kingdom where all people are united in God’s love and purpose.

Oh Pentecost! The Spirit falls upon us today, and we hear God’s wisdom for our world. We may be spending 30 minutes-a-day learning High Valyrian on Duolingo, but are we having the conversations that will bridge the divides in our communities and nation? If the disciples had stayed in their upper room enjoying growing language facility with one another, there never would have been change. There never would have been healing and growth. It’s easy for us to speak to the same people. It’s easy for us to view or read the same news sources, the ones that reinforce our world view and assure us of our rightness. But on Pentecost, the Holy Spirit might compel us otherwise, to leave the upper room, to step beyond the place of comfortable seclusion. The Spirit would invite us to engage that diverse world out there, to seek to speak the language of the other, to sincerely engage, and not simply insist upon the rightness of our own convictions.

Pentecost calls us to see that hate and division are not part of God’s plan for humanity. The rejection of others that has become endemic in our world today won’t build bridges. Can we dare to imagine that the Spirit can work in others even as it works in us? Can we remember the holy promise that the Spirit is poured out upon all flesh, all people—men and women, young and old, slave and free, rich and poor, broken and whole, sinners and saints, doubters and believers. If we can begin to accept that, then we must look for the moments that allow genuine engagement to happen.

We wonder, “What that could possibly look like?” With the Spirit’s influence, I suspect it will look a lot like Jesus. It will look like Jesus, who welcomed sinners and dined with Pharisees. It will look like Jesus, who taught women, blessed children, and included both zealots and tax collectors as his disciples. It will look like Jesus who taught that the Kingdom of God is always all around us, waiting to be realized. It will look like Jesus, who baptizes us in the Spirit.

It won’t be easy, my friends. Learning another language never is. It takes practice and discipline. Just ask the 33 million people who are practicing with Duolingo daily. But as we go forth to communicate in new and uncomfortable ways, we can trust that the Spirit who dwells within us will guide us. We’ll meet people where they are at. We’ll speak—and we’ll listen. We’ll find common ground, bridging differences in opinion and outlook. We’ll dream together of the beautiful Kingdom where we see that the Spirit dwells within all people—and the acceptance and love that Jesus showed us abounds for all. May it be so.

Resources:

Natalia Guerrero. “Good, free, fun: The simple formula that has made Duolingo a daily habit for millions” in BBC News: Worklife, Oct. 4, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20241004-the-simple-formula-that-made-duolingo-a-daily-habit-for-millions

David Curry. “Duolingo Revenue and Usage Statistics” in Business of Apps, April 20, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.businessofapps.com/data/duolingo-statistics/

Rebecca Dean. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 24, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/day-of-pentecost/commentary-on-acts-21-21-19

Margaret Aymer. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, June 8, 2025. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/day-of-pentecost-3/commentary-on-acts-21-21-18

Jeremy Williams. “Commentary on Acts 2:1-21” in Preaching This Week, May 28, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/day-of-pentecost/commentary-on-acts-21-21-16

Acts 2:1-18

2 When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. 2 And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3 Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4 All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.

5 Now there were devout Jews from every people under heaven living in Jerusalem. 6 And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 7 Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? 8 And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? 9 Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, 10 Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, 11 Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” 12 All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” 13 But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”

14 But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Fellow Jews and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. 15 Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. 16 No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:

17 ‘In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
    and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
    and your old men shall dream dreams.
18 Even upon my slaves, both men and women,
    in those days I will pour out my Spirit,
        and they shall prophesy.

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The End Is the Beginning (Look out!)

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The End Is the Beginning” Acts 1:1-11

Here in the United States, the Ascension of Jesus is perhaps the least celebrated of Christian Feast Days. That isn’t true around the world. From Indonesia to Ivory Coast to Iceland, Ascension is both a religious and a public holiday—no work, no school. In Germany, Jesus’ ascension to his heavenly Father has been a good reason to also celebrate earthly fathers since the 1700’s. Families enjoy outdoor events and picnics together. Teams of men push Böllerwagens through the streets, brightly painted carts that carry food, beer, and favorite sweet treats for all.

In Spain, Ascension is one of the most important festivals of the year. In Santiago de Compostela, where the Camino de Santiago ends at the burial site of the Apostle James, there is a weeklong celebration. Fields and cattle are blessed. There are parades. Cabezudos—figures clothed in bright costumes with huge papier mâché heads—dance through the city streets to the sound of the Galician bagpipes. Inside the cathedral, the monks fire up the Botafumeiro, a five-foot-tall, 176-pound incense burner that takes a team of 6 men to swing from the rafters.

In Austria and Switzerland, the faithful like to go on hikes for Ascension. They climb hills or mountains in commemoration of Jesus going up. Then, they feast on pheasant, geese, quail, or chicken. The poultry dinner is a nod to Jesus flying to heaven, surrounded by the sacred cloud of divine presence. Traditionally, a new friend or neighbor is invited to join the celebration. If our neighbors around the world are right, then the Ascension is worth celebrating big time. Here in the US, we may be missing something.

Let’s talk about our reading from the Acts on the Apostles. For forty days, the risen Lord was with the disciples, encouraging them, teaching them, holding them together as a community of faithful people. As he prepared to return to his heavenly Father, Jesus had some parting instructions for his friends. Stay in Jerusalem. Wait for God’s promise. Prepare for a baptism in the Holy Spirit. Not a lot of details there. Can we blame the disciples for wanting to know more?

Perhaps it was Peter who spoke up and asked the question that was on everyone’s mind, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” Despite everything that Jesus had shown them and taught them, the disciples were still holding onto old notions of the Messiah as a military hero like King David, who could vanquish their enemies and restore their political fortunes. Unable to imagine a future mission without Jesus at the helm, they hoped that God would step in. Why not conquer the Romans, bring down Herod and the Sadducees, restore the fortunes of Israel, and initiate the Kingdom of God? That sounded like a happy ending to the disciples, with ringside seats in Jerusalem for the Kingdom’s arrival.

Jesus didn’t leave the disciples with the neatly resolved ending that they wanted. Instead, he left them with a mission. He shared a vision of his friends as witnesses. They would start in their Jewish comfort zone—Jerusalem and Judea. Then, they would move into enemy territory, reaching out to their Samaritan neighbors. Eventually, they would go to a never-imagined mission field—the nations of the Gentile world. It was a daunting mission, especially since they knew that Jesus was leaving them. He wouldn’t be there to work miracles, feed the crowds, and preach those incredible sermons. Were they really up to the challenge? Jesus may have cast an inspiring vision for the future of his friends, but faced with his impending departure, the disciples felt frightened and overwhelmed, grieved and abandoned.

Endings and beginnings are hard. We mourn what is left behind and we worry about what lies ahead. We wonder if we are up to the challenge. We fear that we may fail. We may not even know where to start. We know all about that.

It’s graduation season. Yesterday morning, students of North Country Community College celebrated commencement in the Sparks Gymnasium. Last week, the Smitties graduated, outside along the lakeshore at Paul Smiths College. On June 26th, Saranac Lake High School seniors will likewise say farewell to a school that has felt familiar and become routine. Some students will step into jobs or commit to further studies. All will feel both the grief of an ending and the anxiety of a new beginning. Will they be enough? Will they have what it takes?

Endings and beginnings continue long past our school graduations. On average, a professional American works twelve jobs throughout their career. Long gone are the days of a single job that is worked across a lifetime. Each career move comes with its challenge. We say goodbye to workplace friends, mentors, and familiar tasks. We take a chance in a position of increased responsibility and pressure. We must learn new skills and adapt to different expectations. There is always a moment on the first day of a new job when we think, “What have I gotten myself into?”

I am told that even retirement bears the mixed feelings of grief and accomplishment, worry and anticipation. We bid farewell to our workplace identity and settle into a new and nebulous role that isn’t defined by our boss or our paycheck. We may miss the sense of purpose and daily routine of the workplace. We may feel the burden of time on our hands. We may wonder how many years we have left or if we have saved enough money. Or we may find a fresh purpose in volunteering, travel, or family that is gratifying and joyous.

Endings and beginnings are hard. We constantly face them. Graduations, new jobs, and retirement. Engagements, weddings, and relationships coming to an end. Births, illnesses, deaths. Something seems to always be coming to an end. Something is always bidding us to a new beginning. It was true for the disciples wondering how they would tackle a new mission without Jesus. It is true for folks like us, who navigate transitions and changes in our lives, mourning what is past, facing our fear, and stepping forward into the mysterious future that God holds ready.

When Jesus left the disciples, they stood looking up, caught in that tension between ending and beginning, wondering how they could go on. Maybe that’s why the Lord sent two messengers with a gentle nudge to move them from grief to action, saying, “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” It was time to redirect their gaze. They needed to stop looking up and start looking out. There was a wide world out there in need of the good news of God’s amazing love.

If we continue reading in the Acts of the Apostles, we discover that that the disciples found a way to make it through those ten long days of waiting for the arrival of the Holy Spirit. They gathered in the Upper Room. James and John set aside their rivalry about who was the greatest. Mother Mary and Jesus’ brothers got over their former misgivings about Jesus’ radical sense of family, and they joined the crowd of disciples. Even the women, who were once begrudged a place at Jesus’ feet, found that they were welcomed. Jesus’ friends came together in their brokenness, and they found community. 

In the sharing of their loss and fear, they found the courage to wait and wonder and trust. With one mind, they devoted themselves to prayer.  They got down on their knees, and they gave thanks for all that Jesus had done for them. They confessed their fears and worries and doubts.  And then they asked God to give them what they would need to set about this business of being Christ’s witnesses and sharing the good news from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth.  As they came together in prayer and mutual support, they realized that they weren’t alone—they had one another. They weren’t lost. God had a plan for their lives. They might be afraid, overwhelmed, and uncertain, but they trusted that God would provide what was needed when the time was right. There is wisdom there for us.

Endings and beginnings are hard, whether we are graduating or venturing into a new job or stepping out of the workforce and into retirement or managing the myriad curveballs that life brings our way. There is that tension between anxiety and excitement. There are big questions about whether we can handle the mystery of what is next. But it is in stepping into that mysterious future that we grow into the people whom God created us to be, just as the disciples grew into spiritual leaders and bold witnesses. It is in living faithfully through our big changes and in turning to one another in community, that we learn to trust that Jesus truly is with us. The end can be a beginning. With the Lord’s help we are, indeed, enough. We can stop looking up and longing for the past. We can start looking out in readiness for the future. There is a wide world out there still in need of the good news of God’s amazing love, still in need of disciples willing to step out in hope and faith.

So maybe all those countries that make a big deal out of the Ascension really do have something to teach us, after all. The end is often the beginning. That is a fact worth celebrating.

Resources

Mariana Manzanares. “5 Ascension Day Traditions” in CATHOLIC MASS TIMES. https://catholicmasstimes.com/5-ascension-day-traditions/

Brian Peterson. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 12, 2013. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ascension-of-our-lord/commentary-on-acts-11-11-2

Rebecca Dean. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 14, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ascension-of-our-lord/commentary-on-acts-11-11-11

Sharon Bettsworth. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 18, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ascension-of-our-lord/commentary-on-acts-11-11-8

Acts 1:1-11

1 In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and teach 2 until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. 3 After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. 4 While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem but to wait there for the promise of the Father. “This,” he said, “is what you have heard from me; 5 for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.” 6 So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” 7 He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. 8 But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” 9 When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. 10 While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. 11 They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

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You Are Welcome

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “You Are Welcome” Acts 8:26-38

Not everyone feels welcome in church.

Visitors or newcomers to churches can feel uncomfortable. On Sunday mornings as the church fills and old friends turn to one another in the pews to chat and catch up on the latest news, visitors may feel like socially awkward outsiders who have crashed a private party. A national survey found that over 70% of newcomers say that being singled out as a visitor in a church service is deeply uncomfortable. Asked to stand and introduce themselves or to turn and greet their neighbors with the peace of Christ, they feel the painful discomfort of public scrutiny as every eye checks them out or complete strangers want to shake their hands—or worse—hug them.

Lord, forbid that someone new sits in our pew. One Sunday a number of years ago, I spotted those golden girls Dot Shene and Norma Neese, sitting in a different place in the sanctuary. During the passing of the peace, I congratulated them on trying a seat near the front. Dot, clearly irritated, said, “We had to.” Then, Norma turned and pointed to a couple of guests, seated in their beloved back pew. “They took our seats!” she lamented loudly.

I thought that was pretty bad until I had a Sunday off and went to worship at the Tupper Lake church, where I have served as the moderator for many years. I arrived a little early and chose a seat. Then during the opening hymn, two late arrivers came and stood next to my pew. I smiled at them. “You’re in our seat,” I was told. Although I offered to move over or let them by, they weren’t happy until I had moved to a different pew.

It’s not unusual for church signs out front to bear the words, “All are welcome,” but are they really?

The Ethiopian Eunuch knew how it feels to be unwelcome in church. He was a man of status and power. In an ancient world that prized the beauty of black skin above all else, he was gorgeous. He served in the royal court of his homeland, managing the great wealth of his queen, the Candace. In a world where few people were literate, he was cultured, fluent in Greek, and a student of the Torah. He had spent a small fortune on the scroll of the Prophet Isaiah. He had come to Jerusalem on a great pilgrimage of many miles with a retinue of servants to worship and pray.

The Bible scholars point out that when the eunuch arrived at the Jerusalem Temple, he would have been denied entry. We don’t know how he came to be a eunuch, whether he was born that way, was injured in some horrible accident, or had to say goodbye to his “manhood” before he could become the Treasury Secretary, but it was who he was. He couldn’t do anything about it. He probably heard some less than welcoming scripture quoted to him in Jerusalem, like Deuteronomy 23 and Leviticus 21, which say that anyone with his “problem” cannot be admitted to the assembly or approach God with an offering because it would profane the sanctuary. 

I wonder if we can imagine what it would feel like to be the Ethiopian eunuch, to love God and fear that God did not love him, would never love him, no matter how many pilgrimages he made or prayers he said. As the Ethiopian Eunuch rattled home in his chariot, he read the words of Isaiah 53, which tell of God’s servant who silently suffers in humiliation. Those words must have tugged at his heartstrings, as if they were written about him.

Of course, we don’t have to be a church visitor sitting in the “wrong” pew or the Ethiopian eunuch to wonder if God loves us. Our feelings of welcome and acceptance are also shaped by who we are. The church universal has historically been less than hospitable to some people more than others. Many have had bad church experiences in which they feel judged and condemned. Those who have been divorced may not feel welcome. Those who choose to live together outside of marriage may not feel welcome. Those who are single parents may not feel welcome. My LGBTQ friends and family all have painful stories to share of leaving churches where they were not accepted unless they stayed in the closet. Young people with blue hair, plenty of piercings, or an abundance of tattoos describe the shocked stares and alienating whispers of people in the pews. Even when we look like everyone else, we may harbor secret hurts or shame or bad experiences that make us wonder along with the Ethiopian eunuch, “Is God’s love for me? Is God’s love for us?”

The Ethiopian Eunuch might have stayed an outsider if the Holy Spirit hadn’t stepped in and taken some bold action. The Spirit found the right man for the job, Philip. He wasn’t afraid of those who had been labeled outsiders. In fact, Philip got his start as an evangelist by taking the gospel to the Samaritans, traditional enemies of Israel. So, when the Holy Spirit sent him running down the Gaza Road, Philip was ready. He climbed into the Ethiopian man’s chariot, caught his breath, and began to tell his new friend about Jesus of Nazareth, the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy about a holy servant who was rejected by those he was sent to redeem and suffered for the world’s sins.

As Philip told the good news of Jesus’ ministry, of how Jesus welcomed the outsider, healed the sick, blessed the children, and counted women among his disciples, his Ethiopian neighbor began to get excited.  Really excited. He imagined the possibility that if Jesus had anything to say about it, God might just welcome him, might welcome a person who looked and felt like he did. If the eunuch or Philip questioned what the Holy Spirit intended for them, those questions disappeared as a strange sight shimmered on the desert horizon: a pool of water, sparkling in the midday sun. It was unthinkable, impossible even, but there it was, a big baptismal pool in the middle of that dry and dusty landscape.

Finally, the Ethiopian Eunuch could contain himself no longer, this man who had been excluded from the Temple and made to feel unwelcome in God’s House dared to imagine that he, too, was loved. “Look, here is water!  What is to prevent me from being baptized?” And in response, Philip did not quote Deuteronomy 23 or Leviticus 21. Instead, by the power of the Holy Spirit that had sent him running down the Gaza Road, Philip knew that no one is ever beyond the limits of God’s unfathomably big love.  All were welcomed. All might be claimed in the waters of baptism as God’s beloved children. The driver reined in the horses. The chariot came to a halt. And Philip with his new Ethiopian friend waded into the waters of a love that would not let them go.

It’s a wild and scandalous story that tugs at our heartstrings. It tells the simple truth that God welcomes us when the world—or the church—will not. All are welcome to these waters and claimed as sons and daughters of a holy parent who has a place for us at the table and a home for us in the kingdom. It’s a story that invites us to know our belovedness. It’s a story that dares us to be a more loving people. The Holy Spirit calls to us, as the Spirit did to Philip, setting our feet on the path to welcome and inclusion, to meet people where they are at, to open our eyes and hearts to those who are new. The Spirit calls us to judge less and welcome more. Perhaps we’ll even loosen our death grip on that favorite pew. Perhaps one day all churches will be as welcoming as Jesus.

The freshly baptized Ethiopian Eunuch rode off down the Gaza Road, full of joy and alleluias.  They say that he became the great evangelist of Africa, telling the Candace—and anyone who would listen—all about a God who loves limitlessly, who became flesh, lived and taught, healed and suffered, died and rose again to make that limitless holy love known to all people—a God who is still trying to get that message out even now.

Resources

Matt Skinner. “Commentary on Acts 8:26-40” in Preaching This Week, May 2, 2021. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-acts-826-40

Mitzi Smith. “Commentary on Acts 8:26-40” in Preaching This Week, May 6, 2012. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-acts-826-40-2

Richard Jensen. “Commentary on Acts 8:26-40” in Preaching This Week, May 10, 2009. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-acts-826-40-3

F. Scott Spencer. “Commentary on Acts 8:26-40” in Preaching This Week, April 28, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-acts-826-40-5

Acts 8:26-38

26 Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Get up and go toward the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” (This is a wilderness road.) 27 So he got up and went. Now there was an Ethiopian eunuch, a court official of the Candace, the queen of the Ethiopians, in charge of her entire treasury. He had come to Jerusalem to worship 28 and was returning home; seated in his chariot, he was reading the prophet Isaiah. 29 Then the Spirit said to Philip, “Go over to this chariot and join it.” 30 So Philip ran up to it and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah. He asked, “Do you understand what you are reading?” 31 He replied, “How can I, unless someone guides me?” And he invited Philip to get in and sit beside him. 32 Now the passage of the scripture that he was reading was this:

“Like a sheep he was led to the slaughter,
    and like a lamb silent before its shearer,
        so he does not open his mouth.
33 In his humiliation justice was denied him.
    Who can describe his generation?
        For his life is taken away from the earth.”

34 The eunuch asked Philip, “About whom, may I ask you, does the prophet say this, about himself or about someone else?” 35 Then Philip began to speak, and starting with this scripture he proclaimed to him the good news about Jesus. 36 As they were going along the road, they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?” 38 He commanded the chariot to stop, and both of them, Philip and the eunuch, went down into the water, and Philip baptized him.

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The Rock of Refuge

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The Rock of Refuge” Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

There are 120 million people worldwide in need of refuge this morning. Some are refugees, forced to leave their homeland to seek the safety of another nation. Some are internally displaced people, still within their homeland but driven from their homes. Persecution, war, ethnic violence, human rights abuses, natural disaster, famine, and civil unrest ripple across the planet. One in sixty-seven world citizens needs a rock of refuge.

Hugo Carrasco is a Dreamer. His parents brought him from Mexico to the United States when he was a child. He didn’t know he was undocumented until high school when he wanted to get a driver’s license. Hugo volunteered for Young Life as a mentor for at-risk youth while working for a restaurant. He married Leslie, whom he met through church. They have two children. One day, he was arrested in an ICE raid. He learned that although he is married to a US citizen, he isn’t eligible for citizenship because he is “illegal,” and because he was arrested on a work violation, he is now ineligible for the work papers and path to citizenship offered by DACA—the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Hugo needs a rock of refuge.

As college students in Venezuela, Mariana and Antonio took to the streets to protest the oppressive regime of Nicolas Maduro. When the military intervened, the protest descended into violence. As Mariana sought refuge, a man got out of his car and held a gun to her head. She kept running. Four years later, while visiting Venezuelan friends in Miami, Mariana and Antonio learned that they were eligible for Temporary Protected Status (TPS). The status was developed in 1990 as a way to protect individuals fleeing armed conflict, natural disasters, or other unlivable conditions in their home countries. Mariana and Antonio were awarded TPS. They moved to Miami and embarked on successful careers in finance until last April when the current administration cancelled protected status for Venezuelans. They need a rock of refuge.

Marceline Washikala is a third-generation refugee. Her family fled Congo for Tanzania when her grandfather was killed in the first civil war. Opportunities for school in refugee camps are limited, so Marceline only completed the third grade. When she was eighteen, the family was moved to Oregon for resettlement. Although her younger siblings were able to enroll in public school. Marceline was told she was too old and had too little education to join them. She had finally found a home, but adapting to a new culture and new language was hard.  Marceline needed a rock of refuge.

We are not refugees seeking a new home in the United States, yet I think we all know how it feels to need safety, strength, shelter, protection, and the promise of opportunity. Our declining health or the medical crisis of a loved one leaves us longing for a rock of refuge. The uncertainty of our personal economics, from the soaring cost of living to the dwindling of our retirement savings, leaves us longing for a rock of refuge. The fractures in our civil society which pit neighbor against neighbor, and the bitter differences that alienate us from our families leave us longing for a rock of refuge. We can pray along with the psalmist, “In you, O Lord, I seek refuge; do not let me ever be put to shame; in your righteousness deliver me. Incline your ear to me; rescue me speedily. Be a rock of refuge for me, a strong fortress to save me.”

Psalm 31 is attributed to King David. He needed refuge. Long before he rose to kingship in Israel, David was persecuted by powerful political enemies. As a young shepherd boy, David’s ability to soothe King Saul with music and his daring defeat of the giant Goliath landed him a spot in the royal court. Yet as David’s reputation as a leader on and off the battlefield grew, so did the jealousy of the king. In fact, David was forced into exile after Saul first tried to kill him and then attempted to arrest him on charges of sedition. David spent all of his young adult life on the run. Always one step ahead of Saul’s death squads, he sheltered with the King of Moab, sojourned with Philistine enemies in Gath, and lived in a cave in the harsh and unforgiving landscape of the Judean Wilderness.

David believed that God alone was his rock of refuge. In the seven short verses of today’s reading, David described God as the one who will not let us be disgraced, who saves us, listens to us, and rescues us. God leads and guides, frees us from the snares of enemies, redeems us, delivers us, shows us favor, and saves us with steadfast love. Who doesn’t need that? David’s word choice is telling. In Psalm 31, he repeatedly uses the Hebrew verb, ḥāsâ. It has a double meaning. It means to seek refuge or flee for protection, and it also means to put trust in someone, to confide in someone, to hope in someone. Despite his adversity, David knew that God alone was the one he could trust and hope in because God is our refuge. God had chosen him as a shepherd boy. God had battled with him against the mighty Goliath. God would deliver him from the persecution of Saul. God is a refuge because God’s love is faithful, trustworthy, and steadfast.

A number of years ago, one of my New Testament professors, David Cortez-Fuentes, pointed out that David wasn’t the only one to pray with Psalm 31. He called my attention to Jesus’ words from the cross in Luke 23:46. Crying out with a loud voice, Jesus said the words of the psalmist, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last. Jesus’ choice to pray with Psalm 31, even as he suffered and died, reflects his reliance on God as a refuge, his confidence in God’s love.

Jesus’ dying prayer reminds us that God is both refuge and refugee. In Jesus, God knows what it is to feel as we do—vulnerable and at-risk, embattled and under-supported, alienated and persecuted. In the midst of our powerlessness, we need a rock of refuge. Can we trust—as David did and as Jesus did—that God is both our promise of refuge and our hope for the future? The kingship awaited David. A resurrection miracle awaited Jesus. May we, too, dare to trust that our rock of refuge has goodness and mercy in store for us.

Perhaps we can even dare to share that trust with those who need it most right now, our vulnerable and embattled neighbors who desperately need the hope that is found in our rock of refuge. Hugo Carrasco, that dreamer who was scooped up in an ICE raid in Maricopa County Arizona, had strong support from his family, church, and Young Life community. He found a good lawyer who was able to have him released from detention after three months, but he is still “illegal.” His kids are teens now, but the immigration crack down underway across the nation leaves them in fear that their father could be taken away. Like others who were brought to this country illegally as children, Hugo lives with the constant threat of deportation to a land that is not his home. He is praying to his rock of refuge.

Mariana and Antonio, who lost their Temporary Protected Status as Venezuelans, face an uncertain future. Mariana says, “It has given me anxiety, a lot of sadness, a feeling of injustice.” Any day now, she or Antonio could be taken into custody and sent back to Venezuela where, although Nicolas Maduro is no longer in power, the government remains unchanged and the persecutors who once held a gun to her head have never faced consequences or checks. Mariana says, “I feel like my life is on hold.” She is praying to her rock of refuge.

Marceline Washikala, that Congolese refugee in Oregon, found an advocate in the school system who fought to enroll her in the 12th grade at North Salem High School where she had been denied status. She graduated and subsequently earned a degree in business administration from the local community college. She has helped her mother open a market for African food. She also works for the school district as a language specialist for families who speak Swahili. She dreams of getting a four-year degree and becoming a social worker, who can assist refugees and immigrants, like her. Marceline attends the First Free Methodist Church and directs the Uhuru Youth Choir, which is comprised of people from Congo, Tanzania, Mozambique, Egypt, and Kenya. They sing gospel music in various languages at churches, festivals, and hospitals in the Salem area. Marceline has finally found safety. She has finally found home. Marceline sings along with the psalmist, a song of praise for her rock of refuge. Amen.

Resources

–. “Conflict Between the Houses of David and Saul.” Bible Hub. https://biblehub.com/topical/c/conflict_between_the_houses_of_david_and_saul.htm

Brown-Driver-Briggs Lexicon. STRONGS H2620. “ḥāsâ.” Accessed online at https://www.blueletterbible.org/lexicon/h2620/rsv/wlc/0-1/

Hugo Carrasco. “I live in fear of deportation: My life as an undocumented worker” in Salon, May 17, 2014. Accessed online at https://www.salon.com/2014/05/17/i_live_in_fear_of_deportation_my_life_as_an_undocumented_worker/

Grace Berry and Abigail Wilt. “‘It is complete chaos’: TPS recipients search for solutions after protections end under Trump” in News 21, Sept. 4, 2025. Accessed online at https://upheaval.news21.com/stories/it-is-complete-chaos-temporary-protected-status-recipients-search-for-solutions-after-the-trump-administration-ends-protections/

Zachary Kasper. “Just Waiting for a Miracle” in The Immigrant Story, April 6, 2024. Accessed online at https://theimmigrantstory.org/waiting-for-a-miracle/

Danish Refugee Council. “How many refugees are there in the world?” Accessed online at https://help.refugees.now/en/news/how-many-refugees-are-there-in-the-world/

Joel LeMon. “Commentary on Psalm 31” in Preaching This Week, May 14, 2017. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter/commentary-on-psalm-311-5-15-16-3

J. Clinton McCann, Jr. “Commentary on Psalm 31” in Preaching This Week, May 18, 2014. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fifth-sunday-of-easter/commentary-on-psalm-311-5-15-16-4

John E. White. “Homiletical Perspective on Psalm 31” in Feasting on the Word, Year A, vol. 2. Westminster John Knox Press, 2010.

Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

To the leader. A Psalm of David.

1 In you, O Lord, I seek refuge;
    do not let me ever be put to shame;
    in your righteousness deliver me.
2 Incline your ear to me;
    rescue me speedily.
Be a rock of refuge for me,
    a strong fortress to save me.

3 You are indeed my rock and my fortress;
    for your name’s sake lead me and guide me;
4 take me out of the net that is hidden for me,
    for you are my refuge.
5 Into your hand I commit my spirit;
    you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God.

15 My times are in your hand;
    deliver me from the hand of my enemies and persecutors.
16 Let your face shine upon your servant;
    save me in your steadfast love.

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