Sunday, October 4, 2026

Today's Worship Service - Sunday, October 4, 2026

Today we celebrate Communion together at a joint service at Bethesda United Presbyterian Church in Elizabeth at 11:15am with fellowship prior to worship. 

Worship Service for October 4, 2026

Prelude

Announcements: 

Call to Worship

L:      Welcome to God’s house, a place of faith.

P:      From our homes, we come seeking God’s word.

L:      Here you will find nourishment and hope.

P:      But may we also learn lessons of courage and peace.

L:      Here you will find rest from your struggles.

P:      Lord, prepare our hearts to receive Your words as we worship You this day.  AMEN.

 

Opening Hymn – Spirit of the Living God       #322/389

Prayer of Confession

         Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against You in thought, word, and deed; by what we have done and by what we have left undone.  We have not loved You with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.  We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.  For the sake of Your Son, Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us, that we may delight in Your will, and walk in Your ways, to the glory of Your name. (Silent prayers are offered)  AMEN.

Assurance of Pardon

L:      Hear the Good News: Paul writes to Timothy, “Do not be ashamed of testifying to God, who saved us and called us with a holy calling, not in virtue of our works but in virtue of God’s own purpose and the grace God gave us in Christ Jesus years ago.” 

P:      By that grace we are saved.  Let us believe the good news of the gospel!  In Jesus Christ we are forgiven.  AMEN.

 

Gloria Patri

Affirmation of Faith/Apostles’ Creed

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy catholic Church; the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.  AMEN

 

Pastoral Prayer and Lord’s Prayer

God of all nations, you called your people to be a light to the world, to draw to yourself all who seek peace.  Lord, we ask that you use us, your church, to be instruments of that peace, so that justice and compassion might be known in every land. 

We pray for your hurting and broken world.  We pray that conflict, wherever it may be, comes to an end, that wars might cease and peace can truly be realized.  We pray for our enemies, as much as we pray for our friends and allies. 

Lord, give our nation’s leaders a spirit of wisdom and a heart of reconciliation, that we might be guided to provide for the well-being of the hungry and homeless.  We especially think of those refugees and migrants who have left their homes to find a place of comfort and rest; away from the disasters and tragedies, conflicts and poverty in their homelands. 

We pray for your church and its leaders.  Give us pastors and church leaders who are eager to hear your voice and to follow your call.  Make us as community models of righteousness for all who seek to know your ways.  Teach us to rejoice in all things and to seek what is honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, and praiseworthy, that we might be worthy ambassadors of your good news to those whose hearts are restless for you. 

Lay your healing hand on those we have named this morning who struggle with sickness of body, mind, or spirit.  We especially pray for…

 

Hear also our unspoken and silent prayers this morning.

 

Lord, by your healing and comforting, reveal your power and love, and give us a taste of the feast to come as we pray together saying….

 

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.  Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread.  Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.  AMEN.

 

Hymn –  Precious Lord, Take My Hand          #404/684

Scripture Reading(s): 

OT – Isaiah 5:1-7

NT – Philippians 3:4b-14

Sermon –

Pressing On

Philippians 3:12-14

We live in a culture that encourages us to present the perfect, finished version of ourselves.  We show people the picture after it has been cropped and filtered, the accomplishment after the struggle has been edited out, the smile that hides the worry, and the confident answer that covers all the questions we are still afraid to ask.

A number of years ago I began watching a show on the Food Channel and really liked some of the recipes and the backstory of one of the hosts.  His name was Andy.  Over the years I followed along as Andy went from being one of the peripheral figures of the show to being one of its anchor hosts.  I followed along as drama hit the news channels about the toxicity and racism of “behind the scenes” issues of the show and how many of the hosts quit, including Andy.  Andy went on to develop his own show that was more or less successful, continued to develop his brand on social media and I followed along.  He wrote a cookbook, which I bought.  I was enchanted by his humble Persian beginnings and his love for food.  During the Pandemic, his on-line presence grew even more popular.  His perfectly curated life on Instagram seemed like a dream.  Every photo – a flawless image of plated magic.  Every picture of table settings seemed to come directly from that Robin Leach TV Show from the mid 80’s – 90’s, The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous whose slogan was “Champagne wishes and caviar dreams”.  Although I have no aspirations for being a chef, I do love to cook and drew a lot of inspiration from him.  One day, as he was launching his cookbook, I decided to send him a message knowing that it was a pipedream to ever hear back.  To my surprise, he replied.  And four years later, we’ve developed a rather robust correspondence friendship.  But the person I’ve come to know is absolutely nothing like the man you see on Instagram or TV.  He’s complex, has lots of doubts, more failures than wins, and worries about everything.  Now, when I see a picture he’s posted on Instagram, I’m mindful of the dozens of other pictures that weren’t perfect and not posted, the doubt and worry behind the smile, of the sleepless night he had prior to that day’s cooking, of the fight he’d just had with the producer who wanted the background to be different, or the pivot he had to make at the last minute for one of his signature dishes because the host couldn’t find the large pearl couscous he likes to use.

In our scripture reading this morning, Paul does not offer us a polished portrait of a person who has arrived.  Like the real Andy behind the Instagram perfection, Paul offers us something more truthful and more hopeful: a picture of someone who is still reaching, still learning, still being changed by grace.

Paul has every reason to boast.  He lists the credentials that once gave him confidence: his heritage, his religious training, his devotion to the law, and his reputation for zeal.  But his encounter with Christ changed the way he measured his life.  He discovered that faith is not a trophy we place on a shelf or a status we achieve and then defend.  Faith is a living relationship with Christ, and a living relationship is never finished.  There is always more love to receive, more grace to understand, more truth to discover, and more compassion to practice.

That is why Paul says, "I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own."  Paul does not press on so that Christ might finally accept him.  He presses on because Christ has already claimed him. Grace comes first.  Belonging comes first.  Love comes first.  The Christian life is not an anxious attempt to earn God’s love; it is our grateful response to the love that has already found us.

The phrase Paul uses in this passage of "pressing on" can sound tough to tired people.  It can sound like one more demand to work harder, accomplish more, and pretend that we are not weary.  But Paul is not giving us a religious version of the command to work until you drop from exhaustion.  He is not telling us that exhaustion is holy or that we should ignore our limits. Sometimes pressing on means simply taking the next brave step, but sometimes it means resting long enough to remember who we are. Sometimes it means speaking, and sometimes it means becoming quiet enough to listen.  Sometimes it means holding on, and sometimes it means releasing what we were never meant to carry.  The direction is always toward Christ, but the pace and circumstance may be different for each of us.

Paul then says that he does one thing: "forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead."  Forgetting does not mean erasing our memory.  Paul certainly did not forget his past.  He remembered that he had persecuted the church, and he spoke about it openly.  He remembered the communities that had nurtured him, the friends who had stood beside him, and the suffering he had endured.  The Bible itself is a book of memory. Again and again, God’s people are told to remember. 

So, what I think Paul means by saying to forget, is that the past must not be allowed to control the future.  We can learn from yesterday without living there.  We can tell the truth about what happened without permitting it to determine everything that can happen next.  Some of us might be held by regret.  We replay a conversation, a choice, or a failure and imagine that one chapter has become the title of the whole book.  Others of us are held by hurt, unable to move because someone else’s cruelty to us still speaks louder than God’s grace.  And some of us are held not by painful memories but by pleasant ones.  We remember a season when the church was fuller, when the family gathered more easily, when our bodies were stronger, or when life seemed simpler, and we spend so much time looking backward that we miss the new thing God is doing in front of us.

There is a familiar experience when we drive a car. The rearview mirror is important; without it we cannot understand what is behind us. But the windshield is much larger for a reason.  We need to see the road before us much clearer than we see the road behind us.  Memory helps us understand where we’ve been, but hope helps us see where God is leading.  Paul is not throwing away the rearview mirror.  He is simply refusing to confuse it with the windshield.

This is true not only for individuals but also for congregations.  Churches have long memories.  We remember beloved pastors, crowded Sunday school rooms, choirs that filled the sanctuary, programs that seemed to flourish, and people whose presence helped make the congregation feel like home.  Those memories are gifts, and we should honor them.  But the purpose of memory is not to build a museum around the past.  The purpose of memory is to remind us of God’s faithfulness so that we can continue to trust God with the future.  The God who met the church in an earlier generation is not trapped in that generation.  The Spirit is still moving, sometimes beyond the patterns that feel familiar to us, calling us to notice new neighbors, hear new voices, and discover new ways to embody the love of Christ.

Pressing on, then, requires us to ask a different question.  Instead of asking only, "How can we recover what used to be?" we begin to ask, "What is Christ inviting us to become now?" That question does not dishonor those who came before us.  In fact, it may be the most faithful way to honor them, because the saints of the past did not preserve the church by refusing every change.  They pressed forward in their own time.  They responded to needs that were before them, took risks they could not fully calculate, and entrusted a living faith to the generations that followed.  Our calling is not to repeat their answers but to share their courage.

Most of us would prefer to see the whole route before we begin.  We want a clear map, a guaranteed outcome, and some assurance that our efforts will succeed.  Yet much of life does not unfold that way.  Anyone who has walked through grief knows that healing rarely happens in a straight line.  There are better days and suddenly difficult days, moments of laughter that surprise us and moments when a familiar song or empty chair opens the wound again.

The toaster I’ve been using for the last five years was my sister’s.  A couple of weeks ago, it broke and I had a full-on meltdown.  Over a toaster.  Pressing on meant ordering a new one, even though I hated letting go of hers.  Pressing on in grief does not mean leaving love behind.  It means allowing love to change its form, carrying gratitude and sorrow together, and trusting that even when we cannot see very far ahead, God is present in the next step.  And the next step for me in that toaster moment was to order an even better one that my sister would have been happy that I got.

Paul then says that he presses on "toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus."  The prize is Christ: knowing Christ more deeply and becoming more fully shaped by Christ’s self-giving love. Think of a relay race.  No runner carries the baton from the beginning of the race to the end.  Each person receives what another has carried, runs the portion that is theirs, and then places the baton into someone else’s hand. We did not begin God’s work in the world, and we will not complete it by ourselves.  We have received faith from people whose names we know and from countless others whose names have been forgotten.  Our task is to run our portion with courage and generosity, so that those who come after us receive not a burden of fear but a legacy of hope.

The finish line is not a private escape from the world but a life increasingly caught up in God’s work of healing the world.  We move forward whenever our hearts become more merciful, our welcome becomes wider, our courage becomes steadier, and our lives begin to resemble the grace we’ve received.

We do not need to show the world a curated life, perfect, without flaws.  Like my friend, Andy, behind the scenes God already knows that we are striving toward the image of Jesus, pressing on toward the goal.  There may be something in your life today that feels unfinished.  There may be a prayer that has not been answered, a relationship that has not been repaired, a decision that remains unclear, or a grief that still surprises you.  Paul reminds us that Christ has made us his own, and because we are held by Christ, we are free to take the next faithful step.

Perhaps that step is offering an apology without trying to defend yourself.  Perhaps it is asking for help, beginning a difficult conversation, returning to prayer, or allowing yourself to rest.  Perhaps it is standing beside someone whose voice has been ignored, trying a new ministry, welcoming a person you do not yet understand, or releasing the assumption that the best days are all behind you.  The step may appear small, but small steps taken in the right direction are never wasted.  And in doing so, we can remember that Paul did not say, "I have reached the goal."  But rather he said, "I press on."  The gospel gives us permission to begin again after we discover that we still have more to learn.  Indeed, it is often in the unfinished places that grace becomes most visible.

Let us therefore press on—not frantically, not fearfully, and not alone, but with the quiet courage of people who know they are held by grace.  Let us press on when the way is clear and when we can see only the next step.  Let us press on toward deeper love, wider mercy, braver justice, and a fuller life. Forgetting what lies behind us, strain toward what lies ahead, trusting that the God who called us is already there.  Amen.

 

Offertory -

Doxology

Prayer of Dedication

Lord, in your faithfulness you provide our every need in ways that surpass our understanding.  We dedicate before you today the large and the small work of every member of the church, and we ask that you accomplish great things with our offerings of self and substance.  We pray this in the blessed name of our Savior, Jesus the Christ.  AMEN

Communion

Invitation to The Lord’s Table

Jesus was always the guest.

In the homes of Peter and Jairus,
Martha and Mary, Joanna and Susanna,
he was always the guest.

At the meal tables of the wealthy
where he pled the case of the poor,
he was always the guest.

Upsetting polite company,
befriending isolated people,
welcoming the stranger,
he was always the guest.

But here,
At this table,
Jesus is the host.

Those who wish to serve him
Must first be served by him.
Those who want to follow him
Must first be fed by him.
Those who would wash his feet
must first let him make them clean.

For this is the table
where God intends us to be nourished.
This is the time
when Christ can make us new.

So come, you who hunger and thirst
for a deeper faith,
for a fuller life,
for a better world.

Jesus Christ,
Who has sat at our tables,
Now invites us to be guests at his.

 

Prayer of Thanksgiving

L:      The Lord be with you.

P:      And also with you.

L:      Lift up your hearts.

P:      We lift them up to the Lord.

L:      Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

Words of Institution

Among friends, gathered round a table,
(taking and breaking bread)
Jesus took bread, broke it, and said,
“This is my body, broken for you.”

(holding the cup)
Later he took the cup and said,
“This is the relationship with God
Made possible because of my death.
Take it, all of you, to remember me.”

(pour out the cup)

In this meal God comes to us
So that we may come to God.

(Distribution of the Bread and the Cup)

(The Bread)

Christ, whom the universe could not contain,
Is present to us in the breaking of this bread.  Take and eat.

(The Cup)

Christ, who redeemed us and called us by name,
Now meets us in the sharing of this cup.  Take and drink.

Closing Prayer

Holy God,
We praise you,
for you are the One from whom we will return.

You conceived the universe,
wove the world together,
and hold all life in your hand.

You watch us waking or sleeping,
You keep every tear that we shed,
You hear every prayer we make,
You know both our best and our worst,
And you will not let us go.

So with rain, wind, and sunshine,
With all that moves in time with its Maker,
we praise you.

We praise you
for Christ’s life, which informs our living,
for his compassion, which changes our hearts,
for his clear speaking,
for his disturbing presence,
his innocent suffering,
his courageous dying,
his rising to life, breathing forgiveness,
We praise you and worship him.

Merciful God,
Send now,
in kindness,
your Holy Spirit
to rest on
converting us
from the patterns of this passing world,
until we conform to the shape of the One
whose food we shared this day. 

Make us one body as we serve you and one another in love.

Amen.

 

Closing Hymn – In Christ There is no East or West         #439/428

Benediction

          Having been healed and made whole by God’s love, now go out into God’s world to be a healer and one who brings peace and hope to others. Know always that God is with you.  AMEN.

Postlude

 

Saturday, September 26, 2026

Today's Worship Service - Sunday, September 27, 2026

 

   Worship Service for September 27, 2026

Prelude                                   

Announcements:

Call to Worship

L:      Come near to the Lord.

P:      Lord, be with us this day.

L:      Lift your sorrows and joys to the Lord.

P:      Lord, hear the cries of our hearts.

L:      Come, rest in the love and mercy of God.

P:      Bless us, O Lord, that we may be blessings for others in Your name.  AMEN.

 

Opening Hymn –  Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven             #478 Blue Hymnal

 

Prayer of Confession

You know how fickle we are, O Lord.  We proclaim Your presence with us and then we behave in ways which run counter from Your word.  We get caught up in our own needs and whine about the injustices we feel in our lives.  Help us place our trust in Your mercy and Your compassionate love.  Forgive us when we stray from Your ways and wander into paths of self-pity and self-destruction.  Lift us from the deep morass and put us back on track.  Give us confidence in Your presence and Your direction throughout our lives, for we ask these things in Jesus’ name.  (Silent prayers are offered)  AMEN.

Assurance of Pardon

L:      Feel the comforting power of God’s love and mercy in your lives.  God is with us through all our experiences.  Though we try we cannot stray from God’s love.

P:      We rejoice for this is good news for all of us!  AMEN

 

Gloria Patri

Affirmation of Faith/Apostles’ Creed

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy catholic Church; the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.  AMEN

 

Pastoral Prayer and Lord’s Prayer

Lord, Your blessings abound in our lives and we lift our voices in gratitude for these gifts from You.  We also lift our voices as our hearts cry out our concerns for those who are ill, who mourn, who feel lost.  We offer to You both our joys and concerns, so often intermingled in our lives.  Be with each of us and for those whom we name with our voices and in our hearts.  We especially pray today for…

Lord, you have heard our cries and our shouts of joy.  Make Your presence known to us again through the love and forgiveness of others as we have loved and forgiven them.

Hear now our own hearts’ desires and needs in this time of silence

Hear our prayers this day, as we gather in one voice and say…Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name.  Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread.  Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.  AMEN.

 

Hymn –  How Great Thou Art                         #467/147

 

Scripture Reading(s): 

         Psalm 25

         Philippians 2:1-13

Sermon

The Mind of Christ

Philippians 2:1-11

Most of us have had the experience of walking into a room and sensing almost immediately that something is wrong.  No one has raised a voice, no one has slammed a door, and everyone may even be smiling politely, but beneath the surface there is tension.  Perhaps two people are no longer speaking to one another.  Perhaps someone feels overlooked, someone else feels criticized, and everyone is quietly rehearsing the reasons they are right. Families know this experience.  Workplaces know it.  Even Church communities know it.  We can love one another deeply and still become tangled in pride, competition, hurt feelings, and the stubborn need to have the last word. The Christian community has never been immune from any of this, which may be why Paul writes to the church in Philippi with words that sound both tender and urgent: “Make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.”

Paul is not writing to people who have no differences.  He is not asking them to pretend that every disagreement is unimportant or that faithful people must always think alike.  The church in Philippi contained people with different backgrounds, experiences, responsibilities, and points of view, just as every church does.  When Paul speaks of being of the same mind, he does not mean uniformity.  He means a shared direction, a common center, a way of belonging to one another that is deeper than any disagreement.  He is asking them to let the love of Christ become more important than winning, more important than status, and more important than the exhausting work of proving that we are better, wiser, more faithful, or more deserving than somebody else.

Paul writes, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.” To carry some of the themes forward from the last couple of weeks, humility, too has often been misunderstood.  Some people have been taught that humility means thinking poorly of themselves, remaining silent when they are mistreated, or allowing powerful people to continue causing harm.   Those whose voices have been pushed aside have sometimes been told to be humble when what was really being demanded was their submission.  But that is not the humility Paul describes, and it is certainly not the life revealed in Jesus.  Christian humility is not self-hatred.  Humility is the freedom to stop making ourselves the center of every story.  It is the courage to recognize the dignity, pain, wisdom, and need of another person without believing that their worth somehow diminishes our own.

Paul is careful to say, “Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.”  He doesn’t say that our own interests don’t matter.  And He doesn’t ask us to have no boundaries, no needs, and no voice.  But he asks us to look not only for our own interests, but the interests of others.  The problem comes when our concern stops with ourselves.  The mind of Christ widens our field of vision.  It teaches us to ask, “How will this affect me?” but also, “How will this affect others?  Who is not being heard? Who will carry the burden of this decision?  Who is hungry, frightened, lonely, or exhausted while I am protecting my comfort?”

We live in a culture that constantly trains us otherwise.  Public conversations reward the quickest insult and the sharpest outrage. Advertisements tell us that fulfillment is always one purchase, one achievement, or one upgrade away.  Political life is increasingly presented as a contest in which compassion is weakness and compromise is betrayal.  Into that noisy, anxious world, Paul speaks this quiet sentence: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”  Not the mind of the market.  Not the mind of the crowd.  Not the mind of fear.  The mind of Christ.

Then Paul writes out these beautiful words that many scholars believe were part of some early Christian hymn, words the church may already have sung together: Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.  This is one of the most breathtaking claims in the New Testament.  In it we see self-giving love.  We see the Christ who refuses to exploit his privilege, the One who moves toward human vulnerability rather than away from it, the One who kneels, serves, touches, welcomes, feeds, forgives, and loves…all the way to the cross.

The phrase “emptied himself” does not mean that Jesus ceased to be divine or that goodness requires people to erase themselves.  Jesus empties himself not of his identity but of the use of any power he could have claimed for self-advantage.  He doesn’t cling to the status of being God.  Instead, he clings to the idea of being a servant.  But being a servant is not weakness; it’s strength under the discipline of mercy or power and authority refusing to become cruel.  It is the Son of God showing us that greatness is not measured by how many people stand beneath us, but by how willing we are to stand beside those whom the world has pushed down.

We see glimpses of that kind of humility all around us.  We see it in the nurse who’s already worked a long shift but pauses at the doorway because a upset patient needs someone to listen to them.  We see it in the teacher who notices that the child called “difficult” is carrying burdens no child should have to carry.  We see it when an adult child rearranges a busy week to care for an aging parent because love sometimes takes the form of showing up again and again.  We see it in the person who enters a difficult conversation willing to say, “I may not understand what you are saying or your point of view yet, but tell me what this has been like for you.”  None of these actions will make the evening news, but each one reflects the mind of Christ because each one makes room for the experience and journey, and life of another human being.

The biggest caution here though, is to not turn this passage into nothing more than advice about being nicer.  That’s not at all what Paul was trying to get after.  Jesus didn’t humble himself so that the powerful could remain comfortable while everyone else learned better manners.  Christ’s very existence challenged religious exclusion, social hierarchy, economic exploitation, and every boundary used to decide who was worthy of God’s attention and who was not.  He ate with people respectable society avoided.  He touched people others considered unclean.  He welcomed children when the disciples wanted them to go away.  He listened to women whose testimony was discounted.  He announced good news to the poor and release to the captive.  The humility of Christ creates a community in which those who have been ignored are seen, those who have been silenced are heard, and those who have been treated as disposable are honored as beloved children of God.  In first century Judaism, and even in the surrounding Pagan culture, those ideas were radical and totally upside down.

Not much different than today.  In twenty-first century Christianity and our own surrounding culture, that means a church shaped by Philippians 2 has to ask difficult questions.  Are we using our traditions to serve people, or expecting people to serve our traditions?  Do our decisions protect what is familiar to us while placing the cost on someone else?  Are we listening only to the loudest voices, or making room for people who have learned from experience that speaking can be risky?  When newcomers enter our doors, do they sense that they must become like us before they can belong, or do they discover a community willing to be changed by the gifts they bring? 

The same is true in our homes and relationships.  Sometimes the most Christlike words we can speak are, “I was wrong.”  Sometimes they are, “I am sorry.”  Sometimes they are, “Help me understand.” ,Those sentences can feel like a kind of dying because something in us wants to defend, explain, blame, or retreat.  We fear that if we admit fault, we’ll lose power of some sort.  We fear that if we truly listen, we might have to change.  But Christ’s cross tells us that a life poured out in love is not wasted, in fact, it might tell us that on the other side of it there may be a new relationship, a new understanding, or at least a new freedom from the bitterness we’ve carried.

Of course, not every broken relationship can be repaired.  As I’ve said before, humility doesn’t require returning to an unsafe situation, restoring trust that has not been rebuilt, or pretending that an apology has occurred when it hasn’t.  Jesus’ self-giving love should never be used to keep an abused person within reach of an abuser.  Sometimes looking to the interests of another means drawing a boundary that prevents further harm.  Sometimes love speaks gently, and sometimes love overturns tables.  What makes both actions faithful is not passivity, but a deep concern for the healing and wholeness God desires not just for every person, but ultimately for the whole world.

Paul continues the hymn by saying that Jesus “humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.” We hear those words so often that we may forget how shocking they were. The cross was not a religious decoration that people wore around their necks.  It was an instrument of state terror, designed to humiliate and silence anyone who threatened the established order.  However, Jesus refuses to save himself by becoming like the forces that oppose him.  He doesn’t answer hatred with hatred or domination with domination.  He trusts that God’s love is stronger than the empire’s cross.

Notice how the passage ends, “God highly exalted him and gave him the name above every name.”  God exalts the crucified servant.  God’s final “Yes” is the great reversal at the heart of the gospel.

Every knee bending and every tongue confessing that Jesus Christ is Lord is not a picture of God demanding flattery.  It is the joyful recognition that the true Lord is not Caesar, not wealth, not violence, not nationalism, not popularity, and not the fearful little ego that insists everything revolve around us.  Jesus is Lord.  The One who serves is Lord.  The One who welcomes outsiders is Lord.  The One who forgives enemies and stands with the suffering is Lord.  And if Jesus is Lord, then all the smaller powers that demand our allegiance are exposed.  They may frighten us, tempt us, or occupy our attention, but they do not have the final word.

The world tells us to climb, to grasp, to protect, and to conquer.  Christ opens his hands.  Christ empties himself.  Christ serves.  And Christ loves. God says that this is what true glory looks like.  May our life together make that glory visible.  May those who meet us encounter not a people consumed with themselves, but a people learning to see, to listen, to share, to repent, to welcome, and to love.  And when we fail, as we surely will, may we receive grace, rise again, and begin once more, until the mind of Christ becomes not only a passage we read or a hymn we sing, but the shape of our life together. Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Offertory –        

Doxology –

Prayer of Dedication –

         Generous God, You have blessed us with so much.  Take these gifts and cause them to work for You in this world which You formed, created, and continue to care for.  AMEN

Closing Hymn – I Have Decided to Follow Jesus   #602 Brown Hymnal

                                            

Benediction –

Go forth into God’s world as God’s own children.  Let the love of Christ be reflected in your life and your deeds.   Go with joy to serve the Lord.  AMEN

Postlude

Sunday, September 20, 2026

Today's Worship Service - Sunday, September 20, 2026

 

Worship Service for September 20, 2026

Prelude                                   

Announcements:

Call to Worship

L:      When the tides of fear seem to overwhelm us, we cry out…

P:      Lord, come to us and lead us to paths of safety!

L:      When we feel lost and alone and we wonder if anyone cares about us, we cry out…

P:      Lord, come and heal our wounded spirits!

L:      When turbulence within and without seem to threaten us, we cry out…

P:      Lord, bring us peace.  AMEN.

 

Opening Hymn –  Holy, Holy, Holy             #138/3

 

Prayer of Confession

Lord, we confess that we don’t always turn to You in our troubles.  Sometimes we are paralyzed by fear and anxiety.  We cannot see “the light at the end of the tunnel”.  For us, there is only the ongoing darkness and hopelessness.  Clear our sight, O Lord.  Bind up our wounded spirits!  Fill us with your mercy and love.  Forgive us when we stray; when we fear; when we falter.  Pick us up and place us on pathways of peace and hope, for we ask this in Jesus’ name.  (Silent prayers are offered)  AMEN.

Assurance of Pardon

L:      No matter what befalls us, the Lord walks with us on the path, bringing us courage and hope.

P:      No matter what, we belong to the Lord, now and forever.  AMEN

 

Gloria Patri

Affirmation of Faith/Apostles’ Creed

I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy catholic Church; the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting.  AMEN

 

Pastoral Prayer and Lord’s Prayer

With our hearts, minds, and souls we praise you, O Lord, for we are fearfully and wonderfully made.  How grateful we are that you love us with a love that will not let us go even though we have, by design and default, resisted you.  What is it about us that causes such resistance?  We know, O God, even as we ask, that it is the rebellious spirit within us.  Help us.  Don’t leave us to the consequences of our own foolishness.  When we come daily before your throne of grace with repentance and humility, pour out upon us the cleansing power of your forgiveness and fill us anew with the joy of Christ’s victory over death.  Then, Lord, help us not to be just receivers, but givers of these same blessings.  Sensitize us to those who need the merciful touch from you that we ourselves have received.  Grant us, we ask, the courage to extend it even to those who have wounded us deeply.  In so doing, may they then be drawn to Jesus Christ whose forgiveness was, is, and always will be boundless.

Hear our prayers this day as we pray for our loved ones and friends.  We lift up to you….

And in this time of silence listen to the beatings and groanings of our heart’s desire and replenish us O Lord.

We pray these things now in his precious name, who taught us to pray boldly together……Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy name.  Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread.  Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.  For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever.  AMEN.

 

Hymn –  Open My Eyes, that I May See                           #324/563

 

Scripture Reading(s): 

         Jonah 3:10-4:13

         Matthew 20:1-16

Sermon             When Grace Reaches the Wrong People

(based on Jonah 3:10–4:11 and briefly Matthew 20:1–16)

Last week, we recalled Joseph’s story and his continued willingness to forgive his brothers, even though they were sure that he did not.  He understood that forgiveness begins when we stop trying to occupy a place that does not belong to us, and when we trust that God can open a future larger than the worst thing another person has done.

But then we come to Jonah, and in many ways Jonah is Joseph’s opposite.  Joseph had every human reason to want revenge, yet he made room for mercy.  Jonah had not personally been thrown into a pit by the people of Nineveh, yet he was furious that God would not destroy them.  Joseph surrendered the right to sit in God’s judgment seat; Jonah, on the other hand, pulled up a chair, settled himself beneath a shelter outside the city, and waited for God to carry out the sentence Jonah had already decided was appropriate for them.  If Joseph’s question from last week was, ‘Am I in the place of God?’ Jonah’s unspoken answer seems to be, ‘No—but I would certainly like to advise God on how the job ought to be done.’  And if we’re being honest, there may be more of Jonah in us than we would like to admit.  Yes?

A little background information might be helpful though, if we aren’t that familiar with Nineveh.  Jonah’s resistance did not come from nowhere.  He had reasons to fear them and reasons to hate what they represented.  The people of Nineveh were not harmless neighbors who had mildly annoyed Jonah.  Nineveh was associated with Assyria, an empire remembered for conquest, violence, and the humiliation of other peoples.  When God originally told him to go to Nineveh, Jonah fled in the opposite direction because he knew something about God that he did not want the Ninevites to discover – God’s mercy.

After a terrible storm, the sailors, in the boat on which Jonah was trying to escape the Lord, threw him overboard to appease God, then he was swallowed by a great fish, and finally Jonah reluctantly entered into Nineveh; then, and only then he finally preached what God had wanted him to preach.  It may be the shortest and least enthusiastic sermon in all scripture.  Jonah cried out to the people: ‘Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown.’  That was it.  That was the extent of his sermon and message to the people of Nineveh.  There was no tender appeal, no soft invitation into God’s good graces, and no promise of mercy.  Yet the people listened.  From the king to the poorest citizen, they turned from violence, fasted, and repented.  When God saw their change of heart, God changed course and did not bring the threatened destruction upon them.

We might expect a prophet to celebrate.  Imagine preaching one sentence and watching an entire city reconsider the way it lives – I only dream!  Jonah, however, was not pleased; he was angry enough to die.  He prayed, ‘O Lord, is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That’s why I fled toward Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing.’  Jonah recited Israel’s great confession about the character of God, but he did not recite it as praise.  He spoke it as an accusation.  The very mercy that comforted him when he was sinking beneath the waves, in the belly of a fish, offended him when it was extended to people he didn’t like.

That is the uncomfortable part of this story.  We usually love grace when it travels in our direction.  We are grateful that God understands our failures, considers the wounds behind our worst decisions, gives us another chance, and refuses to define us by our lowest moment.  But grace can become much harder to celebrate when it crosses a boundary we have carefully drawn and lands upon someone we believe should finally receive what is coming to them.   We talked about this in a past Bible Study; that God extends grace to everyone, even someone like…let’s say, Hitler.  We may believe in forgiveness as a beautiful Christian principle, yet still keep a private list of people, groups, and kinds of sinners to whom it should not apply.  Jonah wanted a God who would be merciful to Jonah yet severe with Nineveh.  He wanted grace to be personal but not universal, freely given to the people inside his circle but carefully rationed to everyone beyond it.

Last week we said that forgiveness does not require us to call evil good. That remains essential here.  God’s mercy toward Nineveh does not erase the violence of the empire, excuse injustice, or ask its victims to pretend that nothing happened.  The text says that God saw how the people turned from their evil ways.  So, repentance mattered.  Changed behavior mattered.  Mercy is not indifferent to harm; mercy creates the possibility that harm does not have the final word.  The story of Jonah pushes us one step further than last week’s story, because it asks whether we can allow God to work even in people we do not trust yet, whether we can hope for their transformation rather than secretly preferring their destruction.

There’s a difference between seeking justice and needing an enemy. Justice asks that harm be named, stopped, repaired where possible, and prevented from happening again.  The need for an enemy asks for something more: it asks that another human being remain forever reducible to the harm they have done, so that we never have to imagine them changing and never have to reconsider the story we tell about them. 

After Jonah’s feeble attempt at preaching, the city repented, the violence had ended, and yet Jonah was still angry.  What he wanted was the ending he had already imagined.  He wanted to be proven right, getting the opportunity to watch while Nineveh burned.

We are skilled at keeping permanent records of one another’s failures.  A careless comment, an angry outburst, or a position held years ago can be stored, replayed, and used as the complete definition of a person.  Of course, accountability is necessary, but if we leave no room for repentance, learning, or change, then what we are practicing is not justice.  It is a world without resurrection.

This is where Matthew’s Gospel enters the conversation briefly.  The landowner in Jesus’s parable offers payment in equal measure to all those who worked regardless of the time they spent in the field.  Some were angry that others received more and felt that it was unjust.  Yet, the landowner says, “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me?  I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you.”  In other words, what God and the landowner offer is theirs alone to give.  Who are we to judge how it is given? 

Those words carry us back to the challenge of Joseph’s brothers, the unforgiving servant in last week’s Gospel lesson, and Jonah beneath his shelter.  Joseph had received a life he could not have built by his own strength, and grace became provision for the family that once harmed him. The servant in Jesus’ parable received the cancellation of an impossible debt, but the mercy never traveled from his account into his character.  Jonah received rescue from the depths, shade from a plant, and patient conversation from God, but he wanted every gift to stop with him.  The earliest workers were resentful of those who came to work later, feeling envious of those who received the same amount.  Each story asks the same question: Does grace become gratitude and generosity, or do we turn it into evidence that we should be favored while someone else should be unequal to us?

Sometimes faithfulness means leaving the outcome with God and continuing on our own road with God and not judging how God is dealing with someone else.  That is another way of saying, ‘Am I in the place of God?’  We are not responsible for judging the final worth of another person, and we are not capable of controlling their transformation.  Our calling is to speak truthfully, to act justly, to offer peace, to protect those who are vulnerable, and to give away the mercy we ourselves have received.  The rest belongs to God.  That does not make the journey easy.  Christian mercy is not naïveté.  That balance is difficult.  Some of us were taught that being Christian meant being endlessly agreeable, never becoming angry, and allowing people to cross every boundary.  That is not what God or Christ asks of us. 

God tried to teach Jonah this lesson through something wonderfully ordinary.  A plant grew and shaded Jonah from the heat, and Jonah was very happy about the plant.  Then a worm attacked it, the plant withered, the sun beat down, and Jonah again announced that he was angry enough to die. God asked, ‘Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?’  Jonah insisted that it was.  Then God exposed the smallness of Jonah’s compassion: Jonah cared deeply about a plant he had not cultivated, because the plant made him comfortable, but he had no compassion for a city filled with human beings and animals.  Jonah could grieve the loss of shade while remaining unmoved by the possible loss of thousands of lives.

We know how to care selectively.  We can become passionately upset when our comfort, routine, or sense of being right is disturbed, while barely noticing the suffering of people outside our familiar circle.  A church can spend hours debating the color of a carpet and very little time asking who in the neighborhood is hungry.  A community can grieve the loss of convenience while treating vulnerable neighbors as interruptions.  God’s question to Jonah is not meant merely to shame him.  It is meant to enlarge his heart. ‘Should I not be concerned about Nineveh?’ God asks.  Can your compassion grow large enough to include lives that do not serve your comfort and people who have not earned your affection?

The book of Jonah ends with that question.  We are never told how Jonah answered, whether he returned to the city, whether he learned to celebrate its repentance, or whether he remained outside with his anger.  I think the unfinished ending is deliberate, because the final answer does not belong to Jonah alone.  It belongs to everyone who hears the story.  Will we sit outside the city waiting for people to fail, or will we enter the places to which God sends us carrying the possibility of a different future?  Will we insist upon occupying the judgment seat, or will we rise from it and make room for God?

There may be someone in your life whose change you find difficult to trust, or someone you cannot yet imagine forgiving.  There may be a group of people whose very name causes your body to tighten because of what they represent to you.  The invitation in these scriptures is not to deny what happened, surrender wisdom, or rush toward a reconciliation that is neither safe nor honest. 

Perhaps we need to return to Joseph’s words from last week. ‘Am I in the place of God?’  We do not have to keep the universe’s accounts, decide who is beyond redemption, or force every story to end according to our timetable.  We can tell the truth about the pit.  We can insist that Nineveh turn from violence.  And through it all, we can trust that the God who met Joseph in slavery, Jonah in the depths, and Nineveh in repentance is still able to create a future that our resentment cannot imagine.

May the mercy we have freely received travel from our prayers into our character and from our church into a world that has learned too well how to condemn one another. 

Thanks be to God. Amen.

 

Offertory –        

Doxology –

Prayer of Dedication –

         Lord, You have blessed our lives in so many ways.  In gratitude for all these blessings and in confidence that our gifts will be used for ministries of peace and hope, we offer these gifts.  AMEN

Closing Hymn – Now Thank We All Our God                  #555/788

                                            

Benediction –

Go in peace into God’s world to serve and help others.  Go in confidence of God’s presence with you.  Go into this world with messages of hope and reconciliation.  Go in love.  AMEN

Postlude