Our reading today comes from Paul’s letter to the Philippians, chapter one.

A few weeks ago, we read from the book of Acts about when Paul and Silas visited Philippi in northern Greece, where they ran into some trouble, but ultimately ended up kind of winning some folks over. It is believed that the church in Philippi is among the first that Paul founded in Europe, and it was thought that that’s around the year 50.

Then scholars debate over whether it was a couple years later or a full decade later that Paul writes — as is his practice once he’s founded a church — he writes a letter, or multiple letters, to a particular church.

So this is the beginning of his letter to the church in Philippi:

Philippians 1: 1-18

Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus,

To all God’s holy people in Christ Jesus at Philippi, together with the overseers and deacons:
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

It is right for me to feel this way about all of you, since I have you in my heart and, whether I am in chains or defending and confirming the gospel, all of you share in God’s grace with me. God can testify how I long for all of you with the affection of Christ Jesus.

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.

Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear.

It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. The latter do so out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, supposing that they can stir up trouble for me while I am in chains. But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

You’d think that Paul wouldn’t remember Philippi so fondly. Last time he was there, a possessed woman would not leave him alone, and he was arrested and flogged in the public square, jailed overnight, and experienced an earthquake.

Paul could have spent his time complaining about his treatment during his stay there. But instead, he writes, “I thank God every time I remember you.”

Timothy Atkins Jones writes, “The exuberance of Paul’s gratitude flows from their history. He prays with joy because their relationship has endured many years of struggle.” Strangers have become friends. Even former opponents, such as his jailer, have become friends — and not just friends, but partners in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Atkins points out “the community has demonstrated their commitment to Paul by providing the resources necessary for his work. They’ve invested materially in Paul’s ministry. Beyond merely encouraging him in the good work, they underwrote it.”

And here, even as he writes, Paul is once again imprisoned. But as we have witnessed before, this does not slow him down or deter him.

When he was in Philippi and in prison with Silas, they prayed and sang hymns. They preached to their fellow prisoners. Now again in prison, Paul uses the time to write to the Christian community in Philippi, even as he preaches to his current captors.

Paul is singularly focused. Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard famously wrote that purity of heart is to will one thing.

Buddhist practitioner and teacher Bodhi Pascua writes, “To will one thing means to have a mind that is unifying around an organizing principle that gives our lives meaning.”

He writes, “I believe that we all attempt to find such an organizing principle. We choose one thing that is for us the most important thing in our lives.”

For Paul, it is preaching and spreading of the gospel. But he could not have done all of it on his own. Even the letter itself is not just from Paul, but from Paul and Timothy. Partnership in the gospel, as Paul calls it, is critical to his success.

Brené Brown writes, “To love someone fiercely, to believe in something with your whole heart, to celebrate a fleeting moment in time, to fully engage in a life that doesn’t come with guarantees — these are risks that involve vulnerability and often pain.”

She says, “But I’m learning that recognizing and leaning into discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy and gratitude and grace.”

This vulnerability, rooted in relationship, is how the Christian faith spread early on. Mennonite historian Alan Kreider wrote in his book The Patient Ferment of the Early Church that “the early Christians didn’t grow in number because they won arguments. Instead, they grew because their habitual behavior, rooted in patience, was distinctive and intriguing. Their “habitus,” as he calls it, enabled them to address intractable problems that ordinary people face in ways that offered hope.”

Here at RPPC, our affection for one another is not based on our like-mindedness or our similar socioeconomic standing. It is rooted in the gospel.

Recently, I was reflecting with a church member about our practice of passing the peace during service, and they confessed to me that they were unsure about this practice when it was first introduced. “That’s what fellowship time is for after service,” was a common objection.

And now, my goodness, I think if we allowed it, you all would go on for the rest of the service. Seeing that makes this pastor’s heart glad.

It has become, as Alan Kreider would say, part of our habit.

However, there is a danger to our mutual affection as well. We need always to stay mindful of guests and visitors, as well as the more introverted among us, who may not be as keen on the practice as the rest of us, because that’s part of what it means to be open and welcoming as well.

Marcus Borg points out that when we read Paul in Christian scripture, we are reading somebody else’s mail. We are eavesdropping on someone’s conversation.

Paul writes to the people in Philippi, “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, and how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer: that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you determine what is best.”

These words of Paul expose his deep love and caring for the people of Philippi.

Today is Mother’s Day, a day to celebrate and acknowledge maternal love and sacrifice.

Now, you may have noticed that today’s service is much like that of any other Sunday, and some may be disappointed in this fact. I will admit this is something that I wrestle with. How much do we acknowledge secular holidays like Mother’s Day and Father’s Day and the Fourth of July, Memorial Day?

To completely ignore them seems kind of tone deaf. But on the other hand, to center our worship around them is extremely problematic.

I know people who purposely choose not to come to church on Mother’s Day because it’s complicated. Or the Fourth, because the mixing of faith and patriotism makes their stomach turn.

And I get that.

But let me tell you, this sensitivity is not what some might call political correctness run amok. It is also a part of our love for one another. It is also part of our mutual affection. We make room for those whose experiences and thinking are different than our own.

And here’s the key point: this does not impoverish us. It enriches us.

Frederick Collins writes, “There are two types of people: those who come in a room and say, ‘Here I am,’ and those who come in the room and say, ‘Ah, there you are.’”

Making room for the other is not a membership strategy. It is the call of the gospel.

Paul began as an outsider. He reminds us often that he used to persecute Christians until he had an experience of the love of God in Christ Jesus that transformed him. But he never lost that perspective of what it means to be an outsider, and neither should we.

Last Sunday we began celebrating our 125th anniversary as a congregation. At times like this, it’s customary to look back on our history and give thanks to the saints of the past, and we will certainly do that. But along with that, we need to be mindful of the saints of the present, as well as those of the future.

We also need not gloss over the parts of our history which we would rather leave in the past. Our faith calls us to be honest with ourselves and with God. That’s why we practice confession, because without confession, forgiveness and repair cannot occur.

Friends, to love one another as Christ loves us is not easy. It was not easy in Paul’s time, and it’s not easy in ours. There are many forces that want to divide us. It takes time, energy, and commitment to create the beloved community.

But as Brené Brown points out, recognizing and leaning into the discomfort of vulnerability teaches us how to live with joy and gratitude and grace.

So friends, my prayer is that we too may grow in love and mutual affection together, but also that we may never lose the perspective of what it means to be an outsider or newcomer to the community.

In other words, may we be the type of community that doesn’t say, “Here I am,” but proclaims, “Aw, there you are.”

Amen.

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Discussion Questions:

1. Partnership in the Gospel

• Pastor Mark reflects on Paul’s deep affection for the church in Philippi despite the hardships he experienced there. What do you think made that relationship so meaningful to Paul?
• Paul describes the Philippians as his “partners in the gospel.” What does true partnership in faith look like today?
• Have you ever experienced a community that supported you spiritually, emotionally, or materially during a difficult season? What made that support meaningful?

2. Vulnerability and Christian Community

• The sermon quotes Brené Brown’s observation that vulnerability is connected to joy, gratitude, and grace. Why do you think vulnerability is necessary for authentic community?
• What risks are involved in loving others deeply or allowing yourself to be known by a community?
• How can churches create spaces where people feel safe bringing their whole selves — including doubts, grief, questions, and struggles?

3. Hospitality and Welcoming Others

• Pastor Mark describes the importance of making room for guests, newcomers, and introverts within the life of the church. Why can this sometimes be difficult for established communities?
• The sermon contrasts two ways of entering a room: “Here I am” versus “Ah, there you are.” What is the difference between those two postures?
• When have you experienced radical welcome or hospitality in a faith community? How did it affect you?

4. Remembering the Outsider

• Paul never forgot what it meant to be an outsider before encountering the love of Christ. Why is it important for churches to remember the perspective of newcomers and outsiders?
• Pastor Mark says that making room for people with different experiences and perspectives does not impoverish a community — it enriches it. How have you seen diversity of experience strengthen a church or community?
• Are there ways churches unintentionally make people feel excluded or unseen? What changes can help create deeper belonging?

5. Beloved Community and Honest Faith

• The sermon reminds us that confession is necessary because “without confession, forgiveness and repair cannot occur.” Why is honesty about our failures important for spiritual growth?
• As RPPC celebrates 125 years, Pastor Mark encourages both gratitude for the past and honesty about the parts of history we might rather avoid. Why is this balance important for communities of faith?
• What does it mean to you to help build “the beloved community” in today’s divided world?

6. Applying the Sermon

• What is one concrete way you can practice hospitality or make room for someone this week?
• How can we become the kind of church community that says, “Ah, there you are” to those who walk through our doors?
• What part of this sermon challenged or encouraged you most personally?

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We continue in our journey through the Narrative Lectionary here at Roland Park Presbyterian Church. We follow something called the Narrative Lectionary, which takes us through the narrative arc of scripture.

In this new year, we are in the Gospel of John. We’ve been there for several weeks now, and we’re getting used to John’s world and John’s view of things—and the various themes that John uses in the stories.

And in particular, for today, how focused John is in telling the story of Jesus—how often it is through the vehicle of one-on-one relationships. We saw this over the past several weeks.

The Sunday that we missed was the Sunday with Nicodemus. And then last Sunday was the woman at the well. And those were meant to be kind of read in comparison and contrast. And it’s striking to me how often the relationship in John’s Gospel is the focus.

John 4: 46-54

Then he came again to Cana in Galilee, where he had changed the water into wine. Now there was a royal official whose son lay ill in Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus had come from Judea to Galilee, he went and begged him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. Then Jesus said to him, “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.”  The official said to him, “Sir, come down before my little boy dies.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your son will live.” The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and started on his way.¹ As he was going down, his slaves met him and told him that his child was alive. So he asked them the hour when he began to recover, and they said to him, “Yesterday at one in the afternoon the fever left him.”  The father realized that this was the hour when Jesus had said to him, “Your son will live.” So he himself believed, along with his whole household.  Now this was the second sign that Jesus did after coming from Judea to Galilee.

For the Word of God in scripture,
For the Word of God among us,
For the Word of God within us,
Thanks be to God.

***

‘It’s a radical claim we Christians make—that Jesus is the Son of God, fully human and fully divine,” writes my friend (and former golf partner before he rudely moved out of town), the Reverend Roger Scott Powers. He continues, “Without Jesus, my view of God remains a blurry abstraction—God as mysterious, invisible, creative life force behind the universe. But with Jesus, that blurry, abstract God comes into greater focus. God becomes clearer and more concrete to me. He makes the invisible visible, the infinite finite. With Jesus, I feel closer to God and the divine.”

Now, all four of the Gospel writers claim that Jesus is, as it has been said, a mirror of our humanity and a window into divinity. In other words, Jesus is clearly like us. He has friends and family. He eats and drinks. He travels and talks to people. He experiences emotions.

But they all claim that he is something more as well—that when he speaks, he reveals the mind of God, and when he acts, he shows us the character of God.

We know of John’s fondness for signs. What the other Gospels call miracles, John calls signs. The first occurred at the wedding at Cana. It wasn’t planned, but circumstances—and his mother, if you recall—dictated Jesus’ actions.

When the wine runs out at the wedding, Jesus has them fetch the jars of water for handwashing, and then he instructs the steward to draw water out from the jug. And when he does—it is changed into wine.

And John calls that the first sign.

In today’s reading, Jesus returns to Cana, where a royal official approaches him and asks him to follow him home so Jesus can heal his son.

Jesus tells the man to return home—that his son will indeed live. And the man heads home, only to be met by servants running to tell him the good news—that his son is better after all.

Then, just to make sure that we get it, John tells us that the father asked when the boy’s fever broke—only to find out that it’s precisely the time when he was talking to Jesus.

What are we to make of this?

Healing stories are tricky, aren’t they? Because not all fevers break. Not all sons recover.

Which makes us wonder—is there a criterion for healing? Do we have to have a strong faith? Live the right kind of life? Is it random? Just plain luck? To be in the right place at the right time?

Honestly, the Gospel writers don’t give us much help with these questions. They seem to be just as lost as the rest of us. But they certainly seem to want to take our merit out of the equation.

In other words, they view healing as a gift, not an achievement.

When it does not occur, it does not mean that God withdraws God’s love and care. Quite the opposite—as we’ll soon encounter in John’s Gospel when Jesus’ own friend Lazarus is not spared, and we are told: Jesus weeps.

What stands out to me in this story—and in many of the healing stories we encounter in the Gospels—is that it is often someone else who approaches Jesus on behalf of the one needing healing.

And it’s rather blatant in today’s story, right? Because the boy isn’t even present—far from it. It sounds like he’s about a day’s travel away.

But the father approaches Jesus on behalf of the son. He intervenes. He advocates for him.

And it’s plain to see why—his well-being is wrapped up in his son’s. What impacts that boy impacts the father.

And we see this pattern in the first sign story as well—thinking back to the wedding at Cana. Jesus never touches the water. He never touches the jars. Heck, it wasn’t even his idea in the first place. It was his mother’s idea. Then the servants and stewards did what was asked.

If Jesus is a mirror to our humanity and a window to God’s divinity, then what does this say about God?

Presumably, God can get along just fine without us. But God chooses not to be God without us.

We are brought into the equation not because we are necessary, but because we are God-loved.

In his Letter from a Birmingham Jail, Martin Luther King Jr. writes:

“Human progress never rolls in on the wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts of those willing to be co-workers with God. And without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always right to do what is right.”

Friends, we don’t have to save the world. It’s not our job.

But it is our job to love one another—and in so doing, to be co-workers with God for the healing of the world.

It is a radical claim that we Christians make—that God so loved the world that God sent his only Son, not to condemn the world, but that we might have life, and have it abundantly through him.

You know, I don’t know about you, but I used to get really hung up on that title: Son of God—until I realized two things.

The first is that Jesus was not the first one to walk around with that title.

It was the title for Caesar.

So as an early Christian, to claim that Jesus is the Son of God means that Caesar is not.

The other thing I eventually realized is that the title reveals a theological reality, not a biological one.

In that sense, we are all sons and daughters and children of God—even Caesar.

We can acknowledge that someone is broken—and that they are still loved by God.

We can see someone who is so blinded by hate—and still respond in love and kindness, without being a doormat.

Sometimes, the most loving thing to do is simply to ignore someone.

Other times, we must speak the truth in love—and demand accountability.

Friends, we’ve seen evidence that racism and sexism and all sorts of prejudice and hate have made it to the highest office in our country—not for the first time, and maybe not the last.

It’s true, the most recent manifestation seems particularly poignant in our hyper-connected world.

It can feel at times as though the very fabric of our society is being pulled apart.

And what is particularly alarming for me as a person of faith is that it’s all being cloaked in Christianity—a Christianity that I do not recognize, that looks nothing like the Jesus I read about in the Gospels or have experienced through the various communities of faith that have shaped me, including this one.

So friends, what I want to say to you today is really very simple:

Thank you for all the ways that you have been co-workers with God in building up a beloved community in this time and place—and through it, advocating for a more just world.

Furthermore, I want to offer a word of encouragement for us to all keep working.

Keep on loving and advocating for others.

It does make a difference. It does matter.

We must continue to work with God until the day when we all fully recognize, beyond the shadow of any doubt, that every one of us—every last one of us—is a son, is a daughter, is a beloved child of God.

Amen.

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