Discussion Questions: 

1. Paying Attention to the Overlooked
   o In Acts 16, the enslaved girl speaks the truth about Paul and Silas, yet her story quickly disappears from the narrative. What do you notice about her role in the passage?
   o Who are the people in our communities, churches, workplaces, or families whose stories are too easily overlooked?

2. Paul, Silas, and Imperfect Faithfulness
   o The sermon names both Paul’s faithfulness in prison and his failure to fully attend to the enslaved girl. How does this more complicated picture of Paul help you think about your own faith?
   o Why is it important to tell the truth about both the good and the harmful parts of our actions, even when our intentions are faithful?

3. Liberation and Responsibility
   o Paul and Silas are freed from prison, but they do not run away. Instead, they stay and care for the jailer. What does this teach us about liberation, compassion, and responsibility?
   o Where might God be calling you to stay present with someone who is afraid, ashamed, or trapped in a harmful system?

4. Seeing Others as God Sees Them
   o Pastor Mark reminds us that “no one is unimportant in God’s eyes. No one is overlooked. No one is unloved.” How does this challenge the way we see others?
   o Isaiah’s words, “You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you,” are spoken over all people. What changes when we begin from that truth?

5. Applying the Sermon
   o This week, how can you make room for someone else’s story, especially someone whose voice is often dismissed or minimized?
   o As a church pursuing justice, practicing hospitality, and engaging curious faith, how can RPPC better notice, honor, and protect those who are too often pushed to the margins?

The post Sermon Discussion Guide: What Is Her Story? appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

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.

The post Co-Workers with God appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.