Well, last week in our reading, the Israelites were on the cusp of the promised land, and they were looking back and reflecting on all the things that had happened and all of the people who had worked so hard to get them where they are.

But what happens when you get everything that you ever wanted? Well, usually we want more, right?

And the people wanted more. They wanted to be like their neighbors around them who all had kings. And God tried to dissuade them from this notion, saying, “No, no. You can all live together happily with me as your king.” And they said, “That’s nice, but we want one of us as king.” And so God reluctantly went along with their plan, and we find out today, in today’s reading, why that might not have been the best idea.

2 Samuel 11:1–5, 26–27; 12:1–9

In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab with his officers and all Israel with him; they ravaged the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem.

It happened, late one afternoon when David rose from his couch and was walking about on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful. David sent someone to inquire about the woman. It was reported, “This is Bathsheba daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.” So David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she was purifying herself after her period.) Then she returned to her house. The woman conceived, and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant.”

When the wife of Uriah heard that her husband was dead, she made lamentation for him. When the mourning was over, David sent and brought her to his house, and she became his wife and bore him a son.

But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord, and the Lord sent Nathan to David. He came to him and said to him, “There were two men in a certain city, the one rich and the other poor. The rich man had very many flocks and herds, but the poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb that he had bought. He brought it up, and it grew up with him and with his children; it used to eat of his meager fare and drink from his cup and lie in his bosom, and it was like a daughter to him. Now there came a traveler to the rich man, and he was loath to take one of his own flock or herd to prepare for the wayfarer who had come to him, but he took the poor man’s lamb and prepared that for the guest who had come to him.” Then David’s anger was greatly kindled against the man. He said to Nathan, “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die; he shall restore the lamb fourfold because he did this thing and because he had no pity.”

Nathan said to David, “You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: I anointed you king over Israel, and I rescued you from the hand of Saul; I gave you your master’s house and your master’s wives into your bosom and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah, and if that had been too little, I would have added as much more. Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil in his sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword and have taken his wife to be your wife and have killed him with the sword of the Ammonites.

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.

***

These days, it’s generally meant as a compliment, but in today’s passage, it’s more of an accusation. Nathan says to David, “You are the man.” But he’s not laying flowers at David’s feet. He’s calling him to account for his egregious abuse of power.

David, we know, is a biblical hero, one of the most important figures in Israel’s history. The Gospel writers make sure they can trace Jesus’ lineage back to David. That’s how important and well-regarded he is: king of Israel, player of the harp, writer of Psalms, and so much more.

David’s story begins humbly. The youngest and smallest of his brothers, forgotten and dismissed by everyone, including his own father, David is the ultimate underdog. And the story of David and Goliath still stands today as the ultimate underdog story, right?

But the scene that we just read happens much later in David’s life and career. He’s been in power now for a long time. People love him. Enemies fear him. His servants will do anything for him. Even he is beginning to believe the hype. The power and endless praise have gone to his head. He has started to think that he deserves all of it, that he is superior, that they are lucky to have him as their king.

And his relationship with God shifts as well. Where he was once grateful and humble and eager to serve, now he speaks to God as if they’re on the same plane, the same status.

Then Allie Rosner Bass writes, “It happens one evening when David’s troops are out to war. Kings were supposed to lead their armies into battle. David, however, stays home and is taking a stroll on the rooftop of his palace. Perhaps a clue that something is already wrong.”

And from his vantage point on the roof, David sees a beautiful woman bathing and is determined to have her. The whole affair is reported matter-of-factly in a terse sequence of verbs: David sends for her, she comes, he lies with her, she returns.

And as if this is not bad enough on its own, David knows that the woman, Bathsheba, is married to one of his generals, Uriah. But that doesn’t stop him. Quite to the contrary, when Bathsheba confronts him with the consequences of what he has done, saying to him, “I’m pregnant,” David doubles down.

Instead of confessing his fault and seeking to make amends, he sends Uriah to the front of the battle lines with instructions for his troops to pull back and leave him stranded, essentially getting the enemy troops to do his dirty work for him.

When word returns that Uriah has been killed, David then brings Bathsheba into his house. To those looking in from the outside, this may seem incredibly generous and magnanimous on David’s part—to take this poor widow and her family and give them a home after what has happened to her husband, the war hero Uriah. But those who know what truly happened, including us, know David’s shame and guilt. He is a rapist, an abuser, a murderer, and a despot.

But here’s the real question we’re likely to miss if we’re too distracted by the bawdy and scandalous tale: Why does the Bible include this at all? It certainly doesn’t reflect well on David, one of Israel’s greatest figures and heroes.

“You are the man,” Nathan says to David, but he’s not offering a compliment. He has just told David a story about someone seeing something that didn’t belong to him, but he took it nonetheless. And upon hearing this in the abstract, David’s sense of justice is offended. How dare he do such a thing? Bring him to me so that I can set things right.

But Nathan says to him, “No, you are the man. It’s you, the wrongdoer. You have violated God’s justice. You assaulted Bathsheba. You killed Uriah. And you lied to the people, and you lied to yourself.”

It took Nathan telling David a story, supposedly about someone else, for him to see the truth. But do you get what that means about David? David still knows right from wrong. When he hears it in the abstract, he knows what justice requires. He just has become distant from it because of his power and his privilege.

Bass writes, “The story presents a cautionary tale about the dangers of power. David, securely ensconced in his palace and confident of his absolute authority, sees something he wants and makes it his.”

And the prophet Samuel had warned of this when the Israelite elders first came asking for a king. A king, he said, will take your sons for his army and your daughters as his servants. He will take your fields and your vineyards and your cattle and your sheep. That’s from 1 Samuel, chapter 8. Now Samuel’s warnings appear to be coming true.

In other words, this is actually less about David and his character and more about the fact that the people wanted to have a king like the other nations. God’s warning about how power can corrupt even the purest of people is at odds with the people’s desire to cede their agency to someone else. They don’t want the responsibility of governing. They want someone else to tell them what to do.

While attractive for the short term, over time things erode and temptation becomes too great. You start to believe the hype. People want to do things for you. You see an opportunity, and you look around and you ask, “Who’s going to stop me?” And not just that: “Who will even call me out on what I’m doing?”

No, they’ll praise me and tell me that I deserve it and that exceptions are made for the great ones.

And for the rest of us, we start off innocent as well. But then comfort starts to kick in, and we say things like, “Well, you know, too many cooks in the kitchen doesn’t really work,” or, “Someone has to take charge. Leaders lead, and the rest of us follow and obey.”

But soon disobedience starts to get called disloyalty, and we become afraid to speak truth to power. What will it cost us if we do? I don’t need a target on my back, thank you very much.

And soon it becomes easier to believe that those in power just operate from a different set of rules from the rest of us. “It’s not fair,” we might say, “but it is the way that it is.”

Now, unless you think that I’m starting to talk about current events from a purely partisan perspective, I do admit that I see this playing out in today’s politics. But—and I mean this sincerely—if your takeaway from today’s sermon is, “Mark was right, and those people really need to shape up and do better,” then I dare say you missed my point.

My point is that I think this is precisely why Scripture tells us this story about our beloved David—heroic David, humble and faithful David—because even he, even the very best among us, is not immune to this warning.

We are all David. We are not all Bathsheba and Nathan.

Let me put this another way. One of John Calvin’s most misunderstood teachings, perhaps even more than predestination, is that of total depravity. I know—Calvin sounds like such a fun guy, right?

When Calvin writes about total depravity, he doesn’t mean that each one of us is completely unredeemable or that some are wholly despicable, but that all of us—each and every one of us—are capable of depravity.

We’ll talk about this more next week, but we can’t simply divide humanity into sinners and saints. Rather, each of us is both at once. We are sinners capable of sainthood, and we are saints who sometimes sin.

So, what difference can all this make for us here and now?

Well, if you didn’t know, early voting started here in Maryland. If you don’t already have a plan to vote on or before November 3, please go home this afternoon and make one.

While it’s definitely not my job to tell you how to vote, I can and do urge you to use your voice. Like Bathsheba, like Nathan, use your voice. It can and does make a difference.

Engage politically. Research issues. Vote your values. Vote for people, not parties. And remember, you are voting for people, not demigods. No one is perfect. Everyone can and may be corrupted by power.

Regular people are rarely our enemies, and we should be much more suspicious of those who want to convince us that they are than of those regular people.

“Voting isn’t marriage; it’s public transport,” writes Paul Tambyah. “You’re not waiting for the one who’s absolutely perfect; you’re getting on a bus. And if there isn’t one going exactly to your destination, you don’t just stay home. You take the one going closest to where you want to be.”

And to this I would only add: Don’t just vote at the polls. Don’t just vote every couple of years. Vote consistently and intentionally with your time, your talent, and your treasure as well. Vote every day for the kind of world that you want.

But perhaps more important and fundamental than that, make sure that the world that you want at least in some way resembles what Jesus called the kingdom of God, which will stand when all other kingdoms have fallen: a kingdom where justice and mercy work in harmony; where all sin is held to account; where power is told the truth in love; and where every voice not only makes a difference, but it makes the difference.

To God be the power and glory and honor, now and always.

Amen.

The post Your Small Voice appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Main Themes: The corrupting danger of power, David’s abuse of Bathsheba and Uriah, truth-telling and accountability, complicity and self-examination, sin and sainthood, political participation, using our voices, and seeking God’s kingdom of justice and mercy.

Discussion Questions:

1. When Power Distorts

• Pastor Mark describes how David’s long experience of power and praise changed his understanding of himself and his relationship with God. What warning does David’s story offer anyone who holds authority, influence, or privilege?
• Where have you seen power create distance between what a person knows is right and what that person permits themselves to do?

2. Hearing “You Are the Man”

• David recognizes the injustice in Nathan’s story before he recognizes himself within it. Why is wrongdoing often easier to identify in the abstract—or in someone else—than in our own conduct?
• What kinds of stories, relationships, or practices can help us see truths about ourselves that we might otherwise avoid?

3. Sinners and Saints

• Pastor Mark says, “We are all David. We are not all Bathsheba and Nathan.” What does this claim ask us to acknowledge about our own capacity for harm, silence, or complicity?
• How does the idea that each of us is both sinner and saint challenge the temptation to divide the world neatly into good people and bad people?

4. Using Our Small Voices

• Nathan risked speaking truth to a powerful king, and Bathsheba named the consequences of what David had done. What makes it difficult to speak when power is being abused?
• Pastor Mark urges us to use our voices through political engagement while remembering that no candidate is a demigod. What might faithful, thoughtful participation look like without turning politics into another form of worship?

5. Applying the Sermon

• Pastor Mark invites us to “vote every day” with our time, talent, and treasure for the kind of world we want. What is one everyday choice through which you can support justice, mercy, accountability, or human dignity this week?
• Where might your small voice be needed right now—to tell the truth in love, support someone who has been silenced, or call power back to accountability?

The post Sermon Discussion Guide: Your Small Voice appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

We continue today with our sermon series on disputing with God. The past two sermons in this series have been on the book of Exodus, and in particular with Moses and the people, as they struggled in the wilderness and tried to remain faithful through that time of unknowing and uncertainty. In some ways, we’re kind of moving backward to Genesis 18, but one of the things I wanted to point out that maybe we don’t often think about is that we open the Bible and there’s Genesis at the beginning.

It starts with the creation story, and we think that’s a very natural beginning narratively. But in terms of the way that the Bible was constructed, Exodus, and the Exodus experience of the people being released from slavery in Egypt and God liberating them, is actually kind of the beginning point of the story of the people of God, the Hebrew and Israel. But the book of Genesis then is kind of the prequel.

So it’s kind of like around Christmas time I’ll remind us that, you know, it wasn’t that the story of Jesus’ birth was written down at the time of Jesus’ birth. It was written years and years later, hundreds of years later, really, once people had kind of understood the importance of Jesus’ life and they said, “Gee, I wonder how he was born. We should figure that out and tell that story.” In the same way, also, the people who are liberated from Egypt say, “Well, gee, how did this all come about?”

And so they go back and they tell the stories that we have in Genesis. Most of the stories in Genesis, of course, revolve around a man named Abraham and his wife Sarah. Just preceding the passage that we are about to read, God has come to them, and this is just to help us kind of orient overall into the big picture. This is after Noah and the Ark and the flood, and then the rainbow, and God has promised never to again destroy the earth.

Then God seeks to begin again with this project that God is trying to carry out through humanity and says, Abraham and his wife, that’s where I’m going to start. I’m going to build a nation through them. And even in their old age, then God comes and visits them with two strangers. Abraham and Sarah open up their home to them, welcome them, feed them, and come to find out that they are messengers from God and that they are God’s chosen people to begin again and that through them, even though they are old, they will have many descendants, as many as the stars in the sky.

And then from there, the two visitors go out and we pick up the story from there in Genesis 18. This translation just calls them the men. Other translations might have visitors or even angels.

Genesis 18: 16-33                                                                                                                                 

Then the men set out from there, and they looked toward Sodom, and Abraham went with them to set them on their way. The Lord said, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, seeing that Abraham shall become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? No, for I have chosen him, that he may charge his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing righteousness and justice, so that the Lord may bring about for Abraham what he has promised him.” Then the Lord said, “How great is the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah and how very grave their sin! I must go down and see whether they have done altogether according to the outcry that has come to me, and if not, I will know.”

So the men turned from there and went toward Sodom, while Abraham remained standing before the Lord. Then Abraham came near and said, “Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city; will you then sweep away the place and not forgive it for the fifty righteous who are in it? Far be it from you to do such a thing, to slay the righteous with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?” And the Lord said, “If I find at Sodom fifty righteous in the city, I will forgive the whole place for their sake.” Abraham answered, “Let me take it upon myself to speak to my lord, I who am but dust and ashes. Suppose five of the fifty righteous are lacking? Will you destroy the whole city for lack of five?” And he said, “I will not destroy it if I find forty-five there.” Again he spoke to him, “Suppose forty are found there.” He answered, “For the sake of forty I will not do it.” Then he said, “Oh, do not let my lord be angry if I speak. Suppose thirty are found there.” He answered, “I will not do it, if I find thirty there.” He said, “Let me take it upon myself to speak to my lord. Suppose twenty are found there.” He answered, “For the sake of twenty I will not destroy it.” Then he said, “Oh, do not let my lord be angry if I speak just once more. Suppose ten are found there.” He answered, “For the sake of ten I will not destroy it.” And the Lord went his way, when he had finished speaking to Abraham, and Abraham returned to his place.

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.

***

Genesis 18, the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, is perhaps one of the most misunderstood passages of the entire Bible. The two towns or cities become the focus of God’s anger because of their wickedness. Yet the exact nature of the wickedness is never specifically mentioned.

There’s mention of the way they treat outsiders, how they abuse them and mistreat them. There are certainly accounts of assault and violence. And of course, we all know that this passage has been used over the centuries to shame and exclude and other people of same-sex attraction. People who want to oppose homosexuality from a religious viewpoint point to this passage as their source to affirm homosexuality is a sin.

Now, given the sensitive nature of this topic, I don’t want to feel the need to move down this path, but let me just say this: To equate the actions of any two people in love with that of a violent assault of someone on a stranger does not hold water. It just doesn’t.

So let me relate this to more current events. The New York Knickerbockers—I like to say the whole name, the Knickerbockers—won the NBA championship for the first time in 53 years this past week.

And Knicks fans have lined the city streets in celebration. And as there is any time people drink and celebrate in public, fights have broken out. These fights have nothing to do with being a Knicks fan or a basketball fan and everything to do with being drunk and probably way overstimulated.

We would never say that God is angry with all Knicks fans because of these incidents. The only people who would say that are people who are already not Knicks fans. They will see these incidents as backing their bias. But the bias already existed.

Likewise, nobody reading Genesis 18 would come to the conclusion that God disapproves of same-sex relationships except for those who are already biased against gays and lesbians. It is the violence and assault that deserves God’s anger. Period. That is it.

Those who would use this passage to defend their bigotry or worse, their own physical violence or verbal violence against those with whom they disagree are actually guilty of the very thing that put Sodom and Gomorrah in God’s crosshairs in the first place.

When we widen out and read this story in context, we realize that the real issue at the heart of the passage is hospitality to strangers.

Hospitality to strangers, you see, is a biblical mandate. It could not be more clear. The Bible drives home this point time and time again. You take care of the stranger in your midst, the foreigner or the alien in your country. Why? Again, it goes back to that origin point for the Hebrew people because you were once strangers yourself. You were once foreigners in a foreign land, and you know what it’s like to be mistreated.

Right before the passage we read for today, as I explained in the setup, Abraham and Sarah offer hospitality to strangers. Strangers, who it turns out, were messengers or angels sent from God. And because Abraham and Sarah showed kindness to strangers and welcomed the foreigners into their home and fed and cared for them, God chooses them to begin again after the flood.

And in this passage, God makes a covenant with Abraham. God says, I will be your God, and you will be my people. He tells Abraham that through him he will build a great nation as numerous as the stars.

But this is the second covenant that God makes. The first one is after Noah and the flood, where God says, I will never again wipe out all the people because of their sin.

Now, as soon as the covenant is made, who do we expect to break it?

Abraham, right?

And don’t worry, Abraham makes his own mistakes. But biblically speaking, God is the first to be tempted to violate the terms of the covenant. Did you catch it? When God hears about the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah and the way they treat strangers, God decides to wipe them out. Well, that would break both covenants, wouldn’t it?

So God wonders, seemingly out loud, should I just go ahead and do it, but not tell Abraham?

Wow. That’s really interesting, isn’t it?

We think we’re the ones who should be afraid of God’s judgment. But according to Genesis, God seems to be a little bit afraid of Abraham’s judgments, not the other way around.

This is a turning point in Scripture and the basis for our faith and trust in God. To paraphrase the great Swiss theologian Karl Barth, we may choose to live without God. Humanity may prefer a godless existence. But God never chooses to live without us.

Perhaps the central characteristic and identity of the triune God is the refusal to ever be without humanity.

So one way to read this story of Sodom and Gomorrah, a good way I think, is to understand that this is actually a test for God. Prior to Abraham, God was free to do whatever God wanted to do. But now, now God is bound by the covenant that God has made.

God knows that if he lets Abraham in on his plan, Abraham will disapprove. And indeed he does. Abraham says, what if there are 50 righteous who live in these towns? Will you spare them then? God says yes, if there are 50. What about 45? 30, 20, 10.

Just, by the way, footnote, this is where the notion of a minyan comes from. A minyan is that ten people are required for certain prayers in the Jewish tradition. You have to have a minyan. And so, you know, there are some times where there’s a group that might be joining at a synagogue and there’s eight of them and they have to go out and flag down two other Jews to come in and have a minyan so that they can have prayers. That’s where this comes from: If there are ten, I will not destroy the city.

Like Moses, Abraham convinces God to show mercy. But let’s be clear, it’s not the case that God is vengeful and has to be convinced to show mercy. Rather, it is that God is merciful. But sometimes in the midst of anger, God forgets God’s self. It has to be reminded of God’s true nature.

Now it has been said to those who believe, no explanation is necessary, those who do not believe, no explanation will satisfy. I’m not sure if I buy that 100%, but I think it makes a good point. If we are inclined to faith, if we have a sense that we are a part of something bigger, if we believe that there is a benevolent presence that infuses the universe with life and meaning, we don’t need the Bible to convince us.

Rather, the Bible helps us work out what kind of God we believe in. And rather than just telling us what kind of God is, the Bible tells us stories about God that were shared throughout human history of people working out what kind of God is, considering what we know about God and what we know about the world. And if we approach the Bible this way, what we actually find is a treasure chest of the world’s biggest ideas and questions.

I mean, how limited and unhelpful is the interpretation that Genesis 18 is about how two people choose to share their love and affection. How mean-spirited and harmful is that interpretation? And what does it say about God?

Nothing good.

But it was the early Christian theologian and philosopher Augustine of Hippo who wrote, “whoever then thinks that he understands the Holy Scriptures or any part of them, but puts such an interpretation upon them as does not tend to build up this twofold love of God and neighbor, does not yet understand them as he ought.” In other words, if your interpretation of Scripture doesn’t lead you to love God and neighbor more, you have not yet understood Scripture correctly.

If your understanding of Scripture does not lead you to love God and neighbor more, you have not yet understood it correctly. Conversely, as the quote on our bulletin cover today states, “Hate, it appears, is the heresy.”

Friends, what I’m trying to get at here is that faith is not some static statement of beliefs to which we choose to ascribe or not. Not. Faith is a living, evolving relationship with God and one another. Faith, to put it in the language of the book of Genesis, is the living out of the covenant between God and humanity. “Faith,” writes Madeleine Lengel, “is what makes life bearable with all of its tragedies and ambiguities and sudden, startling joys.”

And one of the many ambiguities we encounter in life is the very issue of Sodom and Gomorrah. Not human sexuality, but how justice and mercy relate to one another. Because God has a point here. As much as we don’t want to admit it, I mean in the abstract, it’s easy to agree with Abraham. It’s not right to punish the innocent along with the guilty. That’s not fair. That’s not justice.

But neither is it fair to the innocent to leave the wicked go unpunished or unchecked, right? Bobby Williamson points out “there’s no discussion here about simply stopping the wickedness in one way or another. Or even just eliminating the people perpetuating wickedness while leaving the righteous alone.” That’s never even on the table. The assumption here is that they are all in it together. “But if mercy in this case basically means ignoring the land’s outcry and letting the wickedness stand, what does that say? And what does it mean for the innocent who continue to live there?” And he concludes with this: “In a modern society that so values individual autonomy, how do we think about the ways in which our fates are inextricably tied?”

Now that is a question worth wrestling with, don’t you agree? That will get us a lot further down the road than judging what we think about the way that two people love one another. How do justice and mercy relate? And how are our fates intertwined? With one another.

I don’t have answers to that. But I think that’s what we’re supposed to be wrestling with as people of faith.

It’s an odd notion to me that our image of God that we receive as children would not continue to grow and change with us as we get older and experience more of life in the world. We need an adult image of God to carry with us, to walk with us in this complicated and confusing world. But so many of us were never given permission, or whatever, to allow our notion of God to evolve, to wrestle with it in meaningful ways. And so we look like people who are trying to engage this complicated world with this very rudimentary image of God.

So if you’ve never received permission to wrestle with the image of God that you carry with you, please, please consider this sermon series your sign. Permission is granted. God welcomes your questions, your doubts, and your challenges because God has decided not to be God without you. So take it on good authority. Not mine, two guys named Moses and Abraham.

Amen.

The post Disputing with God: Advocating for Others appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.

Discussion Questions:

1. Reading Genesis 18 in Context:
   ● The sermon describes Genesis 18 and the story of Sodom and Gomorrah as one of the most misunderstood passages in the Bible. What interpretations of this story have you heard before?
   ● How does reading the story through the lens of hospitality, violence, and the treatment of strangers change the way you understand it?
2. Practicing Hospitality:
   ● The sermon emphasizes that hospitality to strangers is a biblical mandate. Why do you think Scripture returns to this theme so often?
   ● Where do you see opportunities for RPPC to practice deeper hospitality in our church, neighborhood, and wider community?
3. Scripture, Love, and Harm:
   ● Pastor Mark challenges interpretations of this passage that have been used to shame or exclude LGBTQIA+ people. How can communities of faith repair harm caused by harmful readings of Scripture?
   ● Augustine wrote that if our interpretation of Scripture does not lead us to love God and neighbor more, we have not understood it correctly. How might this guide the way we read difficult biblical passages?
4. God’s Covenant and Mercy:
   ● The sermon suggests that Genesis 18 shows God being held accountable to the covenant God has made with humanity. What does that image of God stir up for you?
   ● Abraham speaks honestly with God, asking whether the righteous should be swept away with the wicked. What does this conversation teach us about prayer, courage, and trust?
5. Justice, Mercy, and Our Intertwined Lives:
   ● The sermon raises a hard question: How do justice and mercy relate to one another? Where do you feel that tension in your own life or in the world around us?
   ● Pastor Mark asks how we think about the ways our fates are “inextricably tied.” What does that mean for how we live as neighbors, citizens, and people of faith?
6. Faith That Wrestles:
   ● The sermon says faith is not a static statement of beliefs, but a living, evolving relationship with God and one another. How has your understanding of God changed over time?
   ● Have you ever felt like you needed permission to question or wrestle with your image of God? What helps make a faith community safe for honest questions?
7. Applying the Sermon:
   ● What is one way you can practice hospitality to someone who feels like an outsider this week?
   ● How can RPPC continue to be a place where all are welcome, where questions are honored, and where love of God and neighbor shapes how we read Scripture?

The post Sermon Discussion Guide: Disputing with God: Advocating for others appeared first on Roland Park Presbyterian Church.