A New Commandment
April 24, 2016
Christ Church Episcopal, Norcross, GA
5th Sunday of Easter – 8:00 am service
Acts 11:1-18; Revelation 21:1-6; John 13:31-35
Earlier this month, on April 4th, I was listening to NPR as I was getting ready for my day. They were talking about this day being the anniversary of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Each year, as part of the retelling of that story, an excerpt from his final speech, given the night before, is always included.
The year was 1968 and King was in Memphis, Tennessee speaking on behalf of the sanitation workers, among other things. In his speech he shared that the flight out of Atlanta that morning had been delayed because, knowing that King would be on-board, they had taken extra security measures to ensure the plane and its contents hadn’t been tampered with. King had also heard of threats after arriving in Memphis. Yet, in his speech on April 3rd, he ended with these familiar words:

“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop.
And I don’t mind.
Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!
And so I’m happy, tonight.
I’m not worried about anything.
I’m not fearing any man!
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!!”[i]
This thing just got real
January 17, 2016
Christ Church Episcopal, Norcross, GA
2nd Sunday after Epiphany
Isaiah 62:1-5; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11; John 2:1-11
(Gospel text is provided at the bottom of this post)
When I was preparing for today’s sermon, I wondered why this miracle story is included as part of the Epiphany narrative. Now, I realize that it’s the first miracle presented in John’s gospel. It’s also a popular story about Jesus changing water into wine, so it’s got that going for it!
We like the idea that Jesus was the one who pulled-off this miracle so that the wedding celebration could continue… the ultimate party guest, providing more wine; even BETTER wine, for what would have been a multi-day festivity.
But there’s something very different going on here. This miracle is the act that propelled Jesus into the spotlight. This was the moment of broader revelation – the Epiphany moment – in John’s gospel. The brevity of the story-telling masks the magnitude of what has happened – perhaps not to its earliest audiences – but certainly to us today.
The story begins by telling us that Jesus and his disciples are at a wedding in Cana and that Jesus’ mother is there, too. When she learns that the wine has run-out, she tells Jesus. Now, his response seems to imply that she’s expecting him to do something about the situation. He says “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.”
Wow, that’s a little harsh. And I’d guess that most of you mothers in the congregation are a little insulted by this reply, if you’re still listening at all. But, Jesus’ mother doesn’t seem bothered by it. She simply turns to the servants and says, “Do whatever he tells you.”
With Arms Wide Open
December 20, 2015
Christ Church Episcopal, Norcross, GA
The 4th Sunday in Advent
Micah 5:2-5a; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-55
(Gospel text is provided at the bottom of this post)
Three years ago I preached on this same passage from Luke’s gospel. I had just been ordained to the Transitional Diaconate a week earlier, and was back in Houston for Christmas break. I had been invited to serve as Deacon – for the first time – at St. Andrew’s, the parish that helped me on my vocational journey. I was a bit nervous and also thrilled to finally be doing what God had called me to do.
That day three years ago had begun three years before that. That’s when I made the decision to leave all that was familiar; to leave mother and father, brother and sisters and the rest of my family and friends. I left places of comfort, including the parish of St. Andrews, to embark on a new thing, in an unfamiliar place, where “what’s next” couldn’t be fully grasped.

St. Andrew’s Episcopal
So, to return to a familiar place after being ordained, surrounded by loved ones, those who supported me from afar, and to serve at that familiar altar – it was pretty surreal. I’m guessing Gretchen has some of these same feelings today, and I’m excited to see what the future holds for her.





