But there is a story that we don’t love about Dolly, and it deserves to be told just as much as the others, maybe even more.

Many know that Dolly’s song, I Will Always Love You, was written to mark the end of Dolly’s professional relationship with her longtime music partner, Porter Wagoner, with whom she recorded numerous Top Ten hits and one #1.

Dolly and Porter’s relationship was fine for as long as she played her assigned part. But Dolly was more than a “pretty little girl singer,” and Porter felt threatened. Their relationship deteriorated as he tried to assert more control over her. As the story goes, when she realized she had to leave, she wrote the song and the next morning walked into his office and sang it for him. When she finished, Porter said, “That’s the best song you ever wrote. I guess you can go, if I can produce the record.” So, he produced the record and she left.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Porter sued Dolly, claiming he was entitled to manage her for five years, that during that time she couldn’t enter into any contract concerning her musical career without his written approval, and that he should be given a percentage of her earnings. Dolly decided to settle, agreeing to pay him a million dollars for her freedom, which took her years and years to pay off. In the meantime, Porter went on a public spree of character defamation, saying in interviews that he would never trust her with anything, that she stole from him, and that Dolly would turn her back on her own family to help herself.

By all accounts, Porter was Dolly’s enemy.

But in 1981, Porter was dropped from his label, and the IRS came after him. Instead of returning the favor of character defamation and wondering aloud where all the money she had to pay him went, Dolly took seriously Paul’s letter to the Romans: “Beloveds, never avenge yourselves. . .” Dolly kept her mouth shut about her enemy.

But she also didn’t let him suffer. Instead, she did what the rest of the passage instructs: “If your enemies are hungry, feed them. . . overcome evil with good.” Dolly bought Porter’s publishing company and then gave it back to him. As Dolly recounted in an interview, she saw that he needed the money, she had it, so she gave it. It was something she could do for him, despite what he had done to her.

If we are honest, we do not love Dolly for this. We would rather focus on the good she did for people who deserved it, not for someone who was terrible to her. This story invites us to reconsider what we’re capable of, and we do not love Dolly for putting us on the spot like this.

Note that “feeding one’s enemies” is not that same as “trusting, excusing, or enabling one’s enemies.” It is not to be confused with sentimental toleration of harm or staying in an abusive relationship. It is possible to overcome evil with good while enforcing healthy boundaries. Porter did not then become a regular part of Dolly’s life. Dolly just knew she was supposed to do the good she could, even for someone who had done her wrong. For the Bible told her so.

We’ll be hearing stories for a long time about how Dolly lived out the Christian ethics that she read about in what she referred to as The Good Book.

I wonder, though, if people can tell by our living that we’re also reading that same book?

We will always love you, Dolly. Especially when we don’t.

Six months of recording worship on Thursdays, and “premiering” it on Sunday mornings.

Six months of preaching in an empty room.

Six months of social distancing from everyone.

Six months of extra worry about the folks who depend on a handshake or hug on Sundays as the only human contact they get all week, even without a pandemic.

It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time for everyone, and I felt it deeply not just as a person, but also as a pastor.

Even not knowing that it would be nine more months of this routine, I knew we needed something. Something to look forward to, that could focus our attention, that could make us feel a shared connection to joy and hope.

My treasured colleas with whom I shared the chancel (even when we couldn’t be on the chancel at the same time) and I needed something to keep us pulling in the same direction, something that would challenge us theologically and musically in the best ways.

We had never done a music and theology sermon series, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

But really, it’s not just in desperate times that we need songs and stories that tell us the Good News. We need them in all seasons (not that these aren’t desperate times - just in a different way than during Covid).

So what you’ll find in the links below are the entire worship services we recorded those four Sundays. Sure, you can skip to the sermon, but I hope you’ll tap in from the beginning to join in the prayers, joys and concerns, and music all the way through.

The Gospel According to Dolly Parton: 9 to 5

The Gospel According to Dolly Parton: Jolene

The Gospel According to Dolly Parton: I Will Always Love You

The Gospel According to Dolly Parton: Light of a Clear Blue Morning:

In 2023, I testified in front of Oklahoma’s Virtual Charter School Board, now combined with the state’s Charter School Board. Dr. Franklin was the chair at the time.

The atmosphere was incredibly tense. Oklahoma was set to establish the nation’s first tax payer funded religious charter school. Former State Superintendent Ryan Walters was in attendance, with his wingman, Matt Langston, lurking in the back corner.

My purpose that day was to ask the board to reject the application submitted by the Catholic Archdiocese of Oklahoma City and the Diocese of Tulsa to create the St. Isidore of Seville Virtual Catholic Charter School as an online public charter school. In short, the board heard from me as someone who is an unbridled enthusiast for education (I have six degrees) and an equally unbridled enthusiast for the separation of church and state (I am an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ). My comments focused on the nature of public charter schools as taxpayer-funded public schools, which must comply with the U.S. Constitution, the Oklahoma Constitution, and state law, meaning public schools remain neutral on issues of religion. This fundamental safeguard is critical to protecting religious freedom and is part of the rich history and tradition of our state and country. But in their original application, St. Isidore had stated explicitly that the school would participate in the “evangelizing mission of the Church” and would be “an environment in which Christian education is carried out.”

After public comment closed, Ryan Walters was given the mic. He spent most of his time denigrating and misrepresenting my testimony, along with the comments of other citizens and concerned stakeholders, loudly and emotionally accusing us of being extremists and anti-Catholic. Even though none of us were surprised by this because of his track record of unethical and unprofessional behavior, it was still awful.

What I did not expect was for Dr. Franklin to go on the record to refute Walter’s claim that those who spoke at the meeting were pushing radical positions and attacking the Catholic Church. It would have been far easier to have said nothing. He could have pretended it didn’t matter. It would have been understandable to stay out of the line of fire. Instead, Dr. Franklin rebuked the false characterization of our remarks. He defended me, someone who he had never met, because it was the right thing to do.

There are many factors to consider when voting for a candidate. I sincerely hope this story helps to inform the choice of those who have a say in the Republican primary for state superintendent. The candidate advancing from the runoff moves another step closer to holding an office with significant power and responsibility. May we give the job to someone who has proven their integrity and honesty. We need leadership that does the right thing because it’s the right thing. On August 25th, when I’m voting on the state questions on my ballot, I’ll also be holding hope that the rest of you will be choosing to give our children the leadership they deserve.

Find what’s on your ballot here: https://oklahoma.gov/elections/ovp.html

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Which is why he recently announced that he would be entering the WNBA draft because the league’s collective bargaining agreement (CBA) allows anyone who declares themselves to be a woman is eligible. But as Jemele Hill noted, “Enes Kanter declaring for the WNBA draft reminds me of that episode in The Office where Michael Scott shouted, ‘I declare bankruptcy’ in the middle of the office because he thought that’s what the phrase meant.” Kanter’s antics prove he is both ignorant and unqualified to speak on the matter.

That his ignorance and lack of qualification didn’t keep him from popping off reflects poorly on Oklahoma because it appears he was taking notes from our legislators, governor, and “business community” on how men remain undefeated in making themselves the greatest impediment to women’s health, wellness, and quality of life.

The argument against trans athletes is almost always couched in the idea that women need protection from having to compete against men. The devotion to this argument persists, despite evidence-based facts: while no unified national count exists of transgender athletes in high school, around 3% of high school students identify as transgender, and an even tinier percentage of that demographic participate in sports. In NCAA sports, leadership has cited fewer than 10 known transgender athletes among about 510,000 participants (.0019%). Moreover, policies requiring hormone therapy before trans athletes can compete have been in place for years. In the last 30 years, there has been a grand total of one trans athlete to play in the WNBA.

In short, trans athletes are not overwhelming our sports programs, nor are they specifically harming girls’ and women’s sports at any level. Occasionally, someone will argue that keeping trans athletes out of sports is about fairness to women, but they then refuse to acknowledge the above-mentioned facts regarding participation rates and long-standing policies that address parity. Unfortunately, those facts and policies do not prevent Enes Kanter Freedom trying to prove his manhood in silly and attention-seeking ways.

None of this has ever been about “protecting women’s sports” or fairness. It’s a distraction from the pressing moral question of what we are doing to shape a society that treats women as capable, competent, and worthy. Bullying trans athletes is necessary when you don’t want people to notice the concerted efforts by the supermajority GOP legislature, GOP governor, and male dominated “business community” to strip women of bodily autonomy, self-direction, and economic independence. Transwomen in sports (and transpeople in general) have nothing to do with the fact that women in Oklahoma rank 49^th in economic and social wellbeing and 51^st in care and safety.

Of all the things that Enes Kanter Freedom gleaned from his time in our state, it’s the misogyny that is most obvious. It is, after all, the Oklahoma Standard.

There is an argument to be made that we shouldn’t. It is, after all, a dangerous book. It’s a book of revolutionaries, radicals, and troublemakers.

Which is why it should be handled with care. These sacred stories are powerful. Sacred, we say.

So we will teach them the art and science of studying the Book - how the canon was put together, the redactions, the edits, the picking and choosing, the socio-historical context, its authors and ghost writers and their agendas. We will help them trace the arc of the biblical narrative as it twists and turns, always and ultimately towards love.

But none of that will prove to them that we take this Book seriously.

Our lives will.

Our children will know we take the Bible seriously when they hear us give a gentle answer to turn away wrath.

Our children will know we take the Bible seriously when we welcome the foreigner, the stranger, and the sojourner, just as God welcomes us.

Our children will know we take the Bible seriously when we beat our AR-15s into plowshares and our Glocks into pruning hooks.

Our children will know we take the Bibles seriously when we study war no more, but do the things that make for peace.

Help us to confess when we fall short, Holy One. Pick us up, dust us off, and remind us that there is nothing else to do but keep trying. And we must keep trying, for the children are watching.

And listening. And learning.

We pray in the name of Jesus, who showed us what Love does. Amen.

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So on this day, we will do our best to accept Your invitation to rest and be refilled.

We will take a moment. We will take our foot off the gas. We will sit down, whether on the back porch or in a church pew. We will be wherever it is that we are, fully and completely.

We will listen, deeply, that we might hear our own rhythmic heartbeat and steady breathing.

We will attend to this music closely enough to note the key change. Help us, Holy One, to use it bring about a heart change.

We pray in the name of Jesus, who never missed a chance to find a quiet place to pray. Amen.

Incidentally, it is also not a day when people who are childfree, whether by choice or by circumstance, are asking for or expecting any of those things.

We (the childfree) know better than to talk about being childfree outside of certain circles because doing so is often mistaken by people who have children, whether by choice or by circumstance, as an invitation to treat us as objects of disdain, envy, or pity. It is not unusual for people who are childfree to be told we are selfish or that we must hate children.

Today is not the day I’m going to rebut those misguided, silly, and often hurtful assertions. Instead, I’m writing to those who need to hear a Christian pastor say that a woman’s greatest worth is not tied to her womb, for the Bible tells us so.1

Yes, many of the stories about women in scripture focus on having babies, but that is because infertility was used to tell the story of the people of Israel and was “a common literary device in the literature of the ancient Near East . . . Like their neighbors, biblical authors used this theme to illustrate both the power of God and prominence of the one conceived against all odds.”2

But scripture is also filled with stories of women who were childfree, who led and served in religious and civil capacities, who were poets, prophets, and community organizers. These examples devastate the narrative that a woman is defined by how much she contributes to the birthrate. These women include, but are not limited to Miriam, Huldah, the wise woman of Tekoa, the wise woman of Abel, the witch of Endor, Deborah, and Esther. As the Rev. Dr. Lisa Wilson Davison describes them in her book More Than a Womb, they are worship leader, prophet, judge, warrior, poet-singer, scribe, priest, interpreter, canonizer, reformer, politician, strategist, sage, savior, comforter, and advisor.

Their impact is defined by their integrity, courage, leadership, wisdom, and faithfulness. Not because they gave birth.

Yes, these are words that women who are mothers need to hear, too. But for those of us who have been told we don’t know what love is, what tired feels like, or what real sacrifice is, it is especially important to also be told that none that is true. As Tracy Ellis Ross said, and scripture confirms is true, “You do not need to push out a baby to help push humanity forward.”

So happy Non-Parents Day, beloveds. Great is your integrity, courage, leadership, wisdom, and faithfulness, thanks be to God.

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Preachers know that most congregations will not abide a scripture reading more than twenty verses (we can tell when you’re beginning to lose interest), so the lectionary divides up the story in smaller sections, spread out across multiple Sundays (and of course just leaves out some of it altogether). This means that most Christians never trace the arc of Jacob’s narrative in full.

Do we really need to read the whole thing? After all, he is listed in the “Faith Hall of Fame” in the New Testament. Jacob is famous for his dream about a ladder that reached up to heaven, how he worked years and years to marry the girl of his dreams, and for wrestling with God until he got a blessing.

But that’s not the whole story. The people of Isreal, to their credit, didn’t just give us the snapshots that make Jacob seem squeaky clean. As part of the permanent record, they remember that Jacob demanded his brother’s inheritance for a bowl of soup and later stole Esau’s blessing (some nasty work). Jacob was so lily-livered that when he thought his caravan is going to be attacked, he organized his wives and children into groups and sent his least favorite to the front lines so that he would have time to escape should the need arise.

Jewish tradition refused to pretend Jacob was a saint. They left it all in - the good, the bad, and the ugly. They understood that there was no reason to clean him up because doing so would erase some of the most significant lessons we can learn about the importance of hospitality, that trickery catches up with a person, and what cowardice looks like.

It would serve America well to do the same, at least if we really want to become a “more perfect union.” But that is not the direction we’re headed.

Last year the Trump Administration issued an executive order that called for the removal of materials at national parks that “inappropriately disparage Americans” or case the United States “in a negative light” or cast the United States “in a negative light.” To comply with the order, the Park Service took down plaques about slavery, information about climate change, and a sign about indigenous people, to name a few. Last month a ruling halted further compliance with the order, for as Judge Angel Kelly wrote in her opinion, “Not only does this undermine the integrity of the national parks; it sets a dangerous precedent of censorship and sanitization.”

But make no mistake, the attacks on truth-telling are far from over, and we cannot rely solely on the judicial branch or the National Park Service to do this work. People of faith (especially white Christian Americans) must also commit to telling the whole truth about Manifest Destiny-inspired genocide, a Civil War fought for the right to enslave Black people, and how women in this country have never had bodily autonomy.

There is no stronger argument against the idea that this is a Christian nation than our own history, which is perhaps why some people want so badly to erase it. And yet, our ancestors of faith remind us that if we tell the truth about our past, we have a chance at a more faithful future. Let us refuse to further whitewash our own country’s history and instead look fully into the face of our nation’s past so that we can prevent repeating our mistakes and better understand the present moment. Confession leads to repentance leads to repair.

But first, honesty.

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We trust that You don’t need us to elaborate.

Instead, we’d like tickets for “it’s a small world,” the one made famous by Disney, although created for the New York World’s Fair to support UNICEF and the flourishing of children. We know it sounds a little corny, Holy One, but the message we very badly need to permeate everywhere from our neighborhoods to the White House to the Kremlin to the Knesset is the one written by the Sherman brothers sixty year ago, in the shadow of the Cuban Missile Crisis:

It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears

It’s a world of hope and a world of fears

There’s so much that we share, that it’s time we’re aware

It’s a small world after all

Maybe if everyone was humming a song about world peace, international unity, and nurturing kinship then we would stop separating families, hunting each other down with armed drones, and treating the Earth as if there is a Planet B. For as the song says:

There is just one moon and one golden sun

And a smile means friendship to everyone

Though the mountains divide and the oceans are wide

It’s a small world after all

We should note that Richard Sherman wrote a third verse1 just before he died, perhaps because he knew the message needed reinforcing:

Mother earth unites us in heart and mind

And the love we give makes us humankind

Through our vast wondrous land, when we stand hand in hand

it’s a small world after all

Help us to stay with the feeling, Holy One. With heavy but hopeful hearts we pray, Amen.

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It’s unlikely the cost of groceries will go down in response. It’s even more unlikely that corporations will redistribute the salaries of its CEOs to its workers as consolation. The rental market will certainly not adjust out of sympathy.

We really aren’t asking what happens now though, Holy One. We know the answer.

Nothing will happen. Just like nothing has happened to the minimum wage for nearly two decades. Any legislative remedy will be called a non-starter. The folks who voted against it because it was “tied to this” or “didn’t account for that” will not organize a new initiative that will satisfy their concerns, even though they claim to support raising it.

But just like nothing will happen, everything will also happen. Nonprofits, churches, agencies, and Good Samaritans will keep trying to stop people from bleeding out from the cost of childcare, utility bills, and medication.

We will listen to the stories about why help is needed, even though we already know them heart: fixed incomes, urgent care, layoffs, holes in safety nets, reduced subsidies, the increased costs of, well, everything, because everything will still happen even though we didn’t raise the minimum wage.

We will work to piece together enough money to cover this person’s electricity bill and that person’s rent payment. We will stretch every penny that comes in so that we say “yes” to as many who ask as we can. We will dry tears, offer a hug, and whisper a prayer that there will be a break in the storm. Sigh.

We will treat the symptoms, but not the causes. Raising the minimum wage wasn’t the end-all-be-all, but it would have helped, Holy One. So be with us as we tend to the needs that are right in front of us, while also working on systemic change that will keep people from falling through the cracks in the first place. Strengthen us to do what we can, where we are, with what we have to fill the hungry with good things and send the rich away empty.

We pray in the name of our teacher Jesus, who gave us that assignment. Amen.

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“Race to the bottom” usually describes the competition to reduce costs by paying the lowest wages or giving workers the worst conditions. In this case, it characterizes how Republican primary candidates competed to give voters the worst options for leading our state government. And for the “what about” crowd screeching that this is a partisan hit piece, yes, both parties can be grossly demagogic. As conservative thinker Yuval Levin writes in American Covenant, “The party system is intended to compel more radical activists into coalitions with more moderate copartisans before they mount the electoral stage, but the dominant role of primary elections has meant that this no longer happens, and both parties approach voters in the guise of their worst selves.”

The last twenty years of politics in Oklahoma reeks of the Book of Judges, a biblical narrative of a political and societal downward spiral into chaos marked by idolatry and civil unrest. While there are bright spots mixed in and a good leader every now and then, the intervening seasons of peace get shorter and shorter throughout the story until they are nonexistent, and the book eventually ends ominously: “all the people did what was right in their own eyes.”

If the recent primary campaigns tell us anything, it is that Oklahoma is on the same path. Our downward spiral in everything from healthcare to education to infrastructure has devolved into a political moment in which primary candidates are falling all over themselves to insult public school teachers and play with bananas on TV, all in the name of throwing red meat to the most rabid voters. As Levin laments, “individual politicians in both parties now have strong incentives to, instead, only satisfy their party’s most devoted voters. As a result, both parties now appeal to the fringes and leave the ideological core of the electorate oddly underrepresented.”

If the Book of Judges teaches us anything, it is that a designated hero won’t save us. The people, all the people, must insist on course correction or we will continue to fight for the titles of Worst and Last. All of us, not just some of us, must commit to knowing the issues and to voting in every single election. We must rebuke and reject candidates who name-call, bully, and buy their own election. We must demand that candidates debate solutions, not soundbites, and we must hold accountable those who we elect.

As we move past the primary and run-off election seasons and onto the general election for the next governor of Oklahoma (and any other election for that matter), we cannot simply hope that it will get better or wish for more substantive discussion of the very serious issues we face. We must insist on it.

We are in a deep hole, but we can stop digging and start climbing. Let us reach for higher ground, together.

We wouldn’t blame You.

We are officially in the “post-aid era,” after the Trump administration dismantled U.S.A.I.D., and now there is more suffering in the world with no safety net for people who are the most vulnerable, at the same time that the world now has its first TRILLIONAIRE. The man twice elected to the presidency recently called peace talks with Iran “boring.” There is a UFC octagon on the White House lawn. ICE stopped updating its once-regular public reports on the number of people being detained at its facilities, certainly so there would be no data to confirm that it’s not actually the “worst of the worst” being caged, but our next door neighbors.

Actually, You might be thinking of a stronger word than “disappointments” when it comes to us.

But this Tuesday in Oklahoma is Election Day and all of us have the chance to provide some relief to our neighbors who make minimum wage. It’s not perfect, but it’s the one chance voters have had in the last fifteen years (and the foreseeable future) to do anything at all about the rising costs of basic living.

Some of us even have the chance to send home some of the playground bullies who are running to be our next governor.

Our City Council is voting on Tuesday, too, so we have the opportunity to encourage them to mark their ballot against renewing a contract with a surveillance company that doesn’t care about civil rights.

And in addition to all that, we also have the chance, among other things, to take a meal to someone, provide an audience for the nearest 8 year old budding comedian, volunteer at the animal shelter, help our neighbor study for their citizenship test, take a walk in the neighborhood without our phone so we can wave at whoever else is also outside, call the person who sits in the pew behind us who we haven’t seen the last two Sundays just so they know that someone cares enough to miss them, and carpool for the sake of conversation.

Be with us as we try to give love the upper hand. Yes, on Election Day, but also every day. We pray in the name of Jesus, who showed us how. Amen.

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We can’t help it. We were made in Your image,

So then, we are who we are:

But most of all, we are Beloved.

Before any other name or any other label was given to us, forced on us, thrown at us, You called us Beloved.

They say that hurt people hurt people, but it must also be true that loved people love people.

So we will love one another. We can’t help it.

After all, we were made in Your image. Help us to live up to the resemblance.

We pray in the name of Love itself, Amen.

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To be sure, we already know that the thirty days in front of us will be full of much of what the thirty days behind us held - endless laundry, figuring out what’s for dinner again, and headlines that should be satire, but aren’t.

But oh, we are hoping that it will not all be, “shampoo, rinse, repeat.”

Maybe that’s why we sense a tiny spark of possibility on this day, less than 24 hours before we turn the calendar page. We have some kind of fresh start feeling, as if it’s a low-key version of the first day of the school, when no grades have been recorded, we haven’t forgotten our homework, and nothing smells like a gym locker room.

Before we lose our enthusiasm, Holy One, send your Spirit to fan the flame of what might be. We are all too aware that, “if we always do what we’ve always done, we’ll always get what we’ve always got,” as the saying goes.

So be with us as we discern what doing something different means, whether it is an evening walk or an hour without a phone within arm’s reach or sending a card or saying grace or not picking up again what isn’t ours to carry. Let this then lead us to treat our neighbors as we have decided to treat ourselves: with care.

And when the sun rises tomorrow, may the dawn remind us that your mercies are new every morning, not just on the first day of the month. Amen.

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What in the hippiest of dreamscapes, unAmerican, AI-generated Bible story is this?

“Awe cam upon everyone.” “They had all things in common.” “They distributed the proceeds to all as any had need.” “They spent much time together.” “They ate with glad and generous hearts.” “They had the goodwill of all the people” “Day by day, more were being saved.”

Funny how out of all the stories in scripture, this is the one that the fewest people consider to be believable. Folks are happy to take literally the story of Balaam’s talking donkey or Jesus walking on water, but this is where they draw the line. A congregation practicing communism? This is not the text they have in mind when they reverently affixed to their car the bumper sticker, “The Bible says it. I believe it. That settles it.”

Luke must have known this would difficult story for us to swallow, so he gives an account of the commie vibes of these earliest churches three times in the Book of Acts. Acts 4 reads, “Now the whole group of those who believed were with one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.” In Acts chapter 5, Luke describes the early church in a way that would otherwise have it zoned as a free medical clinic.

Regardless of whether one takes the story literally, metaphorically, or seriously, the idea conjures a bit of nostalgia, as if we might somehow return to the good ol’ days of the early church. As theologian Linda Mahoney writes, the text gives off the impression that, “In the beginning was the model community, and all communities of Jesus’ followers could be such, if today’s believers behaved like the first ones!”

Of course it wasn’t all rainbows-and-unicorns in the early church, which we know because the bulk of the New Testament is letters from the Apostle Paul filled with exhortations to shape up. Despite this, these early communities were doing some remarkable work, as the text bears witness to the fact that, “Day by day, the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.”

One might think that text would be the favorite of pastors/elders/councils everywhere, given the handwringing over the last fifty years of church decline. So many congregations would love it if, “day by day, the Lord added to their numbers.”

But so many churches misunderstand what the text means when it says that those who were added to their numbers were “those who were being saved.”

“Being saved” is not the same as walking down the aisle and accepting Jesus as one’s personal Savior or otherwise making a profession of faith. To adapt a line from preacher Bill Coffin, “The gospel is never personally salvific if it is not socially redemptive.” Salvation in the Bible is political, which is often missed when we limit our understanding of the word within a heaven-and-hell framework. As theologian Marcus Borg notes, “A historical-metaphorical reading of scripture restores a crucial dimension to what the Bible means by salvation . . . [which] is central to the story of the exodus, the prophets, Jesus, and Paul . . . [and] has two focal points: justice and peace.”

When the text says that, “Day by day, the Lord was adding to their number those who were being saved,” it is a summary statement of the work that is described earlier, when we read that they, “had all things in common,” “distributed the proceeds to all as any had need,” “spent much time together in the temple,” “broke bread at home,” “ate with glad and generous hearts,” and had “the goodwill of the people.” This community of faith did the work of liberating (saving) people from the hell of poverty, hunger, and isolation.

This is our call, too, beloved church. To be a community of salvation where we are constantly shaping a world in which everyone has enough to live abundantly, on earth as it is in heaven.

The current state of the world presents us with an overwhelming number of people and conditions that are desperate for salvation. In this regard, preaching is devastatingly straight forward, for hell on earth right now includes everything from multiple war zones to pretend ceasefires to the news that 400+ childcare centers have closed in Oklahoma since November.

But the text also gives us the key ingredient to the work of salvation: in every description of the churches who experienced the number of those being saved added to day by day, Luke says the were “all together.” In heart, in mind. Meaning, they weren’t trying to Lone Ranger it or looking to billionaires to save them. They looked around at each other and asked, “What can we do together?” So they shared, redistributed wealth, broke bread around the table, and cared for each other.

“And day by day, the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.”

If that’s the line we want written about us, we’ll need to ask, “What can we do together?”

If that’s the line we want written about us, we’ll need to ask ourselves what we can offer, give, share, and redistribute.

If that’s the line we want written about us, we’ll have to earn it.

It would have been reasonable for the two disciples on the road to Emmaus to give the side-eye to the Stranger who had butted in on their private conversation. Supposedly he hadn’t read the recent headlines, how Jesus of Nazareth had been executed by the Empire, “in a fashion all too familiar to Palestinian Jews of the time: a dissident prosecuted for resisting the ‘occupying authority.’”

They give him the CliffsNotes version, followed by one of the most painful lines in all of scripture: “But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” They were devastated that Jesus’s ministry had not resulted in a popular uprising, but in a resurgence by Empire. Game over. Seeing how down they were, Jesus responded by quoting a fake Bible verse from Pulp Fiction to rally the troops.

Nope. Jesus did not use the strategy of U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, who recited dialogue from the violent Hollywood blockbuster to frame war as an act of divine justice. Instead, Jesus was shocked at their disappointment, and asked, “Was is not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?”

But this was not Jesus declaring that he was born to die as God’s sacrificial lamb. Jesus never made such grandiose claims. He never posted a meme of himself healing anyone, nor did he talk about being gifted and talented. Instead, he launched a Bible study: “Then, beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the scriptures,” and put himself in an already quite crowded category - that of prophet, which theologian Richard Rohr describes as, “truth-tellers, they were radical change agents, messengers of divine revelation, teachers of a moral alternative, and deconstructors of every prevailing order.”

Jesus told the stories of the prophets to help the disciples connect the dots, for as theologian Ched Myers reminds us, “above all, the prophets warn us that the way to liberation in a world locked down by the spiral of violence, the way to redemption in a world of enslaving addiction, the way to true transformation in a world of deadened conscience and numbing conformity is the way of nonviolent, sacrificial, creative love.” His death was inevitable because he wouldn’t leave well enough alone. He would not give up on changing the ways of the world, and was willing to sacrifice his time, his talent, and a more comfortable storyline to reveal the evil of Empire and retributive violence.

The Stranger explained that as a prophet, Jesus’s death was predictable because “an official reaction to prophetic witness is inevitable . . . The prophet’s death is not necessary, given the character of God; it is, however, inevitable, given the character of the state.” Or as Banksy put it, “You are an acceptable level of threat and if you were not, you would know about it.”

This is disappointing news for most Christians. Conservatives seem to only experience persecution because few people want to live in a theocratic hellscape and progressives suffer from the delusion that lifestyle liberalism of salty bumper stickers are the same as the prophetic tradition of sacrifice and suffering for the greater good.

Most sermons on this text move to the last part pretty quickly because it lends itself to a warm-and-fuzzy ending. Bread is blessed, broken, and voila! “Their eyes were opened, and they recognized him,” and everyone lived happily ever after.

That might have helped them recognize Jesus, but they said themselves it was on the road, during that Bible study, when their hearts began to burn. They had been reminded that Jesus had modeled what was being asked of them, described by the Rev. William Barber II as a commitment to “escalate non-cooperation in order to demonstrate capacity to sacrifice for a better future.”

When that connection was made, “that very hour, they got up and returned to Jerusalem,” back to the work of “nonviolent, sacrificial, creative love,” which inevitably asked them to sacrifice their privilege, time, and a more comfortable storyline. There was work to do in the city. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

So many of us already feel like we’re there. Or at the very least, we’re aware that the conditions of suffering and torment already exist right here, in the only world we know.

War is hell, whether authorized by Congress or not, every soldier tells us so. No one is safe when bombs and drones are overheard - not on playgrounds, not in offices, not in hospitals. Hell is working three jobs and still not being able to afford healthcare or childcare or this month’s medication. Hell is communities drowned by melting glaciers and rising oceans. Hell is our parched earth, drained dry because we kept building data center after data center after data center after data center.

We act as if hell is something waiting on the other side of the veil or a place reserved for those certain people or something we can give. But hell is actually all around us. No need to send anyone there, especially since Jesus never did. He seemed far more concerned with heaven, which he said was here, among us.

Heaven, located in the only world we know. It, too, is actually all around us. In a softened heart. In bearing each other’s burdens. In the long summer nights. In a refilled cup of coffee. In choosing peace, building trust, and restoring hope.

Help us to give ‘em heaven, Holy One, instead of hell. We pray in the name of Jesus, who showed us how. Amen.

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We seem to be right on the edge of World War III, of economic collapse., of losing democracy.

Which is to say nothing of how we are right on the edge of saying something we can never take back, or selling ourselves short, or giving up on what might yet be.

But if it is true that we are right on the edge of all of these things, then it is also true that we are right on the edge of choosing peace, of holding fast, of changing the ending.

So may we not grow weary and give up on hope too soon. Help us listen to our heart, Holy One, and how its rhythm urges “cour-age” “cour-age” “cour-age” with every beat.

We pray in the name of Jesus, who keeps showing up, still. Amen.

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We live in a country that twice elected to the presidency a man who is a convicted sexual abuser and listed repeatedly in the Epstein files. Former U.S. Representatives Eric Swalwell and Tony Gonzales both recently resigned from Congress in the face of multiple allegations of sexual assault. Last week in Oklahoma, Rep. John Waldron suspended his reelection campaign after reports became public that he used an AI tool to generate a video of he and a female candidate kissing, which he later texted to her.

Perhaps if the church hadn’t spent the last two thousand years casting women as either a femme fatale or a blessed virgin, men wouldn’t view women primarily as sex objects. Maybe it wouldn’t be like this if there had been more preaching about women’s voices, experiences, and stories. By every measure, we need more sermons on “women’s issues,” not less.

But if that’s too big of an ask, I would settle for my male colleagues to simply preach, teach, and (most importantly) live into the mature masculinity of Jesus.

It is a kind of manhood that listened and learned from women. Jesus had his longest recorded theological discussion with the woman at the well. He was most decidedly not a practitioner of the “Billy Graham Rule” (more recently known as the Mike Pence Rule). Rather, Jesus was a man who could be alone with a woman and not sexually assault her nor assume that she would proposition him. He considered women as intellectual equals and was quite comfortable engaging them as conversation partners.

The mature masculinity of Jesus repeatedly chose non-violence, instructing his followers in political resistance that highlighted injustice, but did not repeat the tactics of Empire.

Instead of flexing his muscles to intimidate and coerce, Jesus constantly chose de-escalation. We see it when he diffused a tense and nearly deadly situation by inviting everyone to think about who was qualified to throw the first stone, and again when he told Peter to put away the sword, for violence begets violence. He said this even though he was being detained by the authorities.

Jesus was obsessed with teaching about hospitality, something often dismissed as “women’s work,” both then and now, and urged the disciples to let the little children come to him, instead of keeping them out of sight and out of mind. He made sure everyone was fed, no matter the size of the crowd, teaching the disciples how to organize a potluck instead of telling everyone to fend for themselves.

Ultimately, he took the disciples to task for fighting about who was the greatest among them and insisted that their main concern should be about serving all. So much for career trajectory.

If the headlines are ever going to change, our hearts are going to have to change. Let’s start with Sunday’s sermon.

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