Never Satisfied

July 5, 2026

Genesis 24:34-38, 42-49, 58-67
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Some people – and apparently some birds, if my story has any connection to reality – are never satisfied. Serve them coffee and they’ll ask for tea. Serve them hot tea and they’ll ask for iced. Serve them iced tea and they’ll ask for coffee.

That’s fine, mostly. There are many ways in which I, personally, would like the world to be better than it is. I’d like my skin to be more resistant to ultraviolent light. I’d like the rain to hold off until I’m under a roof. I’d love to officiate at fewer funerals of friends and beloved members of this church.

On this day after Independence Day, I’d also like to see the Constitution’s goals of a more perfect union brought closer to fulfillment. I few years ago I read Jill Lepore’s These Truths, a history of the United States from 1492 to 2016. I came away with an appreciation of how often people had made significant gains in achieving a more just and egalitarian government – and how often those gains had been clawed away by succeeding generations, to be won again at a later time.

As the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., said, paraphrasing the abolitionist Theodore Parker, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” In Dr. Lepore’s work, we also see that people keep trying to bend it back.

I don’t think anybody should be satisfied with bending away from the full inclusion of all people in the social and political life of the nation. I don’t think denying rights to people of color or to women should be tolerated. I think that LGBTQ+ folks should have every right that a straight person has. I think that any person present in the United States accused of misdeeds deserves proper process of law and reasonable bail.

If we look at this nation without rose-colored filters, we’ll see that we have not attained these things. There’s no reason we should be satisfied. There’s no reason we shouldn’t do the work toward achieving these goals.

But was that what Jesus was talking about two thousand years ago? A little bit, perhaps.

The issue wasn’t the organization or inclusive nature of government, which was organized against inclusion far more than that of the United States of America. The issue was how some people found ways to discount the similar messages of two dissimilar figures: John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth.

As Elisabeth Johnson writes at Working Preacher, “The problem with this generation, Jesus says, is that they listen neither to John nor to Jesus. John’s austere lifestyle led people to accuse him of having a demon, while Jesus’ habit of eating and drinking with sinners earned him a bad reputation (11:18-19). This generation finds reason to take offense at both John and Jesus and thus to evade the call of both.”

Ah, how little things have changed.

Some people are never satisfied, are they?

I swear this dissatisfaction comes from all sides. When the Church advocates for publicly funded support for the poor and marginalized, we get told to stay in our lane and stay out of politics. But then when the Church organizes to provide meals and shelter for the poor and marginalized, we get told we’re creating a public nuisance by having all these poor and marginalized people about.

The social services of the first century were nothing to aspire to, but at least the reality of poor people was accepted. In the twenty-first century, we have a bad habit of closing off spaces to the poor, in the curious belief that somehow if we can’t see them, they don’t exist, and we don’t have to worry about them, support them, or assist them any more.

Never satisfied.

A few weeks ago someone who goes by Pastor Brandon online posted a cartoon in which two figures hold this conversation: “Why don’t you preach more on sin?” “Okay, tell me your sin and I’ll try to preach a sermon on it.” “No, I mean, why don’t you preach on…” “Is that your sin?” “No.” “Well, why would you want to hear a sermon on someone else’s sin?”

That goes to the heart of it, doesn’t it? Each and every one of us, if we’re challenged by some element of the Good News, by some aspect of prophetic summons, by some vision that requires us to change, well. That’s when we start to discount the messenger. Or to rework the message. If we’re Christians, we can’t say that Jesus didn’t mean what he said. But we’re pretty good at changing the meaning of what he said.

To this day, I’m astonished that Christians in political power, from the first Christian Roman emperors to members of the United States Congress, draw a dividing line between the expectations of individuals and the expectations of civil authorities, as if a government run by Christians can start wars of conquest like the Crusades, commit savagery against designated heretics or Jews, or just simply refuse to aid the poor whose poverty has been exaggerated by the acts of other Christians. Did Jesus seek glory through power? Did Jesus gather wealth to himself? Did Jesus call for war and revolution?

No. But later Christians did. Contemporary Christians do. And they keep saying it’s consistent with the words of Jesus.

I started by saying that there’s no reason to be fully satisfied with the nation, and that we need to work for its improvement. I also say that there’s no reason to be fully satisfied with the Church. It has always needed improvement – witness the aggravated letters of Paul – and, so far as I can tell, always will.

Because at the heart of it all is the human talent for finding ways around the clear teaching of John and Jesus and those who echoed them well: we have work to do, obligations to fulfill. It may be a yoke that does not injure, but it is still a yoke and we have to pull. We pull in the presence of Jesus, who encourages, guides, and strengthens us, who saves our spirits and gives rest to our souls.

Amen.

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Sermon

Pastor Eric prepares a written manuscript, but he does make changes while preaching, so the sermon as recorded is not an exact match to the sermon as written.

Photo by Basile Morin – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=64696618.

What I’m Thinking: The Uncomfortable Parable

Transcript 9/23/2025

Jesus told a number of stories that people eagerly memorize and repeat. The story of the rich man and Lazarus isn’t one of them.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the sixteenth chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 16:19-31). This is one of Jesus’ parables that is told only in Luke, a distinction that it shares with such well known even popular parables as “The Good Samaritan” and “The Prodigal Son.”

I would not describe this one as popular. I wouldn’t describe it as well known. This is a story that we don’t repeat very often. It’s not hard to see why. It is the story of “The Rich Man and Lazarus.”

The rich man was wealthy. He lived in a great house. He enjoyed his food. Lazarus was a poor man, and ill. He lived outside the rich man’s door. He didn’t even get the leavings from the rich man’s table. Dogs came and licked his sores.

Unlike most of Jesus’ stories, this one continued after the death of its characters. Lazarus found himself embraced by Abraham in heaven, whereas the rich man was tormented in hell. The rich man asked if a warning could be given to his brothers so that they would not make the same mistakes as he had and also end up in torment. He asked even if Lazarus could go and give them that warning. Abraham said they have the warnings of the Law and the Prophets. They will not pay attention even if someone were to return from the dead.

It’s hard to find a story of Jesus that is more pointed amongst a bunch of very pointed stories indeed. “The Good Samaritan” and “The Prodigal Son” are both fairly pointed stories. And it is difficult to find a story that we so gladly forget — conveniently forget — when we are the ones in place of the wealthy man, when we are confronted by the Lazaruses of the world, when we have good things and someone else does not.

This is the contest, if you will, between greed and compassion. All too often in this world greed wins: The desire for comfort, the desire for security. All too often, compassion loses, grace loses, generosity loses.

I don’t really think that Jesus intended to tell us a story about the nature of heaven and hell. He used the conceptions of the time to make his point. I think Jesus was trying to tell us about the relative importance of greed on the one hand and compassion on the other. Compassion, said Jesus, is what comes first. Set your greed aside.

What will it take us to convince us of that truth? I don’t know. Jesus may have known, but notice how pointed the ending of that story is. They’ll not be persuaded even if someone returns from the dead.

And in this world in which greed so often wins, how can we say that Jesus was wrong?

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: Quiet and Peaceful Lives

In our prayers for quiet and peaceful lives, who should we pray for? Everyone.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the second chapter of First Timothy (1 Timothy 2:1-7), in which we are urged to raise our “supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings” for everyone, particularly for those who are in positions of power and authority, so we might live quiet and peaceable lives: lives of godliness; lives of dignity.

The first thing I’ll note is that Paul directed these prayers to be raised for everyone. It’s up to a community whether they are going to set themselves up as a place which is consistent with quiet and peaceful lives, in which lives of godliness and dignity can be maintained by everyone. It’s not up to just one or two. We all have to cooperate to make that happen.

It is true, however, that there are major questions that people in authority — they make the choices, and others follow along. Sometimes these are choices but the better: choices that lead towards peace. Sometimes they are choices for the worse: decisions that lead towards war, and when people follow those choices.

I can’t help but observe that the Apostle Paul himself did not manage to live a quiet and peaceable life. It was a life, I think we’d have to say, directed towards godliness. It was a life in which he insisted upon his own dignity and those of other followers of Christ. But it was a life that led him into conflict over and over and over again with those in authority. It was a life that led to a martyr’s death at the orders of the Emperor of Rome.

I have no doubt that he raised his supplications and prayers, that he gave thanks for the good decisions of the officials that he ran into, but I also have no doubt that, well, not everybody in those communities did the things that were needful so that they and their neighbors could live peaceful and quiet lives. And certainly not all of the rulers that he encountered did so — definitely not the last.

Let us continue to raise our prayers. Let us continue to hold those in authority in prayer, not because they are doing what God wants, but because they can be a part of doing what God wants.

And let us continue to pray for one another that we might live and thrive in communities of quiet and peace, lives in which we might live faithfully, lives in which we might maintain our dignity.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: Obstacles to Discipleship

Jesus did not believe that his way was easy. He warned people to prepare.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the fourteenth chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 14:25-33).

As I read the Gospels, Jesus had a habit of consistently raising the bar for expectations of faithful people, of his own followers, and I think you’ll find that right here in chapter fourteen. A crowd was following him. He said to them, if you want to be my disciple, if you want to be an acknowledged follower, then you’ve got to hate your father and mother, and indeed the rest of your family. You’ve got to hate life itself. You must face execution — carry your own cross, f you want to follow me. He completed his instructions by saying, you’ve got to give up all of your possessions, and then you can follow me.

He certainly didn’t make it sound easy or inviting. The fact is, there is not much in this section to say why one would follow Jesus at all.

Jesus told those who were curious about following him that they needed to consider it seriously, that faithfulness was deeper than they might be prepared to go. He compared it to preparing for a major construction. He compared it to preparing for a war. You’ve got to commit, he said. You’ve got to prepare. You’ve got to be ready to go the distance.

What is it, he asked, that would hold you back? What is it that you would prioritize over following me? What is it that keeps you from a whole-hearted commitment to God and God’s way?

Some of it might be loyalty to family, might be loyalty to others. There may be times when God’s call summons us away from our obligations to family, and to do other things, to say other words. What about life? Are you prepared to give up some portion of this life, whether it be to death or whether it be to taking part in things that you might otherwise not? What pleasures are you prepared to leave behind?

And, of course, he closed with money. It is, after all, the single most common temptation most of us encounter. Or rather, money is the thing that summons so much of our attention, so much of our commitment. Can you give that up, said Jesus. Do that before you follow me.

The question, I think, for each of us is: what is the thing (or more likely what are the things) that we are in practice place before our commitment to Christ? What are the things that we will do before we enact our obligations to Jesus? What is it that has our hearts before the heart of God?

Take a good look. I know I’ve found them in my own heart. What are they in yours?

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.

What I’m Thinking: You Can’t Take It

When somebody wanted Jesus to intervene in a dispute over inheritance, Jesus reminded those who listened that you can’t take wealth with you.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the twelfth chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 12:13-21), in which a man called from the crowd, “Teacher, tell my brother to share the family inheritance with me.”

Jesus first responded by saying, “Friend, who made me a judge over you?” To me that seems a little peculiar, because I think of Jesus as judge over all of humanity. During his earthly ministry, Jesus chose not to exercise that kind of power in that kind of a way.

Instead, Jesus told a story about a man of wealth who had such a great crop that his barns couldn’t hold it all. So he tore the barns down and he built new ones, and there he could store his grain and his goods. But God said, “You fool! Tonight your life is ended, and whose will all your wealth be?”

In a sense, Jesus had done what that first man in the crowd had asked him to do. Indirectly he had told the brother who was holding all of the family inheritance (or at least more than his younger siblings thought he should) that holding on to it would do him no good. In the end, we all come to the boundary of our earthly lives in which material wealth means a great deal. When we journey across that boundary, material wealth means nothing.

Jesus followed in centuries of wisdom tradition in saying that wealth is a thing for this life and this life only. Selfishness and greed will not carry across the boundary. What you accumulate will be left for others and lost to you.

So build up treasure with God.

Jesus didn’t say it in the parable, but he said it often enough in other times: the way to build up treasure with God is with generosity towards those around you. The way to build up treasure with God is by deepening your own relationship with the Divine. The way to build up treasure with God is to follow the ways of Jesus.

When Jesus died, they cast lots for his clothing, because that was all that he had.

You can’t take it with you. You can’t take it with you.

So build up treasure with God.

That’s what I’m thinking. I’m curious to hear what you’re thinking. Leave me your thoughts in the comment section below. I’d love to hear from you.