Rev. Eric Anderson Pastor's Corner, Sermons

Sermon: Whose People Are We?

January 25, 2026

Isaiah 9:1-4
Matthew 4:12-23

About 750 years or so before Herod arrested John the Baptist and Jesus returned to the region of his childhood, the Assyrian Empire attacked the Jewish nations of Israel and Judah. Judah, where Isaiah lived in the capital of Jerusalem, survived the invasion because an outbreak of infectious disease swept through the Assyrian army and forced them to abandon the siege of Jerusalem. Israel, however, the northern of the two nations, fell. It ceased to exist as an independent country. That land included the territories of the tribes of Zebulun and Naphtali, an area we know better by its common name in Jesus’ day: Galilee.

Isaiah, catching his breath as the Assyrian armies retreated, spoke a word of hope to the survivors of Israel. He addressed a dwindling population. Unlike most empires of ancient Mesopotamia, the Assyrians actually resettled large groups of conquered people. Scholars have estimated that over 3 million were displaced over 250 years. The result is the disappearance of ten of the twelve tribes descended from Jacob. The “Ten Lost Tribes” lived on the lands conquered by the Assyrians.

Isaiah’s vision of a nation increasing in joy, freed from their burdens and restored to their homes, did not take place for those he addressed. Centuries later Matthew considered the way Jesus’ ministry had begun in the backwater region of Galilee and made the connection: in Jesus there was joy. In Jesus there was liberation. In Jesus there was light.

Matthew, and for that matter most of the Gospel writers and early Christians, might have preferred Jesus’ ministry to get a different starting point. Jerusalem. That was the spot. Right in the center of things. Luke, you may remember, told stories about the child Jesus in Jerusalem, once as a newborn and once as a twelve-year-old. The Jesus story led toward Jerusalem, but shouldn’t it have started there, too?

To some degree Jesus was “on the run” from the law. After his baptism, he seems to have spent some time – we don’t know how long – in the Jordan valley among those clustered about John the Baptist. Then John was arrested by Herod Antipas and, according to the first century historian Josephus, imprisoned at Machaerus on the east shore of the Dead Sea. Capernaum on the shores of Galilee was a fair distance from Marchaerus, but ironically it was still within the territory Herod governed. I don’t know if anybody was looking for Jesus except that somebody might have grabbed him off the streets on suspicion of being an associate of John the Baptist.

Jesus didn’t choose to hide. He began to bring healing to people. He began to speak to what were probably slowly growing crowds. He began to preach during synagogue worship. He brought them the exact same basic message that John the Baptist had: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

As Raj Nadella writes at Working Preacher, “The devil tried to coopt him. The empire tried to threaten him. But nothing seemed to deter him. Jesus withdrew into Galilee spatially but, missionally, he stepped right in the heart of the empire. He boldly stepped into a dangerous space so he can lead others to safety.”

He started with four fishermen, and he started as he went on: with an invitation. As Dr. Nadella writes, “The Roman empire relied on threat, coercion and enticements to recruit people into its military. The new kingdom, on the other hand, inspires them to participate in it.“

Jesus didn’t offer a $50,000 signing bonus. He offered a challenge.

He called it “fishing for people.” I wonder how Peter, Andrew, James, and John heard it. Fishing for fish meant long, backbreaking hours on tasks ranging from hauling nets to mending them, sailing boats and patching them. It meant a limited customer base, because the Romans controlled the fishing economy of Galilee. Through a combination of market control and heavy taxes, they kept the fishing families at a subsistence level and passed the fruits of their labor up the chain of wealthy landowners, nobles, and royalty.

Jesus clearly didn’t mean that. He doesn’t seem to have charged anyone for healing. He doesn’t seem to have asked a fee for preaching. He did accept the invitations of local religious leaders for dinner. He did accept the financial support of some who traveled with him.

As David Lose writes at Working Preacher, “…Perhaps we might re-imagine just what it is that Jesus is calling these first disciples to be and do: fishers of people. And that implies relationships. Jesus, that is, calls these first disciples into relationship — with himself, with each other, and with all the various people they will meet over the next few years and, indeed, the rest of their lives.”

Relationship. Not exploitation. Relationship. Not domination. Relationship. Not condemnation.

Relationship.

To my mind, that’s a different kind of fishing. These fishermen care for the fish. These fishermen recognize themselves as related to the fish. These fishermen realize that they, that we, that all of us are fish, each one looking for the safety of the school, each one looking for the guidance of the group.

And Jesus said, “Follow me.”

There are a lot of people who’ll encourage you to follow them, their ways, their values, and their commitments. Some of them you should probably follow. For the most part, parents are pretty reliable guides, though those of us who are parents know that we’re not perfect, and those of who’ve had parents know for sure that they weren’t perfect. Tragically, parents can fail dramatically and disastrously, and sometimes they do. It takes a lot of work by a lot of people to help the children recover and heal. It takes a lot of work by a lot of people for those grieving parents to recover and heal, too.

There are people in leadership roles and it should be good to follow them, right? Employers. Managers. Bosses. Those folks are imperfect, too. Richard W. Swanson describes a kind of boss that can’t be followed at Provoking the Gospel: “Managers who think of disruption as a management strategy want employees to be afraid that they will be fired… The only successful response is boot-licking.

“Have you ever worked for a manager like this?  I have.  They make the earth shake under everyone’s feet and they make the shaking unpredictable, chaotic.  I have worked for such managers.  It doesn’t turn out well.  Good ideas are hidden away.  Analytical critique is punished.

“…Do not confuse this disruption with the drawing-near of God’s Dominion.”

What did the drawing-near of God’s Dominion look like? In Matthew’s words: “…teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.”

What it doesn’t look like is what we’re getting from national leadership, including Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s assault on Minneapolis. New Yok Times reporter Charles Homans, a child of that city, wrote about an encounter he witnessed on January 14th: “What was clear in person, seeing the scene outside of the frame, were the limits of this performance of power. The agents had no capacity to maintain order or much apparent interest in doing so. Their presence was a vector of chaos, and controlling it was not in their job description. All that was holding the crowd back, as far as I could tell, was the knowledge that an officer like these shot a woman a week earlier and that another shot a man up the street an hour ago. I left the scene that night certain it would happen again.”

This operation and those like it in Los Angeles, Chicago, and now Maine (Maine. Really.) reveal a couple of things about U.S. immigration law. First is that much of what is legal is wrong. A favorite tactic of ICE agents outside of these enforcement sweeps has been to apprehend people when they come to immigration court, dismiss their hearings, and deport them. Apparently that’s legal. If it sounds absolutely unfair, I agree with you. When people engage with the system, they should get a full hearing.

Recently agents detained a five-year-old to get his father to open the door for them, and both are now in custody in Texas. The pair have an active asylum petition. Is this legal? Frankly, I hope not, but I’m afraid that it is and it illustrates how cruel the law can be.

Some of ICE’s actions, however, are clearly illegal. An internal memo has been leaked asserting that officers do not require a judicial warrant to enter a home. A federal judge in Minnesota ruled on January 17 that they do after a man was removed from his home based on an administrative warrant, one not signed by a judge. And once again, the man arrested was actively engaged in seeking proper status, and guess what? The day after his release he was taken into custody again when he appeared for an immigration hearing.

Officials have made clear that the deaths of two people at the hands of ICE officers will not be investigated. That tells me that justice has been decided. Due process has become plain force. Do what we tell you or die.

“…Teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.”

Our loyalty is being demanded. Our obedience is being required. Our compliance is being forced. These are not the ways of Jesus. These are not the acts of Jesus. These are not the voices of Jesus.

Whose people are we? We belong to Jesus and nobody else. When Herod threatened to arrest Jesus, do you know what he said? “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.’” Let us be Jesus’ people. Let us go our way and bring healing. Let us teach and proclaim good news. Let us finish our work against the forces of chaos, violence, and tyranny.

Amen.

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Sermon

Pastor Eric makes changes while he preaches, so the sermon as prepared does not precisely match the sermon as delivered.

The illustration is The Calling of Saints Peter and Andrew by Duccio di Buoninsegna (between 1308 and 1311), part of the altarpiece in the Cathedral of Siena – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=150337.

Rev. Eric Anderson Pastor's Corner, What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: The Core of Christianity

As Matthew described it, Jesus began his ministry by teaching the good news of God’s realm, summoning people together into it, and bringing people healing. This is the core of Christianity.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the fourth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel (Matthew 4:12-23), his account of the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.

That ministry began when John was arrested. Jesus returned to the region of the Galilee. He then went and recruited the first of his disciples — Peter and Andrew, James and John — from where they had been fishing in the sea of Galilee. He taught in the synagogues. He proclaimed the good news of the Realm of God, and he cured the sick, any who came to him with some kind of a disease.

I think you can argue that this is the essence, not just of Jesus, but of Christianity. It is founded in the teaching (and the teaching of what?): the teaching of Good News, the teaching of God’s nearness, the teaching of God’s forgiveness, the teaching of God’s love.

And how do we express that love? We express it through healing, through comfort, through gathering people together, through building a better society, a better world.

There are so many ways to understand “Messiah,” “Anointed One.” The most obvious ones are to connect anointing with the creation of the monarch, or the appointment of a general, the selection of a leader of war. But Jesus, though he was the Messiah, simply didn’t go in any of those directions. He accepted baptism rather than an anointing with oil. He brought healing rather than war. He preached good news rather than condemnation. He spoke of repentance in order that people would find their way to full participation in the Realm of God.

“Come with me and I’ll make you fish for people,” he said to those first four followers. Fish for people not so that they might be consumed, but so that they might thrive.

This is the essence of Christianity: Teaching. Teaching good news. Summoning people together. And seeing that as many as we can find their healing.

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.

Rev. Eric Anderson Pastor's Corner, What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Good News

When John asked Jesus if he were the they’d been waiting for, Jesus took the opportunity to define what a Messiah was, and to invite everyone into thee Realm of God.

Here’s a transcript:

For this third Sunday of Advent, I’m thinking about the eleventh chapter of Matthew’s Gospel (Matthew 11:2-11). If this seems a little far along in the book to be describing things that happened before Jesus’ birth, well, it is.

John the Baptist, who had baptized Jesus, had been arrested and was being held in prison by King Herod. He sent messengers to Jesus to ask him if he was the one who had been promised, or should they wait for another? Jesus said to the messengers, go and tell John what you see and hear: the people are being healed, the dead are being raised, the poor hear good news.

The messengers left, and hopefully that message brought John some comfort and reassurance.

Jesus then turned to the crowd and asked them why they had gone out to see John the Baptist in the first place? Did they go to hear a reed that was being blown by the wind? Did they go to see somebody in great clothing?

No. They went to hear a prophet. And yet, said Jesus, the least in the realm of God is greater than John the Baptist.

Well, that’s a lot, isn’t it?

In this message, Jesus defined for us what he meant an Anointed One, a Messiah, to be: a healer, a teacher, someone who restored people to life, someone who restored people to the full care of their communities. But Jesus also defined what it is to be a prophet. A prophet is one who tells the truth despite discomfort, despite oppression.

But Jesus also said it is God’s grace, the grace that brings us into the realm of God, that surpasses everything. God’s grace made John a prophet. God’s grace makes each and every one of us a citizen of God’s realm.

As we approach this season of Christmas, as we prepare to rejoice once more in the gift of Jesus Christ, let us rejoice as well that we have been included in that same realm of God as John the Baptist, that we share it with that great prophet and with so many other saints over time.

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.

Rev. Eric Anderson Pastor's Corner, What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Sabbath Liberation

Jesus healed out of compassion, but he grounded his arguments for healing in liberation.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the thirteenth chapter of Luke’s Gospel (Luke 13:10-17), in which Jesus healed a woman in a synagogue on the Sabbath day. The healing itself is reasonably straightforward. Luke described the woman as having been afflicted by a spirit that had bent her over for eighteen years. Jesus called her over, laid a hand upon her, and she stood up straight.

Often these stories appear in the gospels because somebody objects, and that’s the case here. The leader of the synagogue said to Jesus that there are six days in the week in which to do work, and one day in which to rest and to honor God. That is, indeed, one of the Ten Commandments.

now let it be understood that in first century Judaism there was a clear understanding that care and compassion, works of care and compassion, were consistent with the Sabbath day. In particular, acts which saved human life were not just allowed but encouraged, whatever day of the week it might happen to be.

Jesus could have argued from that that healing this woman on the Sabbath day was consistent with the understanding that doing good for human beings was allowed, was permitted, was encouraged on the Sabbath. Jesus approached it from a very different angle, however.

Another thing that was permitted on the Sabbath was to untie domestic animals so that they could get to their food and their water. To leave animals tied up for the twenty-four hours of the Sabbath, that would have been cruel. It would have been inhumane.

Jesus said this woman has been bound by this spirit for eighteen years. Is it not consistent with the Sabbath, is it not consistent with the grace of God, to free her from what has confined her, whatever day of the week it might be? Is not the Sabbath a time to set people free?

And everybody, including the leader of the synagogue, approved of his words.

it is always time to provide deliverance to people.

It is important to understand what deliverance looks like to them. Not everybody who is bent over considers themselves bound; not everybody who has a disability wants to be “freed” from it. Oh, yes, they would like to be liberated from pain, and I’m sure they would like to be liberated from the casual disregard so many people show to disabled people.

But it’s not just folks with disabilities. It’s folks who are oppressed for one reason or another: whether it be out of poverty, whether it be because of a mental illness, whether it be because they’re homeless, whether it be because they have the wrong gender, or the wrong affections, whether they have the wrong skin color, or the wrong heritage.

We need to free people — we need to make sure all people are free from these kinds of bonds. There is no need to retain the shackles of prejudice for any time or any space, especially our houses of worship.

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

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: They Got Noticed

Philippi’s officials ignored Paul and his companions for days – until he healed a young woman whose illness was a source of wealth to those who owned her. Then they got noticed. And arrested.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the sixteenth chapter of Acts of the Apostles (Acts 16:16-34). The Apostle Paul and his companions had come to Philippi. They had met with members of the local Jewish community; they had spoken to them about Jesus; they had received a warm welcome, in particular from a woman of some substance and leadership named Lydia.

In this part of the chapter they meet with another woman of Philippi, one regrettably whose name Luke did not know or at least did not record. This is a young woman, and she is at the opposite end of the social spectrum from Lydia. She was a slave, and kept as a slave because she had a “spirit of divination” within her. Her owners would make money from her by selling her skills at telling fortunes for their customers.

Well, I don’t know what her condition actually was. It’s for certain that whatever it was, it removed her ability to restrain herself, because she would follow Paul through the streets, proclaiming that he and his companions brought a message of salvation from the most high God. Paul found it irritating and I suppose I would too if somebody followed me for days and said such things about me (which is unlikely).

At one point, Paul turned around and ordered the spirit to come out of her. When it did it left her in her right mind, in her own mind, her own spirit. It displeased her owners, who had Paul and his companions arrested and beaten.

Up to that point, nobody had paid much attention to them. Paul and his companions had mostly spent their time with members of the Jewish community, and they hadn’t made much of an impact on the life of other people in Philippi. But this time, with an act of, admittedly, pique, but also compassion; when Paul healed this young woman, they’d impacted somebody’s economic life, somebody’s source of money, their hope of wealth. And that that was what impelled them to arrest Paul, notice Paul, beat Paul.

I wish I could say that in the two thousand years since, the spread of Christianity has succeeded in getting people less focused on wealth and power, and more focused on the spirit and compassion. If it has, well, it’s a very small improvement. We live in a day when, my God, how wealth and power call with their siren song, that wrecks bodies, minds, and spirits on the rocks of greed.

No, the Christian way is the way that Paul took: to force those spirits that make money for others, that force those spirits that allow us to be exploited, that force those spirits which enrich some at the expense of others, to force those spirits out and call them for what they are: Possessors. Exploiters. Evil.

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.

Rev. Eric Anderson What I'm Thinking

What I’m Thinking: Have Mercy

From first to last, Jesus grounded his ministry in mercy.

Here’s a transcript:

I’m thinking about the tenth chapter of Mark’s Gospel (Mark 10:46-52).

This is the last story that Mark told about Jesus’ ministry before his entry into Jerusalem. Chapter eleven begins with that story of the triumphant entry into the city. So what did Mark use as the very last story he chose to tell before describing the events of Holy Week?

He talked about a healing.

A blind man who begged for his living called Bartimaeus heard that Jesus was near. He called out, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” — a pretty daring thing to say. “Son of David” was a royal title and speaking such words in Jericho, not far from Jerusalem, well. That was dangerous. People around him tried to keep him quiet, probably for their sake as much as for his, but Jesus heard the commotion and said, “Bring him to me.”

“What do you want?” Jesus asked Bartimaeus and Bartimaeus asked to see.

Another healing.

Mark began his account of Jesus’ ministry pretty much with a healing. Jesus went to a synagogue and there healed a man with a withered arm [Author’s note: it’s actually an exorcism; I got mixed up], and so began his account of Jesus’ actions and words in Galilee. From first to last, Jesus’ ministry among us was grounded in mercy.

“Son of David, have mercy on me.”

Jesus brought to the people around him not just power — plenty of people bring power. Jesus brought a willingness, indeed an eagerness, to use the power that he had for others’ benefit, to make their lives better, to bring them healing, to restore to them what they had lost and sought to find again.

Bartimaeus went away rejoicing.

Jesus went away to give his final act of mercy, challenging the authorities in the city, and at their hands going to the cross.

Mercy is what drove Jesus from first to last. Can mercy drive us from first to last?

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.

Rev. Eric Anderson Sermons

Sermon: Why Trouble the Teacher?

June 30, 2024

Lamentations 3:2233
Mark 5:21-43

I wonder how long they’d been waiting.

Jesus had been teaching along the shores of Galilee. It probably provided about as convenient an open area as they were likely to find near Capernaum. At the end of the day, you might recall, he had directed his disciples to sail across the sea (or lake, however you want to think of it). Personally, I think Jesus was looking for a day off.

It didn’t go all that well. They ran into a storm which forced his disciples to wake him up, and he was cranky about that. They pulled to shore in a place where people shouldn’t have known him. It wasn’t thickly settled with Jews. A perfect place to relax.

That’s when a possessed man found him and called him by name. Apparently the demons – they described themselves as “Legion” – recognized Jesus for who he was. Jesus, of course, could not leave these demons in possession of the man, so they asked to be sent into a nearby herd of pigs. He sent them there, at which the pigs promptly rushed into the sea and drowned.

That didn’t sit well with the locals, especially the owner of the pigs, I’m sure, so they told Jesus to go away.

So much for a vacation.

When Jesus and his friends returned to the Galilee side, they found a crowd, including Jairus, leader of a local synagogue and desperate to obtain Jesus’ aid for his ailing daughter. Had they been waiting all day and all night? I wonder. They headed for the house, with the crowd still milling about and probably getting in the way more than they cleared the way. As they went, a woman reached out and touched Jesus’ cloak, and suddenly twelve years of bleeding ceased.

As Cheryl Lindsay writes at UCC.org, “Their journey is interrupted by the hemorrhaging woman. It’s interesting to note that she did not intend to disrupt their movement. Unlike Jairus, she does not need an audience with Jesus to present her petition. She believes his touch will be enough.”

As it was. But it also interrupted the journey. Jesus did not want the recipients of his healing to be anonymous, at least not to him. He wanted to praise her daring to reach out to him in faith.

That’s when the messengers arrived with the tragic news that Jairus’ daughter had died.

It’s funny. I’ve read this story for decades and I have always blamed the woman for slowing everything down, for delaying Jesus before he could reach the girl. When the real delay was caused first by Jesus leaving the area in the boat, and second by the streets filled with people.

That’s when somebody uttered these crucial words: “Why trouble the teacher any further?”

I suppose it’s nice that somebody had some regard for Jesus’ time and welfare. Up to this point in the story, that’s been hard to find. Jesus’ reputation, thus far in the Gospel of Mark, had summoned crowds that make it difficult to eat, had prompted his family to wonder if he was crazy, had brought examiners out from the Jerusalem to see what he was up to, had forced him to cross the lake to get a break (and we know how that went), and had now got him stuck in a crowd so dense that his friends can’t imagine how he distinguished one touch from all the others.

Jesus had not been having easy days.

D. Mark Davis writes at LeftBehindAndLovingIt, “I do want to note that when Jesus turns and addresses the crowd, he takes back the agency of his actions. He was met immediately by Jairus and regardless of whatever his intentions were it seems that the urgency of Jairus’ daughter suddenly scripted Jesus’ actions. Then, the woman grabs his garment and his healing power goes out of him, with no reference to Jesus’ will or intent at all. Others are determining his actions and even his location. Until now. Now, he stops – as urgent as Jairus may be – he stops and turns and inquires.”

Up to this point in our text, Jesus had been pretty passive. He’d been swept along by Jairus’ plea, and then by the movement of the crowd, and had even healed the woman without making the choice to do so. We don’t often think of Jesus as swept along by the crowd, but in this story, that’s what happened to him.

Until he stopped it all. He took a breath. He asked who touched him. He learned who touched him. He praised the courage of her faith that made her well.

Then: “Why trouble the teacher any further?”

Now the teacher troubled himself. Having praised the woman for reaching out despite her fears, he continued the journey to Jairus’ daughter despite her parents’ fears. Reaching the house, he took charge. He cleared it of everyone except the parents and three of his disciples. Maybe they hadn’t said, “How can you say, ‘Who touched me?’ which Jesus clearly hadn’t appreciated. As D. Mark Davis writes, “Regarding the disciples’ effrontery, it is a wise guiding principle, when speaking to someone who is not stupid, to act as though what s/he has said is not stupid.” So yes. Jesus didn’t need those guys in the house.

And then: a woman who had suffered twelve years had reached out to him and been healed. Jesus reached out to a twelve-year-old girl and said, “Talitha cum. Little girl, get up.” And she did.

This time, Jesus didn’t say, “Your faith has made you well.” Nobody in the room said it, but perhaps one or two thought what I’ve been thinking: “Jesus, your faith has made her well.”

We value faith in the Christian Church. A declaration of faith is a basic part of membership in the Church. We ask it of people who are baptized as adults, and when people are baptized as infants, we ask it of them later at confirmation. When people join a new church, we ask them to affirm their faith again.

It’s almost like the price of admission. You want to see the Jesus movie? Let’s see your faith.

That gets more complicated when we look at our lives in relation to illness and healing. We hear Jesus’ words in the back of our minds, don’t we? “…if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.” “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” And: “Have you still no faith?”

But what if Jesus – what if God – has faith in us?

What if faith isn’t the price of admission, but an ohi’a seed that struggles in rocky crevices to somehow, beyond expectation, produce a shoot and branches and flowers? What if Jesus extends his faith in us to us, so that we can receive it and rejoice in it, so that we can nurture it and bear fruit in it? What if God cared so much about the world to make no distinction between those with wholehearted belief and those who wonder if they could have faith? What if God loved the world and its people whether they’re faith-filled or fearful? What if God so loves the world?

It’s clear that faith makes things possible that won’t happen otherwise. On the most basic, human level, a person who believes they can’t do a thing won’t do the thing, and the thing won’t happen. A person who has lost faith in the justice system won’t contest a lawsuit, and that probably means that justice won’t happen. A person who has lost faith in their body’s capacity to recover from an illness won’t seek medical attention, putting their healing at risk.

What faith doesn’t do is open up the compassion of God. God’s love and care flows to everyone, whether they are aware of it or not, whether they believe in it or not, whether they want it or not. Faith makes it easier – not easy, but easier – to accept that love and care and to flourish in it.

So why trouble the teacher? Because that is a way to seek what is already there, and in seeking to accept what is given. Troubling the teacher opens up our hearts, minds, souls, and bodies to the grace of God. Troubling the teacher opens the door so that power may come in and raise us up.

Troubling the teacher might even leave those words echoing in our souls: “Your faith has made you well.”

Amen.

by Eric Anderson

Watch the Recorded Sermon

Pastor Eric does make changes from his prepared text as he preaches. Just watch. He’ll do it.

The image is Christ Healing a Bleeding Woman, artwork found in the catacombs of Rome. Art by anonymous (2nd cent.) – http://campus.belmont.edu/honors/CatPix/womanblood.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=14728851.