The saints remind you that your path is your path, that Christ’s call to you is yours and no one else’s, and that you are called to follow Christ and care for God’s sheep in your way.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
St. Peter and St. Paul, Apostles
Text: John 21:15-19 (adding in 20-22)

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

It’s hard to know what to do with the saints.

The Church – with some differences between East and West – has a long list of faithful followers of Christ who are called saints. We remember those who have gone before us who modeled the Christian walk, witnessed to God by their lives, acted as Christ’s love. Today we celebrate St. Paul and St. Peter on the day tradition says they both were martyred for their faith.

It’s hard to know what to do with saints, though. Their stories are often moving and inspiring. Most did amazing things. Of today’s two, Peter was the passionate leader of Jesus’ disciples. Paul was the greatest preacher of Christ the Church ever knew.

But it’s hard to know what to do with saints because it’s hard to know what they can tell us about our life, our journey, our walk in Christ’s Way. Sure, Peter and Paul both had flaws, like us. All saints do. But we’re not going to be celebrated for our discipleship 2,000 years from now. Do we celebrate saints as examples of a faithfulness and Christly walk that we can never aspire to?

The answer lies in Jesus’ last words with Peter here.

After Jesus and Peter have a powerful and poignant triple exchange of questions, answers, and commissions, Jesus gives Peter a vision of his future.

Jesus says that while Peter makes his own decisions now, a time is coming when he’ll have his hands and body tied, and be led where he doesn’t wish to go. Peter’s Christly path will end in his death. Then Jesus repeats what he said when he first met Peter: “Follow me.” Regardless of his future, this is his call, to follow.

But Peter looks at the beloved disciple, at John, and asks, “What about him?” Peter wants to know how John’s path will look. Will John suffer and die? What will be his story?

And Jesus says “What difference is that to you? Follow me.”

Jesus will only tell you your story, only give you your call.

What others are called to be and do isn’t your business. And this isn’t just the official saints. It’s also those we call saints who were gifts of God to us in our lives. Their stories are their stories. Their path was their path. We remember them, celebrate them, honor them. But we do not compare ourselves to them.

You might know others that don’t seem to struggle as you do. You might see others do things you wish you had the ability to do. You might be awed by the faith that someone else seems to have so easily.

But Jesus says, “what difference is that to you? Follow me.”

This is what we truly celebrate about Peter and Paul: they followed Jesus.

That’s all. They both struggled sometimes, and while they’re remembered 2,000 years later as saints, note that their failures are also remembered 2,000 years later and written in Scripture. Being an anonymous saint in Christ’s Way is not necessarily a bad thing.

But these two loved Christ and tried their best to tend and feed Christ’s sheep. Both proclaimed that the flock included all people, not just the Jewish people, and Paul gave clear directions to us about God’s inclusive love embracing all cultures, genders, races, and nations.

But both ultimately trusted it was God’s love in Christ that mattered, not their successes or failures. They kept at it, knowing they were held in God’s love. Even if they were killed.

When Jesus asks Peter, “do you love me?” he asks you, too.

And if you say you do love Jesus, then he will say, “feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Follow me.”

It’s as simple as that. If the love of God in Christ that you know has reached your heart, please inform your face, your hands, your feet, your voice. Your choices. Your path. It doesn’t matter if you’re 13 years old, or 43, or 83, if you love the God who loves you, love the ones God loves. Take care of the ones Jesus cares about.

Follow Christ.

What will that look like for you? That’s the fun part. Start by committing to this way of Christ every day and asking the Spirit to guide you, give you strength and courage, and change your heart. Maybe you have a strong desire to stand with others at protests and make your voice heard. You might feel more gifted to help people one at a time. Or get involved in a local food shelf as a volunteer or regular donor. You might listen to how here at Mount Olive we’re engaged with our neighbors and decide you’ll try one of those ways. Maybe you’ve got time for phone calls or e-mails and you can constantly urge our leaders to take care of all God’s sheep. Or use your phone or email to organize others.

There are so many ways to tend Christ’s sheep, even if others seem to be better at it. That doesn’t matter to Jesus, and he doesn’t think it should matter to you, either. Your call to follow is your call, and no one else’s. Your journey is your journey, and no one else’s.

The saints aren’t ideals to put on pedestals. They’re companions on your path.

They walk alongside you, a great cloud of witnesses encouraging you to find your own journey, your own call. And they remind you the most important thing of all: if you follow Christ, you’re following Christ.

That is, Jesus is with you on your journey, holding your hand, guiding your choices at crossroads, filling you with the Spirit to be able to do this. Your biggest cheerleader and your constant companion in your following.

Peter and Paul understood that. So have so many saints before us. Now it’s up to you, because all Jesus has to say to you is, “if you love me, feed my lambs. Follow me.” What you do with that, well, that’s when it gets interesting.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

Love doesn’t care about the ways we feel divided from our neighbors. Love goes to the hardest places and holds out a hand, and gets involved.

Vicar Natalie Wussler
The Second Sunday after Pentecost, Lect. 12 C
Text: Isaiah 65:1-9; Psalm 22:19-28; Galatians 3:23-29; Luke 8:26-39

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Don’t let the pigs and the demons distract you. Yes the pigs and the demons are important parts of the story, but when we hyper-fixate on the spectacle of this story, we miss the very human parts. And we forget to ask:

Who is this man?
Where were the people that loved him?
How long had he been suffering? How long had he been alone?
Who put him in the tombs?

Because 
Someone chained him, someone saw him as more of a problem than a person. Someone washed their hands of him. And the whole community looked away from him.

If this was a story about Jesus and demons and pigs, then we’re off the hook. We can bask in the miracle and the awe-inspiring power of Jesus and sit back to consider who this Jesus guy actually is, like the disciples did when Jesus calmed the storm a few verses prior. And if it’s just a story of divine intervention, what does that require of us?

But if this story is about a man who has been abandoned by his community, if this story is about someone that’s been so forgotten that he, too, forgets himself, whose suffering was seen as “too much”, who’s been considered as good as dead, then we’re involved. If this is a story about a broken community, then we’re on the hook.

Because this world looks a lot like that Gerasene community, and the powers that be thrive on us not getting involved and looking away from each others’ suffering. Our world is built on systems and structures designed to oppress and punish and push away what we don’t want to see. It’s a world that leaves people on the margins and blames people for their wounds And the world is really good at keeping us separate–drawing lines between “us” and “them”, that hands us categories like “normal” and “abnormal”, “worthy” and “unworthy,” and it tells us to stay on our side in our silos and our echo chambers. It’s a world that wants us to forget our neighbor’s belovedness, that meets conflict with violence, and difference with fear.

But then Jesus shows up, in a foreign land and in a Gentile community–
He doesn’t add to this man’s oppression, he restores in
He doesn’t avoid, he meets him with love and curiosity

He asks the man his name, and he finds out that this man identifies as “Legion.” He’s had no one to remind him who he is. His identity is completely wrapped up in his pain

But Jesus sees him. Jesus reaches deep into this man’s soul, reminds him he still has one. When no one else would come close, Jesus, an outsider in this community, does. And when no one else would come close and he’s saying to this man, “I see you, your problems and your pain matter to me.” He gets involved. And he sees someone worth loving and worth saving, worth welcoming home. and the man experiences true healing and he’s freed from pain and fear—his chains are finally broken because love got involved. 

And in our own ways, we’ve all been this man–overwhelmed, believing the labels this world puts on us, feeling unworthy and broken, too hard to love. We’ve lived seasons in tombs, and forgotten who we are, but Jesus comes for us too.

Jesus sees through every label, every fear, and every lie we’ve believed about ourselves, calls us beloved, child, worthy, capable. And the send us out to be the same love that changes our lives everyday.

And this love doesn’t fit into the categories and silos, it doesn’t pay attention to labels. Love goes out of its way to go to the margins and to go into the places it’s told not to go into–just like what Paul is saying to us today: there is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female–for all are one in Christ Jesus. 

We don’t erase differences, In Christ, the old divisions and hierarchies don’t separate us anymore. In Christ, all are valuable, all are beloved. 

 In Christ, we belong to each other and we show up for each other. In Christ, if someone is hurting, we’re already involved, no matter who is suffering. In Christ, we have a love for each other that says, “No matter where you are, if you’re hurting, I’m here for you.” Because in Christ, we can’t decide whose pain and suffering matters. And when we act in this love, healing happens.

But this kind of love is costly. It asks us to show up and cross boundaries. To go to the margins and risk being rejected, like Jesus was. And everyday, we see more and more that the world resists this kind of love, because it threatens the way things are. This kind of love exposes the town’s apathy toward this man, and maybe that’s why they ask Jesus to leave. The world thrives on fear, on separation, on silence, but the Gospel calls us to something different. It asks us to get our hands dirty in the work of healing. 

Because the story doesn’t end with this man’s healing. Even after the man begs to stay with Jesus, Jesus sends him back into his town. Why? Because the real work is just beginning.

Because the community needs to face what it’s done.
Accountability needs to happen.
Reconciliation needs to happen. 

And this now-healed man is sent to tell his story, to speak truth and to witness to the power of the love that got involved. No matter how long it takes.

And we, too, are sent out.

We’re called into the same day-in, day-out work of healing and witness. The kind of love that gets involved that changes both people and communities.
The love that breaks cycles of violence and apathy.
The love that rebuilds what fear tore down.
The love that whispers to us and people throughout the world and throughout time: You are not alone.
The love that brings abundant life for all people
The love that gets involved, and now, more than ever, requires us to get involved too.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.