The Holy Spirit descends and remains upon Christ at his baptism. In our sacramental lives and the life of our city, this pattern continues to this day. God is continually coming down to stay.

Vicar Erik C. Nelson
January 18, 2026
Texts: Isaiah 49:1-7; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-42

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

I’ve probably talked about it too much, but in case you haven’t heard, I went to Sweden last summer. And it will surprise no one to hear that I demanded we go into every church we found. One of my favorites was a small village church on the west coast, a church built by my ancestors and their neighbors in the mid-1800s.

In that church, above the pulpit was something familiar but also unfamiliar. They had a bird hanging there, a symbol of the Holy Spirit descending on the preacher. But instead of being all white, like we might expect, it was painted gray and black, with green and purple around the neck.

I asked the steward why they had a pigeon hanging above the pulpit instead of a dove, and she explained that in Swedish, like many other languages, they only have one word for pigeons and doves, because they’re actually the same animal.

When my ancestors heard today’s gospel reading in their heart language, they heard the Holy Spirit descending in the form of a pigeon, the beautiful, clumsy, iridescent gray and black, green and purple birds that lived among them.

As I thought about that, I fell in love with the idea of the Holy Spirit as a pigeon, not a dove.

When we think of a dove, we think of something we see at weddings and graduations, flying away from us. A dove is a pure, white thing, that flies high up in the air, above us all.

When we think of pigeons, it’s very different. Pigeons have lived among us for thousands of years, so this is where they want to be — down here, on the ground, with us. They live with us in the muck and mess of the world.

In our Gospel reading, the main thing the Holy Spirit does is come down and stay. The Holy Spirit doesn’t float above us, staying far off. The Holy Spirit comes down and joins Jesus in the muddy, mucky water of the Jordan River.

That’s what the Holy Spirit always does. That’s what God does. The central message of Christianity is that God comes down to us and stays.

But on days like today, in weeks like the last few, it can be hard to know where God is among us. It’s difficult to see the Holy Spirit descending and remaining.

In some ways, I do see the Holy Spirit in our city. In the midst of our collective heartbreak, I see the Holy Spirit as the community comes together to march for justice and liberation. I hear the Holy Spirit in whistles and horns that warn neighbors to seek shelter. I see the Holy Spirit descending and remaining as volunteers bring groceries to people in hiding. 

But if I’m honest, I want more than that. I want to see God come down in bigger ways. I want to see giant hands coming down from heaven to save us. I wish we didn’t have to march for justice. I wish our neighbors didn’t have to hide. I want God to act quickly and boldly to save us.

I want to believe what Paul says in 1 Corinthians, that we are not lacking in any gift as we wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. I want to believe that God will strengthen us to the end.

Even as we wait for God, I do believe that God is faithful.

I see God’s faithfulness in the community coming together in acts of love and service. I see God’s faithfulness in the care this congregation has for each other and their neighbors. I see God’s faithfulness in God’s presence in this place.

A couple weeks ago, on the day our neighbor Renee was shot, I came here to pray in the church. I was moved to tears, thinking about our belief that Christ becomes truly present in this room, every time we gather for worship. Right there. (pointing at the spot where the presider stands to distribute the Body.)

Not in a metaphorical or symbolic way. But we believe that he is really present here. He’s here, in this neighborhood that has experienced far more than its fair share of pain.

Seven blocks from where George Floyd was killed by his government. Six blocks from where Renee Good was killed by her government. In this room, Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, killed by his government, comes to us. Right here.

Into the most difficult of places, God is always coming to us to stay.

The baptism in the Jordan is the messy beginning of Jesus’s ministry. A ministry that we know can only lead one place: the cross. The ways of this world that demand purity and uniformity, submission and compliance, will always clash with God’s way.

Isaiah reminds us that God loves outsiders. God loves the one “deeply despised, abhorred by the nations.” The one regarded as a “slave of rulers” is the one God uses to cast down the monarchs and chieftains.

God shows us strength through vulnerability, salvation through sacrifice. Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, takes away the sin of the world, not through conquest with angel armies or heavenly occupation, but in his love poured out for us in his innocent suffering and death.

God in Christ has already reached his arm down from heaven to save us, stretching them out on the cross. Showing us an embrace wide enough to take in the whole world.

On the cross, Christ took all our pain, all our suffering, all our heavy burdens upon himself.

And in his dying, he overcame death. He passed through the pain and the grief and the weight of this world, and overturned it all. So now we have the promise that wherever we encounter death, God has new life waiting. Resurrection is coming.

As Jesus says to the disciples, “come and see.” I say come and see new life in the middle of a land under imperial occupation. In a city that knows too much tragedy, in the heartland of a rotting empire, eternal life springs forth.

New life springs forth in our sacramental life, as God comes down to us and stays with us. New life springs forth in the life of this city, as neighbors come together and sacrifice for each other, giving up their time, money, privilege, safety.

As followers of Jesus, there is no promise that our days will be easy. We have no guarantee of safety. But the promise we have is the promise that we are God’s beloved. The Holy Spirit has come down to us and remains with us now.

The Holy Spirit keeps coming down to us. Again and again and again.

And so, we live, filled with the Spirit. The Spirit whose iridescent beauty finds us in the muck and mud and mess and leads forever into new life.

Thanks be to God.

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

You are called in baptism to be Christ’s light in the world, and you will be enough, with the help and grace of God.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Baptism of Our Lord, Lect. 1 A
Texts: Isaiah 42:1-9; Matthew 3:13-17

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

Since the Day of Pentecost, the Church claims we share the same call and purpose as Jesus.

That we are Christ, Anointed, in our baptism, God’s Beloved, just like Jesus was. That Isaiah’s promises to and about the Servant of God today, which we easily connect to Jesus, also apply to you. To me.

It’s audacious to say. That God has given you as a covenant, you as the sign in the flesh of God’s promised love for all things. And that God has given you as a light to the nations. To help people who cannot see to see, to bring the light of God’s justice to the world.

From the beginning of this liturgy, when we blessed waters and gave thanks to God for this gift, until the end when we are sent out in peace to love and serve as Christ, this day claims this is your call, the life you are meant to be for the world.

But today it not only feels audacious to say this. It feels a little naïve.

We can barely breathe this week for anguish and despair, anger and sadness. For the second time in six years our neighborhood is a national focus point because of government sponsored murder and once again we feel helpless to change anything. Agents of our government shoot and kill just blocks from this building. Even that we have to say Renee Good was innocent, which she was, is jarring. Would it have been OK if she wasn’t? Is that now the world we live in? Evil and wickedness work freely in our world and threaten our neighbors, our friends. Us. It’s overwhelming.

The idea that you or I could be God’s covenant in the flesh, God’s light in such darkness, seems laughable. How can we make any difference for God in this? As we mourn Renee and all those who are being disappeared by ICE, as we mourn the absence of safety for nearly anyone these days, it’s hard to see what we can do.

And yet: in a few moments we’re going to affirm our baptism and the promises made there, however audacious or naïve they might be. We will do four important things that will show a way forward.

First, we will renounce evil.

Loudly, with passion, like you always do. We will claim in no uncertain terms the ground on which we stand. That we renounce all spiritual and satanic powers of evil, all evil powers of the world, even any evil within us that works against God’s love and will for the world.

You promise today to work against any evil, denounce and renounce it, and pray to have removed. You commit to never make accommodations with evil, or ignore it, or believe its lies and the stories it spins to deceive.  

What can you do in these days? Stand up against evil as a beloved child of God, and let the world know where you stand.

Next we will confess our faith.

Using the ancient baptismal creed, we will claim our trust that God’s grace has come into the world and still comes. That we believe in a creating God who lovingly made all things, and who came to this world in person to bring love to bear against all the sin and evil of the world, even breaking death, so all God’s children could know the love of God.

We will claim we believe God’s Spirit calls us together as a people of God, enlightens us with the light of God so we can see in the world’s darkness, and makes us God’s holy people. Even when we doubt we are.

What can you do in these days? Claim the love of God that made and saved the universe and belongs to you and to all people. And let the world know that love.

Then we’ll promise to live as Christ.

We will promise to be God’s covenant and light in the world, as Isaiah said. To stay in this community of faith and be fed in Word and Sacrament for our mission. To proclaim God’s Good News in all we say and all we do, and to serve the world as Jesus did, working for justice and peace wherever we can.

Today you will claim your baptismal mission to be God’s Light in the world for love and Good News and justice and peace, however you can be.

One of our four year olds at Mount Olive – if you’re not asking these questions, our children are – one of our four year olds stopped me after church a couple weeks ago and said, “I want to know how Jesus is the light of the world.” And I told him that whenever he was kind and loving to someone, that showed them God’s love. It was like a light in a dark place. And that when Jesus has him doing that, and the person who was standing with us doing that, and me doing that, light spreads in the world.

How is Jesus the light of the world in this terrible time? When you are. It’s that simple.

And last we will pray for the Holy Spirit.

For the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of God, the Spirit of joy in God’s presence.

You will ask the Holy Spirit to give you wisdom and understanding when all you know right now is confusion and fear. To give you counsel, advice, when you don’t know what steps you can take, and the strength to do what you are called to do. To give you joy when despair fills your heart.

God promises to give you all this. How can you live in these days? Go into your baptismal mission with the Holy Spirit giving you all you need to be who you are called to be.

There is no easy answer for how things will get better.

But we all will do what we can as Anointed Ones, some going to protests and vigils, some working on the politics, some organizing. Some doing the many things our Neighborhood Ministry Coordinator Jim suggested in an email last week, like helping people get their groceries, or watching out for neighbors. All this is good.

And it all starts with your baptism. You are anointed as Christ for the world. Not to fix everything. But to be God’s covenant promise that others can see, as Isaiah said, God’s light that pierces the darkness.

And that’s enough. Nothing more is asked of you than you bring whatever light you can shine today. Whatever kindness or love you can bring today, as Christ in the world.

That’s how we will live in these days. And God’s light will shine.

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

God’s people have often lived in deep darkness, in the time of Herod, so our hope is their promise: God’s light still shines, and now in and through us.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Epiphany of Our Lord
Texts: Matthew 2:1-12; Isaiah 60:1-6

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

“In the time of King Herod.” That’s all Matthew needs to say.

And now all Matthew’s readers know this story of the visit of eastern strangers to the Christ child won’t end well. It happened in the time of a tyrannical, paranoid despot who saw threats everywhere, and ruled by violence and fear.

There is a little hope in the story. The magi are warned to take another road home. Joseph is warned to flee to Egypt with his family. The Magi are safe. The Child is safe.

But. This is the time of King Herod. Vulnerable, weak, powerless people are never safe. And the town of Bethlehem weeps at the death of their children, mothers and fathers inconsolable.

Darkness shall cover the earth, in our lives, Isaiah says, and thick darkness the peoples. It’s reality.

Nothing Isaiah says is news to us.

Our ancestors in faith, from the Hebrew people to the early Church lived under various Herods, under unjust governments, threatened by people who abused power and worshipped violence.

Our nation is defined by this. Today’s threats to immigrants and people of other faiths, disdain for those who speak truth about what is happening, organized attempts to disenfranchise, outright and open attacks of hate on people who are different, are deeply embedded in our history. Ask the Cherokee and Choctaw nations whether King Herod can be trusted. The president on our twenty dollar bill forcibly removed nearly 60,000 Native Americans from their homes, forcing 13,000 Cherokee and 17,000 Choctaw to march from the east coast to west of the Mississippi, and thousands died on those Trails of Tears.

Or ask our Black siblings in our country who in our history always have had to keep an eye on King Herod, from slavery to lynching to Jim Crow to redlining to today’s disenfranchisement.

Darkness will cover the earth, Isaiah warns, and thick darkness the peoples. Expect this, Scriptures say.

And yet Isaiah also declares a wonder: Arise, shine, for your light has come!

God enters this thick darkness and brings light through this Christ to enlighten all peoples. This is our hope tonight. But this is critical: remember how God’s light shines. It shines in darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it, John says. But it’s still darkness where the Light shines.

Jesus escaped Herod, but the children of his village did not. King Herod lived at least a few more years after these events. Christ’s coming didn’t stop him.

But Isaiah says: lift up your eyes and look around. God’s light shines, even in the darkness, even if it looks weak. Even if this child escaped King Herod only to run into the power of Rome and a Roman cross. Even if this child fled Israel for Egypt only to be turned over by his own people for death. Even so, we declare that this Christ, this light, still shines. Even in persistent darkness.

That paradox is our hope.

God chooses the way of the weak to come to us, Paul has said, and shames the way of power. God’s true power is revealed in that cross, in that vulnerable refugee family fleeing Herod. God’s light is seen not as a day of sunshine but as a lone candle shining in a vast place of darkness.

But that one light is enough to see by. When you’re walking on a path in the dark with a candle, there’s a lot you can’t see. But you can see the two steps in front of you, and you can take those steps. And if someone joins you with their candle, there’s a little more light, and more wisdom about which steps to take. And if you are joined by more and more and more, the darkness has no chance of stopping you.

This is the way God is bringing light to overcome the darkness of this world. And from the beginning of his life, this is the only way Jesus operates, under constant threat of the Herods, by being light. And when Jesus is finally killed, God stuns death by breaking free of its hold. God’s light cannot be extinguished by darkness, not even by death.

And so Isaiah says, “See and be radiant.”

See God’s light in the darkness. And be radiant. Shine yourself.

You are the light of the world, Jesus said. It is who you are. So you leave here and when you see the darkness, you don’t pretend it isn’t real, or despair that there’s no light from God. You don’t have to fear the time of King Herod.

You leave here as light. Maybe tiny, weak, trembling, but that’s the way God’s light works. Even a tiny candle can be seen from a long distance in the dark. You are a light someone else might see, and be drawn to. Like those strangers from the east, someone might come to you and say, “We have seen this light from a distance, and have come.” To find God. To find hope.

And imagine what others could see when you and I join our lights, when we all join all our little lights together. We may not see the end of darkness in our days. But we witness by our light that it cannot overcome God’s light, its days are numbered.

Lift up your eyes and look around: it’s already happening.

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

Christ has made God’s heart known to us, so now you know, you see, and you can act as God’s beloved child in this world, for the healing of all things.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Christmas, year ABC
Texts: John 1:1-18; Ephesians 1:3-14

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

God’s will isn’t as complicated as we sometimes say.

When we see evil done in God’s name, we know that’s not what God wants. When the Church acts cruelly or with rigid lack of love, when Christians spout racism and hatred and demonize others in Christ’s name, we know this is not God’s will.

But when it comes our lives, we sometimes act as if what God wants is a mystery. God’s will is complicated, hard to discern, we say, and life is complicated too. So, we say, sometimes things are just the way they are. This is convenient, because if we don’t want to try and understand something we don’t have to. We don’t have to see anything we don’t want to see or do anything we’re uncomfortable doing.

But today John pops that bubble.

John proclaims the unknowable Triune God, the Creator of all things, is now known to us fully. Everything we need to know, everything that is in God’s heart is now evident to us.

“No one has ever seen God,” John writes. “It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made God known.”

If we know the Son, the Word made flesh, if we know Jesus, we know God. If we know Jesus, we know the heart of God.

So here is God’s will, from that heart.

The Son of God, the Word-made-flesh, God-with-us, said peacemakers are blessed and will be called children of God. And said the heart of God is that we pray for our enemies and love them.

That means we can’t play around anymore with the idea of justified war, or condone violence of any kind and say it’s what God wants. Non-violent resistance isn’t passive or cowardly, it’s Christ’s way. Now we know this, we can’t pretend we don’t.

The Son of God, the Word-made-flesh, God-with-us, said God’s full law is completed when we love God with everything we are, and love our neighbor as ourselves. We can’t justify not loving some people anymore, or say we’re not sure how God wants us to act towards some. The One who knows God’s heart opened “neighbor” to mean all people, even those we disagree with, even those who aren’t like us. Now that we know this, we can’t pretend we don’t.

Knowing God’s heart for the world means we see and act through God’s heart.

We don’t see things as we’ve always seen them, now that we know they are destructive and broken and harm God’s children. Seeing through God’s heart means seeing the evils of systems that oppress while making others like us rich, instead of saying “it’s more complicated than that” and letting ourselves off the hook. Seeing with God’s heart means seeing those who are hungry, or thirsty, or sick, or naked, or imprisoned, or a stranger and seeing God’s face. The Word-made-flesh told us to see the ones the world considers the least and the last and we’ll see God.

And if we want to be with God, we will be with them. Because if we can see through God’s heart we are called to act through God’s heart. That also means acting as peacemakers in our personal lives. In all our behavior. In how we challenge our leaders. In how we pray for those who hate us or whom we want to hate. In how we work to change systems that make life impossible for so many. Even if that means loss for us.

Now that we see with God’s heart, we know we have to act as God’s heart.

And the good news is that God wants to give you and me the ability to do this.

Jesus, the Word-made-flesh, said that peacemakers would be blessed and called children of God. But John today says that same Jesus, the Word-made-flesh, the Light no darkness can understand or overcome, will give those who trust in him, trust in that Light, the power to become children of God.

Paul says today that we’ve been adopted into God’s life as children and heirs, born in the Spirit of God. And in the Spirit of God, John says, we are given God’s strength and courage, the power to become children of God who know and see and do all that God’s heart wants done in this world.

Now it’s clear from Scripture that all people are God’s children. And many who aren’t Christian have been led to live as God’s heart by the Spirit. But for you and me, baptized into Christ, this is our calling, John and Paul say. Your calling. To bear God’s heart in the world, to make peace, to heal, to feed and clothe and shelter others, to welcome strangers and to love enemies. To live into the truth of your being a child of God and blessing the world with the love that is the heart of God.

Jeremiah says when God’s heart’s desire comes to be, the world will be full of life.

It’ll be a watered garden, young and old will rejoice to dance and be merry. God will turn the world’s mourning into joy, give gladness for sorrow, and all people will be satisfied with God’s bountiful abundance. This isn’t a pipedream of some impossible future. It’s what will happen when the Triune God gets what God’s heart desires.

And now you know. Now you can see. Now you can act. And you have the power of God-with-us in the Spirit to make you fully the child of God you’ve always been. The one to be a part of the healing of this world. The one who will make God’s heart known to all who meet you. The one God needs you to be where you are in this world.

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

God’s way of making the world safe for children is to risk becoming a child and leading us into the way of peace.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The First Sunday of Christmas, year A
Texts: Matthew 2:13-23

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

This is a brutal story. A violent, paranoid king murders children to calm his fear.

It doesn’t help to say “at least Jesus survived.” It’s still a terrible story that’s not very welcome just days after celebrating Christmas. But every three years we hear this story on the First Sunday of Christmas. And this year, this Sunday falls on December 28, which actually is the feast of the Holy Innocents on the calendar.

This story hits far too close to home. The death of the children at Annunciation this past year was in our neighborhood. But there are so many massacres of children and adults all over this country on such a regular basis it’s hard to keep them straight. And in these days, to see a particular population targeted mercilessly by a ruler, well, that hits pretty close to home, too.

So why do we have to hear this now, at this time of year? Who cares if the tradition is that we do – can’t we just focus on “all is calm, all is bright” and have a respite?

We could. Except that misses the whole point of Christmas.

This world isn’t safe for children, or for the vulnerable. It’s incredibly dangerous.

And that’s why God came to us this way. God risked the salvation of the entire world on becoming one of us as a child in a world dangerous for children. God came to live with us, to grow as we grow, to bring about a healed world. Not to take over the world and fix it by force. But to lead the world back into love of God and love of neighbor. Even if the world killed the Son of God.

God cannot force us to be good. All the power to create a universe can’t do that. God can only lead us to be good. Lead us to be loving. Invite us to be our true selves, as God made us. Reveal the true power of self-giving love.

And the stakes are enormous. It’s entirely possible that this plan will fail, that people will go on being evil and the world will never get better. The last 2,000 years haven’t been promising.

But what if we’re missing the truth the good news, right in front of our ears?

You know when a baby or a young child has a meltdown, full volume?

It’s nearly impossible to hear yourself think. You can’t talk them through it, they’re screaming too loud. You can’t reason with a young child in such a state, either.

That’s God’s problem with us. Our noise, our conflict, our unwillingness to be changed, make it nearly impossible to hear what God is doing. Nearly impossible for God to get through to us.

There’s a stanza in “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear” that mostly gets omitted from hymn books. But that stanza, the one usually omitted, speaks as none of the others do to the pain and suffering of a world that is dangerous for children, a world full of oppression and wickedness. It says:

Yet with the woes of sin and strife the world has suffered long;
Beneath the heavenly hymn have rolled two thousand years of wrong;
And warring humankind hears not the tidings which they bring.

For 2,000 years the world has suffered in spite of the angels’ song of peace on earth, good will to all. The noise of our chaos, our fighting, our self-centeredness, our fear, overwhelms the song of the angels. Our need for God to be what we want God to be instead of who God really is closes our ears.

To be fair, from our point of view this plan isn’t a good one.

It’s inefficient, it’s risky, it makes little sense. It would have been neater and cleaner for God to take over the world and bring peace by force. And some days we wish God would do that. That’s our noise, too, our yelling – we can see only the way we would make things right. Anything else seems weak and ineffective.

But what if we actually stopped our complaints long enough to hear what God is doing, and has done? To understand that God has come to be in our hearts, to live with us and to change us. To bring peace to our lives and world through you. Through me. Through all who listen.

Love that is forced is not love. But love that is given, love that is willing to lose everything, that love has the strength to face the suffering and evil of this world and transform it into the peace on earth the angels promised. The peace on earth God always intended.

This is how God will make this world safe for children. And for you.

By putting you and me in front of them with our love. By changing our hearts so we work to make this world safe for them. By leading you, and me, and all people by the hand, until all are living in love of God and neighbor. That’s always the plan. And if you listen deeply, you’ll hear that in fact this love and peace has spread around the world in spite of all the evil and pain. It has touched you. It has touched others through you.

And if you can’t hear that, well, here’s the last line of that omitted stanza:

“Oh, hush the noise and cease your strife, and hear the angels sing.”

That’s where you can start today. Hush the noise of your complaining that God doesn’t come like you want and listen to the joy that God is already here. Hush the noise of your struggles with yourself and with others, the noise of self-centeredness, the noise of shouting at each other, the noise of hatred, the noise of wars, the noise of your fears, the noise of your mind overwhelmed by so much.

Hush all that noise and listen to the peace God is actually giving you. And all people. Listen to how this will actually work. Listen to the angels sing. They’ve got something very important to say.

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