The Holy Spirit is out of our control, and that’s the best news ever, because that means God’s love could actually bring about healing and hope for all.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Day of Pentecost, year C
Texts: Acts 2:1-21; John 14:8-17, 25-27

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 was a day of chaos.

The sound of rushing wind – think tornado noise – filled the air, something that looked like flames danced on a hundred and twenty heads, and a hundred and twenty voices spoke in multiple languages about what God is doing. Think of the confusing sound of just seven or eight languages saying the same thing at once that we just heard in our Acts reading, and multiply that by fifteen, and you get a sense of it.

We did not hear a doctrine of sanctification this morning. We heard a chaotic, brilliant, probably frightening, awe-inspiring, confusing, exciting scene in the middle of Jerusalem where the Holy Spirit of God was acting.

That’s where we need to stay. With the story. With what happened. And is happening. And this story proclaims the Spirit of the Triune God working in the world cannot be controlled. We aren’t in charge.

But rarely are we willing to let it sit there.

Since this moment in Jerusalem, theologians have formulated doctrines about the Holy Spirit. There’s nothing wrong with thinking about what this means. But when we take Scripture and build doctrines on top, those doctrines become what we try to trust. The more it’s codified, the further you get from God’s actual activity.

Virtually all our theology of the Spirit in the Western church was formulated by white men of European ethnicity. People like me. This doesn’t mean it’s wrong or bad. But when those white European-descent men say that how they understand God’s Spirit is the only way, we’re in trouble. I’ve personally heard a Lutheran theologian say to a student that you can’t bring your own experience or your sense of revelation into theology. As if our accepted theology is revelation handed down without change. That’s just ignorant. All theology is deeply shaped by the experience of the theologian.

Now, if you’re afraid the Spirit could do just anything anywhere, it’s convenient to pretend you’ve got the clean, non-experiential truth about her work. So you can control the message.

But if we see anything at Pentecost, it’s that the Spirit is out of control.

So let’s go back to the story. What actually happened that day?

Apart from the beautiful chaos and noise and preaching, ultimately a lot of people decided they wanted to join the believers that day. Luke says 3,000, which is a lot. But even if you think Luke might exaggerate, if he exaggerated by a full 1,000 percent that still leaves 300. That’s pretty amazing.

But what drew them to want this? Not a doctrine on the nature of the Triune God, or the Holy Spirit. Something in the whole amazing chaos of that day, in what the believers proclaimed about what God is doing, and the joy in their faces, drew them in. As with last week and our jailer, these people saw what the believers had and said, “Can we have that, too?”

And after this, this enlarged community shared everything with each other so no one went without, they worshipped and lived together. And they had the goodwill of everyone, Luke says. They were changed and others noticed. They were transformed by the Spirit of God and made a difference in the world. Stay with that story instead of making a doctrine about it and you’ll see God.

Staying with the story means giving up any hope that we can control the Spirit.

And that can frighten people, as we’ve seen throughout Christian history. What if someone says the Spirit is leading them to something that we don’t like? Like a theology that challenges us or a direction we haven’t thought of? Church history is littered with stories of hatred and ostracism and heresy trials and destruction because some Christians followed the Spirit in a way other Christians didn’t like.

And discerning where the Spirit is working is hard. Even on this Day of Pentecost some saw all of this and decided these one hundred and twenty women and men were drunk. If you can’t tell the difference between inebriation and the coming of the Spirit, shouldn’t someone be controlling this?

But if you want to believe and trust in the living Triune God whose Spirit blows wherever she wills, the answer is no. The Spirit of God is out of our control, according to all these stories.

But it’s not all wide open. We can reliably know if something is of the Spirit.

Look at what Jesus says today, in verses we also heard a couple weeks ago. The Spirit, the Paraclete (Advocate) is called alongside you and me and all God’s people, to remind us of all Jesus said.

That’s how you can discern. Just as you go back to Pentecost to see the truth of the uncontrollable Spirit, Jesus says the Spirit alongside you will send you back to what God’s Son said and did. You can know if something is of the Spirit when it’s consistent with Jesus.

And notice that Jesus didn’t teach a doctrine of justification, either. Jesus, God-with-us, is our justification. Jesus revealed the face of the Triune God for the creation, and it was and is a face of love and benevolence, of grace and forgiveness, of welcome and challenge.

If the Spirit truly works within the boundaries of what Jesus said and did, then if we see love of God and love of neighbor, love of enemies and prayer for persecutors, love for all those struggling and in need, love willing to lose itself for the sake of another, if we see anything of this heart of what Jesus said and did, we can trust that the Spirit is there. Even if we’re challenged or threatened by that movement.

And if someone claims the Spirit’s influence to do evil, to hate, hurt, oppress, to do violence of any kind, we know they’re not of the Spirit. The work and purpose of God is love, Jesus taught and showed, and the Spirit reminds us of that.

It’s good that we’re not in control.

We can’t imagine every way God’s love can change things, heal things, make a difference, and we don’t have to. That’s the Spirit’s job. And we can’t control where the Spirit moves and works because of our limited imagination. We might be standing in the way of God’s love and that we never want to do.

Pentecost shows that God is out of our control but bringing life to the creation, and that’s great news. Because if we really want this world to be healed, if we want all the pain and suffering in our country and world to be eased, all the hatred and destruction from even our highest elected leaders to be stopped, it’s wonderful that God’s got better ideas than we do and can’t control them. But we can get on board.

And do listen for the Spirit in your life, where she’s speaking to you, or calling you to new ways of healing and hope. They might be ways you hadn’t considered. But they will certainly bring life.

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

Our oneness with the Triune God is known and seen in the love of the Triune God that we bear in the world.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Seventh Sunday of Easter, year C
Texts: Acts 16:16-34 (also including Acts 16:11-15 from last week); John 17:20-26

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

The Roman jailer in Philippi asks a critical question: “What must I do to be saved?”

Paul and Silas have been stirring up Philippi for a bit now, as we heard last week and now today. Meeting people at the river and baptizing them, casting out a spirit from a slave that ended up causing financial stress for her owner and got them beaten and put in jail. And now singing hymns and praying in their prison cell.

That’s where the jailer enters. Ready to end his life because he’s sure everyone’s escaped in the earthquake, he finds these two prisoners who kept all the rest together. And whose first words are care for his well being: “Don’t harm yourself, we’re all here.” And the jailer asks, “Can I have what you have?”

But what did Paul and Silas have? What did the jailer see?

They were illegally beaten and jailed without a trial, against their rights as Roman citizens. But Paul and Silas don’t protest or complain. They sit in their cell, bloodied, and pray. They sing hymns to God, and the other prisoners start to listen. These disciples embody the love of God. Their peaceful worship in an unjust and painful situation, their concern for the jailer’s well-being proves that.

Paul and Silas aren’t preaching to the prisoners or the jailer. The prisoners see them for who they are and don’t try to escape. The jailer sees who they are, how they are, how they handle this terrible situation, and wants that. He wants salvation the way Paul and Silas live it, not how they preach it. A peace of mind and heart in any circumstance, a love for others that flows from them. They saved his life with their love. And so he’s baptized, along with his entire family.

And this opens up the story of Lydia from last week.

We heard that Paul and Silas and the others went to the riverside to a group of women who gathered there to pray, including non-Jewish women who believed in the God of Israel. Like Lydia. Luke says God opened Lydia’s heart to listen to them. And then Luke says Lydia and her household were baptized.

Maybe their preaching was just so good it drew in Lydia and the others. But these are the two who will soon be singing hymns and praying in their prison cell, who will love a Roman jailer into God’s reign. The Spirit used their words to open up the love of God to these riverside women. Enough that Lydia returned their love and invited them to stay in her home.

What we see in Philippi is exactly what Jesus is hoping for when he prays.

This so-called “high priestly prayer” of Jesus on the night of his betrayal is hard to track by listening. Lots of twisting phrases about Jesus being one with the Father, and we’re one with the Father and the Son. It’s beautiful, but it’s complicated grammar.

Here’s the simple heart of the prayer:

Jesus claims he, as God’s Son, is one with the one he calls Father, and that the Spirit is also one with them. His prayer is that all who learn to trust in God’s love in Christ might also share that oneness that the Trinity knows within their own life together.

And that oneness has just one center, one focus: love. As Jesus says today, the point of the Trinity making us and all humanity one with God is so that the love that is the life-blood of the tender heart of the Trinity may be in us, too.

In other words, our oneness with the Triune God will be known to the world when we love as the Triune God. When God’s vulnerable love shapes us and flows from us and is unmistakeable in us.

And look at what the love of God in Paul and Silas created.

It’s clear from Acts 16 that this is the birth of the Philippian congregation. It’s highly likely that they worshipped in Lydia’s house, that she hosted and led the Christian congregation that also included a Roman jailer and his family.

And Paul’s letters suggest this Philippian church was the community most beloved to Paul, whose support he always felt, whose love held him in his imprisonment. This amazing community of faith started with the love of God Paul and Silas bore among them.

Maybe you and I won’t found any Christian communities when we’re one in the Triune God’s love, when we bear it. But that’s not the point. That was their job. Who knows how God’s love in us will make a difference? The point is that when we are one with God in God’s love, are shaped and live by that self-giving, sacrificial love that we first knew from God, it will bless the world.

And maybe this is how the two different commissions Jesus gives are the same.

In Matthew and Luke, Jesus commissions the disciples as witnesses to the ends of the earth, as we heard last Thursday when we celebrated the Ascension. To make disciples. But in John it’s different. Three times the risen Christ says to Peter if you love me, care for my sheep. That’s the commission: if you love Jesus, care for the ones Jesus cares for.

But maybe it’s the same commission. Paul and Silas, bearing God’s love, caring for the ones the Triune God cares for, was the witness. Love drew people toward the reign of God, toward Christ.

It’s not our carefully articulated doctrines, our points of argument, that witness. It’s the vulnerable love of God we bear. A love that just might lead someone to ask you the jailer’s question: “Can I have that, too?”

And when you answer that question with love, you’ll change the world. Just as Jesus hoped and prayed.

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

 

Don’t look up hoping you’ll find Jesus in the last place you saw him. Look around, out, and in to the Holy Spirit sending you out to be Jesus in the world

Vicar Natalie Wussler
Day of Ascension
Text: Act 1:1-11; Psalm 47; Ephesians 1:15-23; Luke 24:44-53

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

“Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” 

That’s what the angels ask the apostles as they look toward heaven, staring at the place they last saw Jesus before he disappeared into a cloud. And it’s a jarring question. Jesus just… left. Their beloved friend and teacher, the one who turned their lives upside-down, who healed and welcomed sinners, the one they just saw die and rise was gone… AGAIN! What else could they do but bend their necks and strain their eyes to catch a final look at their risen and ascending friend? 

And it’s easy to understand why–because, if we’re honest, we look up, too. 

We look up, to find Jesus where we last saw him. We look up, searching for that same feeling, that same comfort, that same certainty, that same closeness we once did. We look up, wishing for our faith to feel easy and joyful again. We look up, hoping that maybe it’ll make the pain, the confusion, and the doubt go away. And maybe if we could find Jesus where we last saw him, life wouldn’t be so hard.

And even though we know that because of the ascension, Jesus fills everything and everyone and sends us out, even though we know that Pentacost is coming, even though we’ve heard stories of saints who stayed faithful to God despite all odds, and even though we’ve maybe even felt God’s presence in our own lives, we all still look up.

And if anyone knows about looking up, it’s me.

In the summer before my senior year, I felt broken. My junior year was full of heartache in my relationships and in my faith. I arrived at a Christian summer camp that I had worked at the summer before in serious need of Jesus. I was desperate for a faith that felt simple and easily joyful like it was the summer before. But instead my faith was easily breakable. I was easily breakable.

I kept looking up asking “where are you Jesus? Why do I feel so empty?” And one day I sat with the camp nurse and told her everything, and she just held me, cried with me, and prayed with me. She didn’t make the pain go away, but Jesus showed up in her arms as they held me, in the tears we cried together, and in prayers she prayed over me.

She showed me that Jesus was not up in the clouds, buried deep in my happy memories and my shallow hopes. No–Jesus is present, active, and responsive even in the hardest moments. And Jesus is never leaving.

And her love for me felt a lot like what the angels say to the apostles, “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” which, to me, sounds a lot like: “Don’t look up. He’s not there anymore.”

And that’s an invitation to you and to me
To get your head of the clouds and back onto earth
To see and join into where Jesus is now

And just like the apostles, who could no longer rely on Jesus’ audible voice to answer their questions or give them comfort
Just like they had to figure out where Jesus was now and how to be Jesus in the world,
We can’t rely on where Jesus was to see where Jesus is now.
We need to be brave and curious to look for Jesus in new ways.

Because, on Ascension Day, Jesus wasn’t gone. Jesus didn’t ascend into heaven and go somewhere we could never find him. Jesus ascended to heaven so he could be more present than ever. Jesus is no longer confined to a person, place, time, or memory. Jesus fills the world and walks beside you and beside me every step of our journeys. The risen and ascended Christ is the one in whom we live and move and have our being, as Paul says later in Acts. That means wherever you are, you’re known, you’re loved, you’re held by the one who holds all things together. And no matter where you go, Jesus is there–in your tears and your joy, in your questioning and your confidence, and in the voice of someone who says, “I see you. You’re not alone in this.”

And at the ascension, you and I and people all over the world throughout history are sent out to be the fullness of Christ’s presence in the world right now.  It’s how someone offering you a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen can feel like the presence of Jesus–because it is. And it’s how you become Jesus for someone else when you do the same, because the ascended Christ fills you and reigns within your heart. It’s the same spirit, but through your hands, your feet, your voice. It’s how in every meal we share, in every hand we hold out to someone in need, in every table we widen, in every cry of the oppressed, in this community gathered to worship, in the bread and the cup given for us, in our tears, and in our doubts, in you, and in me, whenever we act in love, Jesus is still teaching and revealing new things, still healing, still calling, still sending. It’s how we become Jesus’ ministry of hope and healing, and then we become the ones gently whispering to those around us “don’t look up. Jesus isn’t there. Jesus is here.”

So beloved, on this Ascension Day, hear this:

Don’t look up…Instead,

Look out–to the world that Christ sends you into. Look out for the places where Christ is still healing and feeding and teaching.

Look in–for the Holy Spirit who lives in you and fills you.

Look around–to the community of believers who remind you, like the angels remind the apostles, that Jesus is still here.

And maybe that’s why the apostles left the Mount of Olives in joy, praising God that day–

Because they had confidence that Jesus isn’t just in some heavenly realm far away, Jesus isn’t just in our memories. Jesus is right here, reigning in our hearts, sending the holy spirit to fill us and sending friends to remind us to look out, in, and around, not up. Sending us to be the healing presence of the risen and ascended Christ.

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

The Holy Spirit has a vocation to walk alongside you to help and assist you. And to do the same for the whole creation and all people.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Sixth Sunday of Easter, year C
Texts: John 14:23-29, with references to Lamentations 3 and Romans 8

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

What if God has a vocation, a calling?

We know God calls us to vocations. But is it possible that the Holy and Triune God who made the heavens and the earth is also called ? Only God has the authority to call God, so any vocation God has would somehow come from within the Trinity. This is more mystery than we can know, but we do have a precedent. The Scripture talks of the Father sending the Son, and since the Father and Son are one, as Jesus often says, that sending is from within the Trinity.

And so is this calling. Today Jesus says that the Father is giving us the Holy Spirit. Or, as Jesus names her, “the Advocate.” Somehow, inside the life of the Trinity, the Spirit is called to be with us. Because that word “advocate” is all about calling.

The Greek here is a word we struggle to translate to English.

In your Bible translations you might read “Comforter” or “Counselor” in verse 26. Some translations say “friend” or “helper.” All are aspects of this vocation.

But that it’s a vocation is clear from our current translation, “advocate,” a word English got from Latin, meaning “called to.” The Romans used the word as we still do, as someone who appeared on another’s behalf, or was a mediator, or an intercessor.

But in the original Greek it’s “paraclete,” and that’s the word to cling to. “Paraclete” literally means “called alongside.” A Paraclete is called alongside someone to be of assistance.

That’s our wonder: the Holy Spirit has a calling, a holy vocation, to come alongside you for your help, comfort, aid, counsel. It’s the Spirit’s job, not an optional activity.

Paul says the Spirit is your “called alongside person” as intercessor and mediator.

Just as an advocate in Rome would do those roles, so does the Spirit. Paul tells his Roman congregations in chapter 8 that the Spirit speaks on our behalf before God “with sighs too deep for words.”

The Spirit plumbs the depths of your heart and carries your heart into God’s heart. At all times, but especially when you don’t know what to say to God. The Spirit always knows your fears, your joys, your sorrows, your needs, your thanks. We still pray. But this connection is always flowing even without our words.

And Jesus and others in the Scriptures say it goes the other way, too. The Spirit, alongside you, speaks as God into your heart and mind and spirit, sometimes with sighs too deep for words, too. The Spirit is God’s way to communicate with you, reach you, talk to you, touch you.

One way the Spirit communicates is through the words of Scripture.

In Lamentations, Jeremiah is deep in grief and sorrow over Israel’s ruin. The book aches with pain.

But suddenly in the middle he stops lamenting for a moment and says, “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, God’s mercies never come to an end.” (3:21-22)

“This I call to mind,” he says. The Holy Spirit spoke those words to Jeremiah. Jeremiah knew the promise of God’s never-ending mercies is written throughout Scripture. But now in his deep need, the Spirit gently called this promise to Jeremiah’s mind. And he found hope. I know, because this same thing has happened to me.

I’ve struggled my whole life with fearing making mistakes. Mostly I feared that if I got things wrong, people would stop loving me, I’d be done. Over my life I’ve learned to trust the love of others and I don’t get too trapped in this anymore.

But I’ve also held that fear about God’s love. And this is where the Spirit has blessed me. More times than I can count, hundreds of times maybe, when I’ve been in fear or anxiety, I’ve heard this word, “Nothing, nothing can separate you from God’s love in Christ.” And I found hope, like Jeremiah. Walking alongside me, the Spirit always knows when I need a reminder and graciously gives it.

Jesus said today that the Spirit will remind you what he said. I’ve found the Spirit takes those reminders from all of Scripture, and they’ve saved my life.

But these aren’t the only ways the Spirit is alongside you.

The Spirit might fill you with an unexpected peace in the midst of turmoil. The Spirit might nudge you to do something, care for someone, say something. The Spirit might be a nagging voice telling you to change direction, go a different way. The Spirit might fill you with joy when you need it or courage when you’re afraid. These are just some of the ways I’ve felt the Spirit help me. Others could tell you about many more.

That’s why we need to be better about witnessing to each other. I don’t normally share my own personal things in sermons, as you know. But I did today because we need to be more bold in telling each other what we’ve known and experienced from God.

When you experience the Spirit’s help, tell someone. If you see the Spirit move in them, name that. We can be such gifts of grace to each if we’re willing to share what we’ve seen and heard and known from the Spirit. We can help each other know this presence.

God has a vocation, to be with you.

Let that sink in. It will change your life. If you want to really know this, find quiet places in your life, times for contemplation. When you can listen and actually hear, with no music or news or internet or phones or anything. If we’re so loud in every moment that we can’t hear ourselves think, how will we hear the Spirit’s voice? Read your Bible, too, so the Spirit has words to remind you of in your need. So: listen, watch, read, wait, trust, and you will know: you are not alone, you have help. God is alongside you.

And Jesus and the Scriptures say God’s Spirit is called alongside everyone, all God’s children, all creatures, the whole creation. That’s the joy. So whatever you fear about the world in these days, whatever anxiety you have about your life, know this: the Holy Spirit is called alongside all of that and she is there, working, loving, inspiring, healing.

That’s the job. That’s what the Holy Spirit is called to do. And it will be done.

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

 

God’s love is so expansive it crosses borders we consider uncrossable, and that brings us and the world healing and life.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fifth Sunday of Easter, year C
Texts: Acts 11:1-18; John 13:31-35

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

Pay attention: this the second time Luke told this story of Peter and Cornelius.

Want to know how many other stories Luke repeated? Two. He told the story of Jesus’ ascension at the end of his Gospel and again at the beginning of Acts. He told of Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus in chapter 9 of Acts and then twice again near the end.

And then there’s this story of Peter’s vision and his visit and stay with a Roman centurion. In chapter 10, Luke narrates the story as it happens. What we heard today, chapter 11, is Peter’s retelling.

So three key events were so important to Luke’s understanding of the Gospel he felt a need to reiterate them. And given the obvious importance of the first two, we need to pay attention to this story – one less known or celebrated – and why it’s so important.

Each of these three stories change the future of the newly emerging Church.

Jesus’ ascension reveals the mission of the church. In ascending, Jesus hands on his ministry of love and reconciliation to all who trust in him and follow. At the Ascension we learn God’s plan was always to have all of Christ’s followers become Christ for the healing of the world.

With Paul’s conversion, Jesus changes an enemy into an advocate. This conversion is a lived-out, visible example of the core commandment to love we heard today. Through love Jesus creates a servant of Christ for the ages, transformed from a zealous arrester of believers, an enemy of Christ, into the most influential evangelist and preacher ever to serve Christ.

Peter’s transformation foreshadows what Paul will boldly proclaim. Because in this story, the believers are told in no uncertain terms that God’s love and grace in Christ are for all people. What began as a Jewish movement is now offered to all God’s children. This was a massive shift, and transformed the church.

Pay attention, then, to understand what happened.

At this point, every Christian was Jewish. The Messiah was a Jewish promise, found in the Hebrew Scriptures. Jesus was a Jewish rabbi, attracted fellow Jewish people throughout Galilee and Judea. Luke says that after Pentecost the believers in Jerusalem still worshipped at the Temple. None of these believers imagined a Christian life that wasn’t embedded in their own Jewish faith practices, or a community in Christ shared with non-Jews.

And now Peter, one of their most important leaders, claims not only did he proclaim the Good News to Romans and stay in their home and have them baptized, but the Holy Spirit gave him a vision that all God has created are clean and welcome and loved, and the same Spirit poured out on those Romans, with the same results as what happened to the Jewish believers at Pentecost.

And Peter paid attention. He wisely thought, and said, “If the Spirit of God has already come to them, who am I to hinder God?” The Spirit made Peter’s baptism decision for him.

This shift wasn’t stable at first.

Instead of rejoicing that the Spirit had come to Gentiles and Peter had baptized them, the other members of the Jerusalem Christian community demanded answers. How could Peter allow this? What was he thinking? They wanted people to be filled with the Spirit and follow. Yet all they heard in Peter’s story is “it wasn’t the right kind of people who got the Spirit.”

Paul’s demands years later that the Jerusalem leadership approve the mission to the Gentiles made it officially acceptable to this community. It took time. Peter himself wavered a little and took steps back from this, which Paul angrily charges against him in the Galatian letter.

The new Church had to learn that God’s expansive love they so cherished was so expansive it would cross boundaries they thought were uncrossable.

Our challenge emerges already on Maundy Thursday, we heard again today.

Jesus commands the women and men in the Upper Room to love one another as he loves them, we heard today. This will be the only sign of whether they are his disciples, if they have love for one another.

But is “love one another” focused only on insiders? “Love the people in your faith community as I have loved you”? Maybe. But this is the Jesus who commanded love of enemies and prayer for those who persecute. Who forgave all involved with his crucifixion while he was being nailed to the cross. Who draws all people and all things into God’s life through his cross. Jesus never meant “love one another” as purely insider love.

As Peter learned in his vision and visit with Cornelius and his household. As the Church gradually learned in its conflict with Paul. We’re always needing to catch up to where the Triune God is moving and loving and bringing life. So it’s a lesson we need to learn, too.

So pay attention to God’s Spirit, like Peter.

Keep your eyes open to where God is leading you and the Spirit is moving. And learn to answer like Peter, “who am I to hinder God?”

Jesus claimed God’s Spirit lives in you, in me, in all people, not just those called as prophets, or rulers, or priests. He said that when you look at the face of any other person, you see the face of God. In the faces of those who are hungry, thirsty, naked, sick, imprisoned, or strangers. In the face of your neighbor. Or the one who hurt you. Or in your enemy.

So, pay attention and you’ll see God’s Spirit at work in them, and in all people. If you don’t divide the world between those God can love and those God can’t, but rather say “God is in everyone,” you’ll see the need for your love to be as expansive as God’s. Otherwise, as Peter realized, you’ll be hindering God.

This won’t be easy. It wasn’t for Peter and the others.

We know God’s love is so expansive it crosses borders we consider uncrossable. And that that means life for us and for all. But we make those borders so solid. It’s hard to imagine them breaking open.

But they did back then, and God’s love spread across the whole world. So if you and I can start loving enemies and hateful people, praying for them, hoping for God’s grace for them, can we not expect the same transformation today? Where enemies become advocates, like Paul? Where divisions are healed and oppression is broken down and all God’s children find life and healing in God’s love and in each other?

Maybe we’re still stuck in the first verses of today’s reading, demanding someone account for how this is a good thing. But if we’re wise, we’ll pay attention to what God is saying and doing, and maybe we’ll find the same joy Peter and Cornelius found. And even see God changing this world in our day.

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