As with so much about God, this remains a mystery. But God’s Word appears to be the active presence of God in the world. So God’s Word is God at work in the world. In the beginning, God’s Word took the form of spirit and voice, which means that the creative presence of God is free and unpredictable, filled with surprises, speaking an amazing universe into existence and sustaining it every day. And understand, what we have in the Bible more than anything is not a set of facts, but a picture. It’s a picture of God at work. It’s a picture of God’s intimate, life-giving presence to the universe and to each one of us. And that presence is called God’s Word.

Not being able to forgive can make you feel uncomfortable, like you have a pebble in your shoe. And the problem is, if you don’t deal with it, it’ll leave you sore, maybe even limping. So I want to say something more about forgiveness this morning. And that’s probably unavoidable given our culture. Because our culture doesn’t practice forgiveness so much, not real forgiveness. We dissemble when we ought to apologize. “I’m sorry if you were hurt,” we say. And we dismiss when we ought to forgive. “Don’t worry about it,” we say. “It was nothing.” But ours isn’t the only culture.

The Christian and the Christian community have a default inclination in the direction of forgiveness. We are forgiving people and we are a forgiving community, or we are not Christian in any meaningful sense of that word.

Imagine a community living in the midst of a city—whether first-century Rome or twenty-first-century Houston or Columbus—imagine a community living in the midst of a city, a community characterized by love, a community filled to overflowing with the kindness and generosity of God. Imagine how a good caricaturist would draw that community. That’s what Paul urges the church in Rome to be. And that’s what he urges us to be, too.

We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. And they’re watching to see how we run. They’re watching to see if we turn aside to the right or to the left. They’re watching to see if we wait upon the Lord. They’re watching to see if we look for the Lord to make us strong, so we can run and not grow weary. They’re watching to see if we sprout wings and fly, like Usain Bolt!

Do you ever wonder why you have faith in Jesus? Whether your faith is strong and stable or weak and wavering, where did it come from to begin with? How is it that you have faith, when somebody else doesn’t? That’s a good question, though the answer doesn’t lie with us. Whether we’re talking about your faith and my faith, about John Calvin’s faith and Mother Theresa’s faith, about the martyr Stephen’s faith and the Virgin Mary’s faith—faith in Jesus is always given by God.

This place, this home, has left its mark on us. Think of all the songs we’ve sung in this room. Think of all the prayers we’ve said here. Think of the baptisms. Maybe you or your kids or your grandkids: baptized here. Think of all the times the Body and Blood of Christ were given for you and for me and for so many others right here in this holy space. Think of the couples united in marriage here. Think of the saints whose final stop was in this room.

The man is desperate to find help for his son. Jesus assures him that everything’s going to be okay—if only he has faith. The man’s response is famous, frank, and honest. He says, “I do believe. Help me with my unbelief.” Did you catch that? Belief and unbelief are living together in the man’s heart. With him faith and doubt are next-door neighbors. And we’re not surprised by that. We know all about it from personal experience. There’s nothing unusual about faith and doubt existing in combination.

Whether it’s one miracle, like parting the Red Sea, or a day-full of miracles, like healing the sick, feeding thousands, and walking on water—whether it’s one miracle or many, what’s the point? We normally think of miracles as demonstrations of God’s power. And they are that. The Old Testament says miracles happen by God’s “mighty hand and outstretched arm.” So, yes, miracles are about power, God’s power. But more than anything, a miracle is a sign of God’s presence. A miracle means God is here. God is here in this place, here in this moment, here in this event, here in this person.

When Jesus set out on his public mission, he said, “The Kingdom is here.” And true enough, there were signs of the Kingdom everywhere he went. The deaf began to hear, and the blind began to see. The hungry sat down to eat, and the dead rose up to live. And while religious professionals plotted against Jesus, prostitutes and tax collectors welcomed the Good News. No wonder there’s a note of optimism in the two little stories Jesus tells us today.