Douglass Church - Douglass Blvd Christian Church

Why does God identify so strongly with these, the powerless?

Well, for one thing, God created us … all of us. And afterward, God paused to consider the fine craftsmanship of God’s hands. Apparently, God was heard to say, 'That’s pretty dang good! No … Yeah, that’s excellent!'

So, it stands to reason that God might take more than a little exception to watching those whom God has so lovingly called forth into existence have their dignity trampled. Their lives are threatened, either by those who actively seek to exploit the defenseless or those who commit their violence through neglect. God has always seen those who remain invisible, unseen to so many.

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc

When we read about vulnerable people being evicted and left to survive in the streets, we find a way not only to help feed and shelter but to agitate for justice in housing.

When we witness White nationalists openly advocate bigotry and threaten violence, we don't sit idly by and hope everything turns out all right; we take sides.

We followers of Jesus not only sound the alarm, we figure out a way to be in the middle of it—organizing, protesting, lobbying, healing, dispensing the mercy denied by the merciless

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc

But God says, “If everything else you do isn’t motivated by your love of the imperiled and unremembered, then it’s worse than if you’d done nothing at all. If you’d done nothing, at least that would be an honest admission that you don’t understand. As it is, you take for granted you already know what I want. But that’s the thing: there’s no way to know what I want without looking into the eyes of those who’ve been cast aside.”

“Do you know what I really want?” God says. “I want justice to roll down like water and righteousness like an everflowing stream. And I want you to be all mixed up in the middle of it.”

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc

Double-click to edit...

Caesar’s always going to want what Caesar wants. Wall Street. Madison Avenue. They vie for our attention like it’s their birthright. There are so many claims placed upon our loyalties ... from every direction.

And, sometimes, that which pursues us most relentlessly is our own desire to be in control, to be ourselves, gatekeepers of God’s mercy. We in the church have been guilty of spurning the gifts people bring to God. But Jesus isn’t having it.

Jesus says, "Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar; give to God what belongs to God. But here’s the thing: It all belongs to God."

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc

Unlike Matthew's original readers, when Jesus started talking about a King giving a wedding banquet, his audience wouldn't have immediately made the connection between the King in the parable and God. They would be much more likely to see their own cultural struggles in this King—who, let's be honest, seems pretty vindictive and pouty.

No, “vindictive and pouty” would have described not their vision of God but of a genuine political figure in their own world—somebody like King Herod Antipas. Jesus' listeners knew about arbitrary rulers who pursued their self-aggrandizing interests at the expense of the people they were supposed to protect. It seems clear that the King feels like everyone, but he is unworthy. This King feels like he's always walking around searching for somebody new to be disappointed with.

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc

Jesus heads into the vineyard to cheers of “Hosanna. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” But he can read the political tea leaves. He’s got a pretty good idea where this story is headed.

So, it should be no great surprise to learn that Jesus is a little testy—even in the face of the palm branches. He knows which way the political wind is blowing—but he walks into the vineyard anyway.

The parable ends. The fate of the vineyard is yet unresolved. But we know that already, don’t we? We’ve seen too much injustice two thousand years in to believe the vineyard has changed much.

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc

If you’re starting a revolution, you don’t have to follow the same rules designed to keep power in the hands and for the benefit of those convinced the world was made for them.

You don’t have to live in fear—the kind of fear necessary to make a world where some have and some do not, where some get justice, and some silently cry themselves to sleep at night, certain that justice is just a word used to protect the powerful and punish the weak.

You don’t have to choose between violence and passivity. If you’re starting a revolution, if you’re committed to following the Jesus whom the powerful killed to make a point, you’ve got choices.

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc

Real-life virtues—the ones that help us live real lives and not just "impressive” lives among those closest to us—are the kinds of virtues necessary for us to live together in community. These soft virtues like the ability to live and speak truthfully, to be a person others consider trustworthy (and not just being reliable about taking out the garbage, but about being worth the trust necessary to hold the vulnerability of others with gentleness and care), to be able to forgive (especially those who deserve it least), to have good boundaries that communicate where “you” end and “I” begin. These are the kinds of virtues that allow us to live not just in the memory of those who matter most to us but deeply and lastingly in their hearts.

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc

In embracing the cross, Jesus’ followers can say of empire at its most blood-thirsty, “Is this the best you’ve got? God’s got an even more astonishing trick up God’s sleeve. It’s a little something we call ‘Easter.’”

Subscribe to us on iTunes!

Sermon text: web | doc