On the Fifth Sunday of Easter, Fr. Alan Bentrup preaches from Acts 7, John 14, and 1 Peter 2 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Keller, Texas.

Two of the most misused texts in the New Testament show up in this week's readings. John 14 has been turned into a border checkpoint. 1 Peter 2 has been stamped onto a flag. Both readings have been used to draw the circle small and keep people out.

But then Luke slips a single sentence into the story of Stephen's martyrdom: the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul.

The man who wrote half the New Testament was holding the coats.

This sermon asks what it means to worship a God whose mercy is bigger than our categories, bigger than our politics, bigger than our preferences, and bigger than the lines we have drawn around who deserves it.

St. Martin's Episcopal Church | Keller, Texas

Easter 5, Year A | Acts 7:55-60, Psalm 31, 1 Peter 2:2-10, John 14:1-14

What does it mean that the risen Jesus keeps saying the same thing? To frightened disciples behind a locked door. To Thomas in his doubt. Over and over: "Peace be with you."In this Easter Sunday sermon at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Keller, Texas, Fr. Alan explores John 20:19-31 and what the resurrection has to do with a plumber named Mike Jesus, a week of doubt, and the moment every Sunday when a room full of people turns toward each other and says the peace.Jesus does not wait for the fear to lift. He does not wait for the doubt to resolve. He walks in and says it anyway.That is not a small thing. That is the resurrection moving through a room.St. Martin's Episcopal Church | Keller, TexasSecond Sunday of Easter | Year AJohn 20:19-31

All week we have been listening.

A crowd. Water poured out. 

A hammer. 

And then silence.T

onight the ground shook.

In this Great Vigil of Easter service from St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Keller, Texas, Fr. Alan offers a brief reflection on what the resurrection actually sounds like: not a quiet next chapter, but an earthquake. The sound of a door torn off its hinges from the inside. The sound of death discovering it has been outsmarted.

Hell made its move on Friday. It looked like a victory.

It was not a victory.

And no one has ever said that better than John Chrysostom. Written in the fourth century and never improved upon, his Paschal Homily is one of the great proclamations of the Christian faith. Rather than compete with it, Fr. Alan steps aside and lets Chrysostom preach.

Listen.

The Sounds of Holy Week

St. Martin's Episcopal Church | Keller, Texas

Scripture: Matthew 28:1–10

Easter is not optimism.

The people in this story are not people for whom hope came easy. They watched their friend die. They buried him. They came back to the tomb in the dark because they didn't know where else to go.

Jeremiah wrote to survivors who had lost everything: the people who survived the sword found grace in the wilderness. Not after the wilderness. In it.

That is the world Mary Magdalene is living in when she comes to the tomb before sunrise. She is not coming in hope. She is coming because grief pulls you back to the last place you saw someone.

And then Jesus says her name.

One word. One syllable. The whole resurrection in a single breath.

In this Easter Day sermon from St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Keller, Texas, Fr. Alan explores what resurrection actually sounds like. Not a trumpet blast over easy circumstances. 

A name spoken quietly to someone in the wilderness. To someone who came expecting nothing.

Grace does not wait for you on the other side of the wilderness. 

It meets you inside it.

He is already ahead of you. Already calling.

The Sounds of Holy Week

St. Martin's Episcopal Church

Keller, Texas

Scripture: John 20:1–18

You know this sound.

The hammer comes down. The nail bites in. The sound is blunt and final and it does not apologize for itself.

In this Good Friday sermon from St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Keller, Texas, Fr. Alan sits with that sound and refuses to move past it too quickly. Because before we get to Easter, we have to hear what love actually sounds like when it goes all the way.

It was not only the soldiers swinging the hammer. It was our failures, our denials, our wounds carried and wounds caused, that drew Jesus to the cross. Not to crush us with guilt. But to show us the length he was willing to go.

For us. Because of us. All the way to this.

The silence after the hammer is real. We do not explain it away. We do not rush past it. We just hold, quietly, the possibility that it does not have the last word.

Tomorrow is silence. Sunday is coming.

St. Martin's Episcopal Church | Keller, Texas

Scripture: John 18:1–19:42

On the night before his crucifixion, Jesus picked up a basin and poured water.In this Maundy Thursday sermon from St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Keller, Texas, Fr. Alan explores the soundscape of the upper room: the water poured out, Peter's protest, the silence of sleeping disciples, and the kiss of a friend who had already decided to betray him.All of it. And still the water kept pouring.This is not a lesson in servant leadership. It is the sound of a love that does not wait for you to deserve it, does not pause when you resist it, and does not stop when you betray it.St. Martin's Episcopal Church | Keller, TexasScripture: John 13:1–17, 31b–35

The healing in John 9 is not the good news. Not for this man.The moment he receives his sight, everything else starts falling apart. His neighbors don’t recognize him. The Pharisees interrogate him twice. His own parents hand him over in the middle of his trial to protect themselves. And by the end of the chapter, he has been thrown out of his community, his synagogue, and every structure that was supposed to hold him.He did nothing wrong. And he ends up completely alone.But then verse 35 arrives, quiet and easy to miss: Jesus heard that they had cast him out. And Jesus goes looking for him.That is the good news of John 9. Not the healing. The finding. Jesus moving deliberately toward the one that everything else moved away from.This sermon is part of our Lenten series Listen to Jesus, preaching through the Gospel of John.📖 John 9:1-41🕊️ Preached at St. Martin’s Episcopal Church | Keller, Texas📅 Lent 4

She didn’t come to the well at noon by accident. She came because it was the only time no one else would be there. She had arranged her whole life around not being seen.And Jesus was already waiting.In John 4, Jesus crosses every boundary that should have kept him silent — and has the most theologically rich conversation in the Gospel with a Samaritan woman who has known grief, loss, and the weight of surviving in a world that didn’t give her many choices. He sees all of it. He names it. And he doesn’t look away.This is what Lent is actually about. Not sin management. Not spiritual performance. Being seen — fully, honestly, completely — and discovering that grace meets us there.This is the third sermon in our Lenten series Listen to Jesus, preaching through the Gospel of John. If you’re exploring faith, returning to church, or just trying to make it through the week, this one is for you.

In this sermon from St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Keller, Texas, Father Alan explores one of the most honest questions people ask in the dark: Does God really love? Drawing from John 3:1–17 and the story of Nicodemus, this message unpacks the radical scope of John 3:16, what it means that God loved the world, and why that changes everything.

This sermon is part of the Lent series Listen to Jesus at St. Martin's Episcopal Church.

What does Lent really mean? Sometimes it’s not found in grand gestures or perfect spiritual disciplines, but in ordinary interruptions.

In this Ash Wednesday reflection, I share a simple encounter at the gym that completely reframed how I see Lent. An old friend, recovering from surgery and carrying concern for his wife’s upcoming procedure, asked me to pray for him. It happened because my routine had shifted. A different gym. A different time. An unexpected moment.

Lent is a season of disruption. Ash Wednesday reminds us, “Remember that you are dust.” Not to shame us, but to wake us up. To slow us down. To make us interruptible by grace.

In this video, we explore:

• The spiritual meaning of Ash Wednesday

• Why Lent is about more than giving something up

• How routine keeps us on autopilot

• What it means to be present to God and others

• Finding holy moments in ordinary life

If you are looking for a thoughtful Christian reflection on Lent, spiritual growth, prayer, and everyday faith, this message is for you.

#AshWednesday #LentReflection #ChristianLife #Prayer #FaithInEverydayLife #SpiritualGrowth