Year A – Pentecost 10; Lectionary 18 – August 2, 2026
Pastor Megan Floyd
Romans 9:1-5
Grace and peace to you from God, who is faithful and trustworthy, from the Holy Spirit, who is with us always, and from Jesus Christ, the source of our salvation. Amen.
***
In that passage from Romans that Tabitha just read… could you hear the heartbreak in Paul's words? Could you hear his anguish over his Jewish siblings who had not come to follow Christ?
He muses on the possibility of giving up his own place with Jesus… if only it meant they would not be forgotten.
Just as Moses tried to offer himself up as a sacrifice for his people after the regrettable golden calf incident… Paul offers himself.
Except… God's gifts are not ours to trade, and his sacrifice is not needed, for our God is full of compassion, and God's promises are grounded in mercy.
This brief passage from Romans marks the beginning of Paul's lengthy theological wrestling with how God's covenant with Israel remains trustworthy even as he has been called to proclaim the risen Christ to the Gentiles.
It comes immediately after one of the most beloved passages in all of Scripture—that triumphant declaration that nothing in all of creation can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
And then… almost without warning, Paul is overcome with sorrow. He doesn't launch the next theological point with an argument… He begins with tears.
This past Thursday evening, the book study group spent some time talking about Abraham Lincoln, which got me thinking.
History reminds us that Lincoln's views on slavery developed over time. Early in the Civil War, he often spoke of preserving the Union as his highest constitutional duty. Yet after years of unimaginable suffering, after hundreds of thousands of lives had been lost, he stood before the nation at his Second Inaugural Address and called the country not to vengeance, but to healing: "With malice toward none; with charity for all."
Winning the war was one thing, but… healing the nation was another.
There is an enormous difference between winning an argument and loving people.
Paul could have begun Romans 9 by praising himself for being on the right team… but instead, he says, "I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart."
That is what the love of Christ looks like. …Paul's anguish is not rooted in judgment. It is rooted in love.
He is a Jewish man whose heart is breaking because the people he loves most have not come to know Christ as he has… He has not stopped loving them. He has not written them off… He has not declared them beyond God's reach.
His heart aches because they are still his family… and isn't that a feeling we know?
Perhaps your heart aches for a child who no longer comes to church.
A spouse who once believed but no longer does. …A sibling who walked away after being hurt.
A dear friend whose faith quietly faded.
Maybe you have sat in worship and instinctively looked toward the place where someone used to sit.
There is grief in those empty places.
Sometimes people leave because life pulls them in different directions.
Sometimes they leave because they no longer recognize Christ in the church.
And sometimes… and we must confess this honestly… sometimes they leave because the church has pushed them away.
Our LGBTQIA+ siblings.
People living with disabilities whose gifts were overlooked.
People who asked hard questions. …People who never quite fit the mold.
We print "All Are Welcome" on our signs... We proclaim it from our pulpits. But sometimes… unintentionally… our actions tell another story.
However a person leaves… it hurts. …Paul understands that pain.
But beneath Paul's grief is an even deeper question.
Can God be trusted?
If God's chosen people have not all embraced Christ, have God's promises somehow failed?
That is the question Paul spends the next three chapters wrestling with.
Truthfully, it is our question too. Can I trust God? …Can I trust grace?
Can I trust forgiveness? …Can I trust that God's promises really are for me… or do I still have to prove myself?
We live in a world that teaches us every blessing must be earned.
Work harder. …Do better. …Be more successful.
Even in the church, we quietly slip back into believing that if we pray enough, serve enough, forgive enough, then maybe God will be pleased with us.
We do this… even as we know better.
We preach grace… and yet we keep trying to earn what has always been God's gift.
This is what drove Martin Luther nearly mad until he followed Paul's writing through the theological working out that finally led him… to grace.
(…and a complete, unintended reformation of the Catholic church)
Paul wrote, "I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people."
It is a breathtaking statement… but Paul cannot save them any more than we save the people we love.
Because Christ already has.
Paul says, "I wish I could offer myself." …and Jesus says, "I already have."
That is the Gospel… right there in a nutshell.
Christ has already carried the burden we cannot carry. Christ has already accomplished the salvation we could never accomplish.
Which means the fate of those we love does not rest on our shoulders.
It rests in the hands of the God whose mercy is deeper than our understanding and whose faithfulness is greater than our fears.
As theologian Mary Beth Anton reminds us, Paul ultimately must place his beloved people into God's hands… and so must we.
Perhaps that is why I love what happens every time we share the meal of holy communion.
The bread is broken, the wine is poured… Christ gathers us together.
And yet… I suspect… every one of us can think of someone we wish were here with us.
Someone whose voice used to join ours in singing. …Someone who drifted away. Maybe someone who was wounded by the church… or someone who is angry with God.
Every Communion table has empty places we wish were filled. …Paul knows exactly what that feels like.
But this table also reminds us of something else.
This table does not belong to us.
It belongs to Christ, and it is Christ who invites us… who welcomes us… and it is Christ who feeds us.
Jesus Christ… who gives himself for the life of the world.
The promises made here do not depend upon our worthiness. …They depend upon God's faithfulness.
That is why Paul continues his wrestling all the way through Romans 11 before arriving at one of the most beautiful conclusions:
"The gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable." (Rom 11:29)
Not temporary or conditional. They are irrevocable.
And then he goes even further:
"For God has imprisoned all in disobedience so that God may be merciful to all." (Rom 11:32)
Paul does not say God is merciful only to those who have earned it… He says God's mercy is for all… because every one of us stands in need of it.
Our Jewish ancestors were the first recipients of God's covenants, God's promises, God's steadfast love. Through Christ, we have been graciously grafted into that same family tree.
We have not replaced them; we have been welcomed alongside them into God's unfolding story of salvation. And the God who was faithful to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Leah is the same faithful God who remains true to every promise made in Christ.
That is why theology should never become detached from compassion.
If our understanding of God does not make us love more deeply, then we have misunderstood God. (x2)
Every page of Scripture tells the story of our God whose mercy continually reaches farther than we imagined.
It tells of our God in Christ who feeds the hungry because he has compassion for them… stories of our God who refuses to abandon God's people.
Story after story of our God whose love is stronger than our failures… whose promises are trustworthy even when we cannot yet see how they will be fulfilled.
So today, we come to this table with gratitude, carrying the names of people we love. We bring our grief and our questions… and even our doubts.
We come wondering how God is still at work in lives we cannot control.
And Christ places bread into our hands and says, "This is my body, given for you."
Not because we earned it, or because we understood everything. …But because mercy is who God is.
And when we leave this place, we'll go… trusting what Paul finally came to trust: that the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable… and that nothing will ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
And because that promise is true, we can live with hope instead of despair, and with hearts that are continually shaped by the mercy we ourselves have received.
Amen.
