Weekend Homilies

Did you hear something that resonated with you? Are you looking to reflect on the weekend homily?

No need to worry! The homily will be made available here in both written and audio form some time during the following week. Click on the links below to take you to a specific homily.

first sunday of advent

First Sunday of Advent
 
These are tough days to decide what to wear, aren’t they? We are between those warm, sunny days of the fall, and dead of winter where the ice age has descended upon us once again.  These are the days of layers: You know- when you dress with layers of clothes because the mornings are cold but there is a chance that the warmth of the sun will allow us to shed a layer or two.  

I see it with the construction workers on the job site – they come prepared for cold with bulky layers on top and bottom, but on a nice, warm day a lot of those layers get shed. I see it with the kids on the playground – they are dressed for the North Pole in the morning but by afternoon recess they’re down to the short-sleeved shirts. It’s the season of layers.

It’s also how the church introduces Advent to us through the scriptures, as well, not with layers of clothes but with layers of scripture. We live out liturgically what we have to deal with every day of our lives. We gear up with anticipation to celebrate Christmas and the birth of the child, Jesus, and yet our scriptures call to prepare for the End of Time. We hear the voice of the prophet Jeremiah telling us that the great promise God made will be fulfilled, but we hear the voice of Jesus tell us that people will die of fright in anticipation of what is coming. Paul urges us to abound in love here and now, and Jesus urges us to pray that we have the strength to escape the tribulations that are imminent. Advent so covers us in layers of scripture that we can prepare for the gentle Jesus-Child and the coming of Jesus-Judge at the end of time!

Which is good news, because the situations we find ourselves in the world are equally juxtaposed. We saw the joy of a holiday parade in Waukesha overshadowed by tragedy and death. The hope of ending the pandemic stands in contrast to the uncertainty that surrounds yet another variant. Our country is dealing with political factions and divisions that threaten the assumed stability of democracy. Even the church is not immune to uncertainty! Do we revert back to more stable times or do we trust in the Holy Spirit leading us forward?

Every one of us approaches these days differently because our own personal experiences, whatever it is that we are dealing with right now may cause us to add layers of protection because of anxiety, or shed layers in confidence of stability. Some days we anticipate something better is to come; other days we dread what tomorrow will bring. We are confident of abundance and we are fearful of loss. If we were honest, we’re probably all a little bit of both.  
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That’s why Advent is such a perfect Season of the church – it reminds us that no matter where we are in the midst of life’s experiences, no matter what we are dealing with at the moment, no matter what decisions await us or what blessings or challenges are around the corner - we are never outside of God’s embrace of love. No matter our sinfulness or our saintliness, we are never beyond the reach of God’s mercy and forgiveness. No matter how stable and sure we feel at the moment or how shaky the ground we tread, there is never a moment on our journey where we are not under the watch of God’s protection.
Advent reveals the God whose birth we await to celebrate AND the God who promises to be there at the end of time and every moment in between. Emmanuel- God with us now.

Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 7, 2021
 
We have, in our culture, no shortage of codified laws: civil, criminal, corporate, tax laws. Even the Catholic Church has its own code of Canon Law. And while all these laws may be grounded in virtue and tradition and even faith, they are man-made laws. There are also laws written into nature by the Creator: Laws of physics and laws of evolution and laws of cosmic expansion.

Today I want to focus on yet another law, a law that can’t be codified or proven by science, the Law of Gift. In its simplest form it reads like this: “Your being increases in the measure you give it away.”  In other words, if you want to be loved, you first have to give love. If you want more faith, try sharing your faith with someone else. If you want to be forgiven, give forgiveness. If you are starved for joy in your life, bring joy into others’ lives. If you want to be held in honor, lift someone else up in honor first. If you want to really be rich, make someone else rich.  –  Your being increases in the measure you give it away.

The stories of the widows in the scriptures today serve as an image of the Law of the Gift, but more than that. They take us to another level and teach us that the only way for the Divine to come into our lives is if there is space for the Divine to dwell. They teach us that we make that space for the Divine by what happens when we give, when we sacrifice. What becomes clear is that it’s not just what we do from our end, but what God can do.

The names of the widow and her son have long been forgotten, if they were ever known, but what they did that day so many centuries ago when the prophet visited them continues to offer hope for a world today. Their willingness to give their last loaf of bread and their last drop of oil will forever call people out of self-preservation and into sacrificial generosity. We do our part, and God promises that the jar of flour will not go empty and the jug of oil will never run dry.

The two small coins the poor widow dropped into the treasury could have easily gone unnoticed that day, but it did not. Jesus noticed it, and that story has been told for two thousand years, as if we witnessed it ourselves. It speaks to a place in hearts that is prepared to know the fullness of love to which the world is called. It is a fullness that, with our human efforts, no matter how small and insignificant, God can fulfill.

A long time ago a young man by the name of Jesus made a choice to give the only thing he had left to offer - his life on a cross. To most of the world that act of generosity went unnoticed. To others it was seen as a waste of life that could have been avoided. But God took that sacrifice, that act of giving, and turned into THE moment that has transformed all of history and every vision of tomorrow. We participate in that act of sacrifice every time we come together to celebrate Mass.

When we come together to celebrate Mass we offer God what little we have – a little time, a sometimes-fragile faith and wondering mind, a plate of bread and a sip of wine. That’s all we have. But from that, God gives us the strength to endure whatever challenge we are facing or will face tomorrow; God give us a heart to love beyond our little circle of comfortability - eyes to see his Presence where we could never see it before and ears to hear voices that would otherwise go unnoticed. God gives us healing and hope in a way that nothing else in this world can offer.
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Our generosity and compassion, our acts of charity and sacrifices of time, our willingness to part with our treasures and the courage to give of our time and hearts - these are all things that will most likely make a difference in our lives, maybe even in someone else’s. We can fill a belly with food, calm a fear or help balance a budget of a parish or charity. But all of that, good as it is, is but a whisper to what God does in that space we leave behind. The jar of flour will not go empty and the jug of oil will never run dry.   

Audio Recording

solemnity of christ the king

Solemnity of Christ the King
November 21, 2021
  
On Thursday, I was celebrating Mass with the school kids and started the homily singing a Kermit the Frog song (It’s Not Easy Being Green). About half-way through they were looking at me like I had three heads and I realized – they had no idea who Kermit the Frog was. I’m clearly getting too old for this.
 
So, it is with some trepidation to ask you this: Do you know the story of Ferdinand the Bull? If not, let me get you up to speed. Ferdinand is a bull who appears large and intimidating like bulls with big horns do. But Ferdinand would rather smell flowers in the pasture; he was a gentle soul. That is, until one day he is attacked by a bee. He was jumping and running and snorting and kicking up his heels.
 
Right at that moment, some men saw him and they think that he is just the bull they have been looking for: strong, angry, ready to charge; the perfect bull for the bullfight!  The only problem was – and they had no idea   -Ferdinand was not a fighter. When the time for the big fight with the matador comes, instead of charging like they were expecting, Ferdinand walks to the center of the arena, sits down, and begins to smell all the flowers. He refuses to battle.
  
When Christ arrived on this earth, there was also an expectation in the culture of what kingship would look like - a mighty and strong ruler to be feared, a commander of armies, a fierce protector of his kingdom, ever ready and willing to go to battle with the enemy. So, when the chosen people were waiting for the Messiah, this was also part of their expectation: they were looking for a king that would be a fighter.
 
And they got God’s version of Ferdinand: Jesus, the poor son of a carpenter, a gentle healer who lifted up the lowly, ate with the sinners, kept company with the outcasts of society, and chose the least wealthy and least educated people to be his closest followers.
 
It is why in Jesus' time on earth—even while he was doing miracles and teaching the parables and leading hearts ever closer to the Kingdom of God-- he was clearly not what the people expected, not the king they believed they had been promised. And for most, not the king they wanted. 
 
I’m not sure we’re all that different some days still in our expectation of Jesus, that we don’t fall back into that same mentality. Think about how we sometimes pray. We want Jesus to be on our side and assume he will be. (The problem is, so do they.) We expect him to conquer the enemy, reduce our adversaries to humility. We pray to Jesus that our team will win, that we will end up on the top of the pile, that our people remain in power no matter what it takes.
 
But as followers of Christ, we can’t proclaim that we belong to the Kingdom of God and act as if we don’t. We can’t give lip service to Jesus a few minutes a week and then call him into our battles the rest of the week.
 
On Christ the King Sunday, we are reminded that Christ, the King, conquered the world with love, not power. We celebrate Christ the King who fought the enemy of sin with forgiveness, not vengeance. We honor Christ the King who seeks nothing more than a place in our hearts.
 
On Christ the King Sunday we are reminded that he continues to lead us, not with fear or intimidation, but with patience and mercy. He commands us to sow peace, not go to battle. He calls us to use the weaponry of Love and Mercy to conquer hatred and violence and apathy. Just like he did in his time, Jesus turns the very concept of king and power upside-down and demands that we do the same. 
    
Perhaps it is not the way the world expects, but most assuredly the way that will exceed our every expectation. 

Thirty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time
November 7, 2021
 
We have, in our culture, no shortage of codified laws: civil, criminal, corporate, tax laws. Even the Catholic Church has its own code of Canon Law. And while all these laws may be grounded in virtue and tradition and even faith, they are man-made laws. There are also laws written into nature by the Creator: Laws of physics and laws of evolution and laws of cosmic expansion.

Today I want to focus on yet another law, a law that can’t be codified or proven by science, the Law of Gift. In its simplest form it reads like this: “Your being increases in the measure you give it away.”  In other words, if you want to be loved, you first have to give love. If you want more faith, try sharing your faith with someone else. If you want to be forgiven, give forgiveness. If you are starved for joy in your life, bring joy into others’ lives. If you want to be held in honor, lift someone else up in honor first. If you want to really be rich, make someone else rich.  –  Your being increases in the measure you give it away.

The stories of the widows in the scriptures today serve as an image of the Law of the Gift, but more than that. They take us to another level and teach us that the only way for the Divine to come into our lives is if there is space for the Divine to dwell. They teach us that we make that space for the Divine by what happens when we give, when we sacrifice. What becomes clear is that it’s not just what we do from our end, but what God can do.

The names of the widow and her son have long been forgotten, if they were ever known, but what they did that day so many centuries ago when the prophet visited them continues to offer hope for a world today. Their willingness to give their last loaf of bread and their last drop of oil will forever call people out of self-preservation and into sacrificial generosity. We do our part, and God promises that the jar of flour will not go empty and the jug of oil will never run dry.

The two small coins the poor widow dropped into the treasury could have easily gone unnoticed that day, but it did not. Jesus noticed it, and that story has been told for two thousand years, as if we witnessed it ourselves. It speaks to a place in hearts that is prepared to know the fullness of love to which the world is called. It is a fullness that, with our human efforts, no matter how small and insignificant, God can fulfill.

A long time ago a young man by the name of Jesus made a choice to give the only thing he had left to offer - his life on a cross. To most of the world that act of generosity went unnoticed. To others it was seen as a waste of life that could have been avoided. But God took that sacrifice, that act of giving, and turned into THE moment that has transformed all of history and every vision of tomorrow. We participate in that act of sacrifice every time we come together to celebrate Mass.

When we come together to celebrate Mass we offer God what little we have – a little time, a sometimes-fragile faith and wondering mind, a plate of bread and a sip of wine. That’s all we have. But from that, God gives us the strength to endure whatever challenge we are facing or will face tomorrow; God give us a heart to love beyond our little circle of comfortability - eyes to see his Presence where we could never see it before and ears to hear voices that would otherwise go unnoticed. God gives us healing and hope in a way that nothing else in this world can offer.
​
Our generosity and compassion, our acts of charity and sacrifices of time, our willingness to part with our treasures and the courage to give of our time and hearts - these are all things that will most likely make a difference in our lives, maybe even in someone else’s. We can fill a belly with food, calm a fear or help balance a budget of a parish or charity. But all of that, good as it is, is but a whisper to what God does in that space we leave behind. The jar of flour will not go empty and the jug of oil will never run dry.   

Audio Recording

THIRTy-First sUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME

Thirty-first Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 31, 2021
 
Sh’ma Yisrael. Adoni el-oheinu. Adoni echad. It has a different sound in Hebrew, doesn’t it? “Hear, O Israel. The Lord your God is Lord alone.”

To the Hebrew people, everything else is a footnote. It was the law that formed the people, giving them identity as God’s chosen people. They were to be the first words spoken at sunrise and the last spoken at night and the last words spoken in life. And it is known by its very first word: Sh’ma. Hear.

So, the question we must first address is simply that: To whom or what do we listen? When we wake in the morning and fall asleep at night, before we make decisions that declare our values and priorities, or shape our conscience? Who or what are we listening to before we speak, before we voice our opinion, before we react, before we hit “send?”  

The options are countless, certainly - Experts and so-called experts; news channels and politicians are eager to gain our ear, careful to voice what we want to hear and telling us whom we should ignore. There are cynics and cheerleaders, sceptics and prophets of doom all shouting to gain our attention. Facebook and Twitter and YouTube and Instagram and TikTok and Snapchat and dozens of other social media platforms, all vying for our attention, all eager to get our ear.

But there is one voice, Jesus told us, one voice that we must hear. God cannot be one among other voices, not a god among other gods that seek our loyalty. Adoni el-oheinu. Adoni echad. The Lord, our God is Lord alone!

But Jesus did something that day that lifted that command to a new level. He melded the love of God to the love of neighbor. There were, of course, countless laws that demanded care for the poor and widows, laws that called for compassion for the neglected and the outcast.  But, these laws were responses to the Sh’ma, ways to preserve community and guide their day-by-day decisions. But when Jesus melded the absolute love of God with the absolute love of neighbor he not only changed the rules, he created a whole new game.    
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Jesus created a love that is by far the most challenging of all loves and it does not come naturally. It is not innate. But just as the sh’ma formed the people of Israel, the inseparable love of God and neighbor is what makes us who we are as Christian people. It is who we are; not what we do. As Henri Nouwen says, it is an awesome and even dreadful love, but it is the only love that offers eternal life.

Audio Recording

THIRTIETH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME

Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 24, 2021
 
“No man left behind.” While the phrase is often attributed to the elite U.S. Army Rangers, who have the language as part of their creed, similar language can be found in the Soldier’s Creed and the Airman’s Creed. The Latin version, nemo resideo, (leave no one behind) is even the motto of the Marine Corps’ team charged with retrieving the remains of fallen service members from the battlefield.

It is a noble creed for the brave men and women of our armed forces. It could also, however, be named as the motto of Jesus, himself; it is the very mission of the Son of God.
Consider the framework of life in which Jesus lived: He was a Jew, a member of a race that knew what it meant to be forgotten, forsaken. That’s how they saw their generations of exile in Babylon. They longed for and prayed that day when God would remember them, forgive them, bring them home to Jerusalem. And when that day happened, as recounted by the prophet Jeremiah, indeed, none were left behind.

“I will gather them from the ends of the world, with the blind and the lame in their midst, the mothers and those with child. I will guide them; I will lead them to brooks of water, on a level road, so that none shall stumble.” What a beautiful image! (Isn’t it?) Can’t you just capture the joy, the hope, the promise? They had not been forgotten; God had come to rescue them! Captured in the words of the psalm, “It was like we were dreaming. Our mouths were filled with laughter, and our tongues with rejoicing.”

This image, this longing was embedded deep in the DNA of the Jewish people; they knew what it was to be lost and they knew what it was to be found. They understood what it was to be drawn out to despair and welcomed back into the embrace of their God. So, this blood ran deep in the veins of Jesus. Perhaps it is why on that day, as he and the crowd were leaving Jericho on their way to Jerusalem, he heard the lone voice of Bartimaeus. “Don’t forget me. Don’t leave me behind.”

My friends, we are all Bartimaeus. Each and every one of us. Every one of us, in some way, at some time in our lives have or will or right now feel like the crowd has left us behind and moved on without us. We are told we are too young or we come to realize we are too old. When everyone else seems so confident and so sure, we hide in the background with our doubts. We carry secrets and sins that no one else knows, burdens of heart that we are too shamed to share. We are afraid – of getting old, of being a bad parent, of not being included or invited. We are afraid of dying. We see others who seem so confident and secure in their relationship with God while our prayer life sucks. We hold a loneliness or grief that we can’t even talk about or live in a marriage that has lost its love. We just can’t make sense out of our world. We’re tired and we don’t see a way out of that tiredness. We are Bartimaeus.
If the Word of God offers anything for us today, my friends, let it be this: the promise of our faith that no one gets left behind. No one.
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So, keep shouting out to Jesus. Even if it seems everyone else is moving on without us, keep calling out because God never leaves anyone behind. And one day, perhaps when we least expect it, we’ll hear his voice and he’ll ask us, “What do you want me to do for you?” 

Audio Recording

twenty-NINTH sunday in ordinary time

Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 18, 2021
 
One question that was never, truly, never asked in our home growing up: “What do you want to eat?” It never dawned on me that that question actually existed! You ate what was brought to the table. I suppose it’s what happens when you’re trying to feed a family of ten on a farm. But it also proved to be a wonderful framework around which to build my prayer life.

It’s a natural place to go, of course, to ask God to grant what we want. Even for James and John it seemed to be a fair enough request: “[Teacher] grant that in your glory we may sit one at your right and other at your left.” They were, after all, part of the original crew, the terrific twelve. Right? Shouldn’t they get first choice? A seat of honor? A place of power? At first pause it certainly sounds like a reasonable request. But apparently not. Jesus responded (in my words, not his): “Seriously, guys?! You don’t have a clue what you are asking.”

When prayer is produced only from the standpoint of our ego, what we want, we’re not in a good place, we’re not where we need to be. When our prayer comes in the form of “God give me what I want” we clearly missed the memo.

Being a disciple of Jesus Christ, ego must always take a second place behind God. In biblical language, it sounds like this: “Speak Lord, your servant is listening.” In biblical attitude, “Not my will, by your will be done.” In our language, “God, give me what YOU want for me.”
Now, clearly, before you think all of prayer that starts with us is for naught, and that James and John were ego-driven creatures, remember this: even power and honor are not bad things. (I mean, God is all powerful so how can power be bad? And we honor God and we honor our saints so how can honor be a bad thing.?) Anyone in human history that accomplishes something for the common good, they do so out of power. Leaders of nations and leaders of church – they accomplish great things because of the power they hold, because of the honor that is afforded them.

Don’t think for a minute that Mother Teresa was all about humility! She knew she had power and she knew how to use it! She was well aware of the fact that as a deeply honored figure she could make things happen. She could convince bishops and popes to do what needed to be done. John Paul II brought an end to the Communist empire in Poland, not with tanks and armies, but certainly with power: the power of his voice as Pope; the honor in which he was held in Poland.

The problem is not necessarily what we ask for but that we ask for things in the wrong way, for the wrong reason. The problem, as it was for James and John, was their ego got involved. Like so many others up and down the centuries- political and church leaders who sought power and honor for the wrong reasons. In doing so they produced chaos and division, not unity and peace; vengeance and greed produced darkness and death, not light and life.  
In the language of the suffering-servant, an image presented by Isaiah and so many other prophets, an image that was fulfilled in Jesus as the high priest who was able to sympathize with our weaknesses, similarly been tested in every way, he sweated blood and prayed, “God, let this cup pass.” But in the end, “Not my will but yours be done.”
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Trust me, I wasn’t happy with everything that Mom or Grandma brought to the table; but I did learn that there was nothing there that would kill me. (Except for liver; I’m still not all that confident about that!) And over ti

Audio Recording

twenty-EIGHTH sunday in ordinary time

Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 10, 2021
 
 A couple came to see an architect about designing a new home: “Tell me what you’re thinking.  How many square feet, how many bedrooms and bathrooms do you need?  Tell me about its setting, and what kind of a look you want it to have.  What kind of statement do you want it to make?” 

They told her that they had been giving all of that lot of thought and then handed him an old door knob, and said, “We’ve had this door knob for so many years. We’ve grown quite attached and we just can’t imagine a house without it.  So, we don’t care much about anything else, as long as you design our house around this old doorknob.”

We all have those so-called treasures we are convinced we can’t live without, things we are convinced somehow will bring us happiness. We store them in our garages and shops and jewelry boxes and closets and bank accounts. They are not bad things, usually, but when we build our lives around them hoping for happiness, we’re going to go away sad.  

Sometimes the treasures we hold on to, our doorknob around which we build our little kingdoms, are not material things but other things we possess, our politics beliefs and ideologies, those truths we hold on to that are not really truths at all, they are simply opinions. Or those things that become our obsessions: hobbies or sports or places we have to get to; the latest gadgets or the biggest toys; the college we just have to get into and a game we have to win.

And of course, we have our spiritual doorknobs, as well, things we hold on to as if our salvation depended upon them – specific prayers that we say and our churches where we gather and specific times that we gather. (If you don’t believe me, just watch what happens when a parish changes Mass times!) All those things can become doorknobs.   

The young man in the gospel story today – He came to Jesus, sincere in his question. But his doorknob was his treasure. When Jesus (the architect) brought the design to the table (sell what you have and give to the poor) the young man just wasn’t able to let go. For whatever reason, he just wasn’t willing to trust Jesus on this one. The door knob was too precious, the treasure too great and he went away sad.

But there is another way, a way that allows us to possess and yet remain free, to hold Tradition and yet to be open, to remain steadfast and secure but willing to be formed and transformed. There is a way to build our families and communities and church and world so that we are not crippled by or restricted by our old doorknobs. We have to stop seeing the world through our own limited vision and experience, and see the world and life as God sees it. 

The Old Testament writers called it Wisdom. She is God’s dream for us. She speaks God’s Truth before any other truth. She is a more powerful force in the world than any weapon.  She is more treasured than a treasure chest of gold, and stronger than death. She is more useful than beauty and more important than even health itself.
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She is the gift King Solomon recognized as the best gift God could give: Wisdom. She comes to us in the Word of God that we possess in Jesus and in the Spirit of God that is offered to us in the Sacraments of the Church. And the thing is, in Her company all good things come together, everything else just seems to fall into place. We don’t have to get rid of the doorknob; we just can’t build our house around it. Or we, too, will go away sad.

Audio Recording

twenty-seventh sunday in ordinary time

Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
October 3, 2021
Respect Life Sunday
 
October is Respect Life Month and this is Respect Life Weekend.  So, let’s start with this: We don’t get to choose whose life we respect and whose we don’t but we do have to figure out how to best do it. That has been true since the beginning of time; it was true in the day and age and culture of Jesus and it is true today. There are, for sure, some different issues today but the same truth holds. Every culture in every age has to define what they hold sacred by laws and customs and practices of life. Sometimes we do well; sometimes we fail miserably.  But we can’t stop working at it. 
 
Marriage, in the time of Jesus, as it is in our time, was defined by very specific laws. Then, marriage was arranged by parents, and once that marriage was contracted, women became the property of men. That particular woman now belonged to that particular man, unless of course, that man wanted to end that relationship. Men could, without due cause, for any reason, leave the woman. It was legal, within a man’s rights to do so. I don’t think Jesus was all that impressed with what the law allowed. His message of faithfulness and love was bigger than those laws of marriage in that day and in that culture. 
 
Children, in the time of Jesus, had no rights, no status; they were not considered what we would call “legal entities” until they were at least of an age at which they were able to work. They were not even named until eight days after their birth, their personal existence essentially unrecognized in the first days of their life. Jesus saw children through a completely different lens. They were precious in his sight, an example of receptivity to the Kingdom of God.
 
But Jesus didn’t rewrite the laws because he knew that his message needed to have something to say in every age and in every culture, not just then. That’s our job; every age and culture is entrusted to do that. As members of the Church, as the Body of Christ, we have the obligation to bring the voice of Jesus into the voice of our legal systems and into our culture and into our ways of life. That’s what we do.
 
We do it for children who are born and for those who are not yet born; for those whose conceptions are celebrated and for those whose conceptions are inconvenient.  
We do it for those who walk the streets freely and for those who are incarcerated; for citizens of the world who love us and for those that really can’t stand us; for those who live within our land with the correct documentation and those who live here without it; for those who are move here freely and for those who come here seeking refuge. 
 
We do it for those who marry their beloved and live happily ever after and for those who are betrayed by their beloved; for our brothers and sisters and children whose body and souls are wired to fall in love with the opposite sex and for those whose body and souls are not wired that way.
 
We do it for people who are active and productive because they were given a mind and body that are healthy, and for people who need constant care and protection; for people who struggle every day with addictions and for those who are fortunate enough to be free of those demons.
 
We do it for those whose skin color or language is like our own and for those who are of different tongue and color; for believers who share our faith in God and for believers whose sincere faith is dramatically different than ours - and for people who can’t believe in anything.
 
We are followers of Jesus Christ and in 2021, just as in every other time, with all that we know and discern and discover and learn - we are given the obligation to figure out what the voice of Jesus says. We don’t always get there easily; we don’t always get there quickly; we don’t always get it right the first time.    
 
But we don’t get to choose who is deserving of that respect and who is not:  Every life, by the very nature and truth that they, too, are created by God, are deserving of that respect. Our job, as it has always been, is to figure out how to do that best.
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Audio Recording