4 Pentecost (Proper 7A) 2026

The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Greeneville, TN

4th Sunday after Pentecost
June 21, 2026

Jeremiah 20:7-13
Psalm 69: 8-11, (12-17), 18-20
Romans 6:1b-11
Matthew 10:24-39

The Gospel reading we just heard from Matthew is not an easy one. In fact, if we're being honest, it may be one of those passages we'd rather skip over. Last Sunday, we talked about preparation. We talked about how the Christian life is not always easy. We talked about training, formation, and learning to rely on God's strength when life becomes difficult.

This week, the challenge is different. The difficulty isn't that we are unprepared. The difficulty is that Jesus says things we don't particularly want to hear. 

"I have come not to bring peace, but a sword." 

"Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me."

"Whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me."

Those are difficult words. I love my family. I love my children. I love my parents and the people who have shaped my life. So when Jesus speaks of division within families, it sounds troubling. It sounds harsh. It sounds completely out of character for the One who taught us to love our neighbors and pray for our enemies. But as is often the case with Scripture, we have to look beyond the surface and ask what Jesus is really trying to teach us. 

The readings today help us untie the knot. Because all of them, in one way or another, are about relationships. They are about our relationship with God, and they are about our relationships with one another. And they are about what happens when those relationships come into conflict.

Throughout this long green season after Pentecost, we are learning what it means to be disciples. We are learning how, as followers of Jesus, we are formed, informed, and transformed by God's grace. We are learning what it means to live faithfully in a complicated world. A world that is not so different from Jeremiah's. A world that is not so different from the Roman Church to which Paul was writing. A world that is not so different from the one Jesus walked through.

The details may change, but the human condition remains remarkably the same. In our reading from Jeremiah, we encounter a prophet who is exhausted. Jeremiah has spoken the truth. He has proclaimed God's message. And what has it gotten him? Ridicule... Opposition... Isolation...

People mocked him... People rejected him, and People would rather silence him than hear what God has to say. Jeremiah reaches a point where he wants to just quit. He wants to walk away. But he can’t. He can’t, because God's word has become "a burning fire shut up [his] bones." He can't hold it in. The call of God is stronger than his fear. The truth is stronger than the pressure to conform.

That sounds familiar, doesn't it? Today, we live in a culture where speaking truth (especially truth to power) can be costly. We live in a time when people are pressured to choose sides. Political tribes demand loyalty. Social media rewards outrage. News outlets profit from keeping people angry and afraid. It seems that every issue becomes another opportunity to divide people into camps of "us" and "them."

And, as Christians, we are often caught in the middle. When we speak about caring for the poor, someone calls it politics. When we speak about welcoming the stranger, someone calls it politics. When we speak about protecting the vulnerable, someone calls it politics. When we speak about peace, justice, mercy, and reconciliation, people often assume we must belong to one side or another. But Jeremiah reminds us that faithfulness is not about pleasing a crowd. Faithfulness is about following God. Even when it is difficult. Even when it’s costly.

Then Paul reminds us why that relationship matters. He tells the Roman Church… a church he hasn’t met yet... that through baptism we have been united with Christ. He lays out in his introduction to these new believers that we have died with Christ, we have been raised with Christ, and that we belong to Christ.

Our deepest identity is not found in our nationality or our political party. It’s not found in our social status, our ethnicity, or our accomplishments. It’s not even found in the many roles we play in life. Our deepest identity is that we are children of God. Children of God, created by God, redeemed by Christ, and Sealed by the Holy Spirit. Beloved forever.

That relationship is the foundation upon which everything else is built. And that brings us back to the Gospel. Jesus is not telling us to hate our families. He is not encouraging division for division's sake. He is making a statement about priorities. He is asking the fundamental question, Who comes first?

Because sooner or later, every disciple faces that question. What happens when loyalty to Christ conflicts with loyalty to a political movement? What happens when loyalty to Christ conflicts with family expectations? What happens when loyalty to Christ conflicts with cultural assumptions? What happens when loyalty to Christ challenges the values of our tribe?

Jesus says that when those moments come, our relationship with God must come first. That is what makes discipleship difficult. And that is why Jesus speaks of carrying a cross. A cross is not an inconvenience. A cross is not a minor annoyance. A cross represents sacrifice. A willingness to follow Christ even when it costs us something, even our lives.

And I think that’s the challenge facing Christians today. Many people need Jesus as a comforter. Many people want Jesus as a blessing. And many people want Jesus to be their source of personal inspiration. But few people want Jesus to challenge their assumptions. Fewer people want Jesus to rearrange their priorities. And even fewer people want Jesus to stand above every other allegiance. 

Yet that is exactly what Jesus is asking of us. Not because God is demanding. Not because God is insecure. But because God knows that when anything else occupies first place in our hearts, it eventually becomes an idol... And idols always disappoint. Political leaders disappoint. Nations and principalities disappoint... Institutions disappoint... And even families can disappoint us.

Only God remains faithful. Only God remains constant. Only God remains worthy of our ultimate trust. Imagine what our world would look like if more folks truly put God first. Imagine if leaders made decisions not based on power but on compassion. Imagine if nations pursued the common good rather than their own advantage. Imagine if churches were known more for their love rather than their arguments. Imagine if Christians became famous for mercy rather than division. Imagine if we saw every human being as someone created in the image of God. 

Many of the divisions that consume our society today would begin to lose their power. The walls that separate us would become easier to cross. The fear that drives so much of our public life would begin to give way to hope. The Gospel would once again become visible in the way we live.

Like Jeremiah, we may still face resistance. We may still become frustrated, and we may sometimes feel weary and want to quit, but God never abandons God's people.

The psalmist reminds us that God hears our cries. God sees our struggles. God remains present even when we cannot see the way forward. And God continues to call us into a deeper relationship. That is really what all these readings are about. Relationship.

A relationship begun in God's love... A relationship sealed in baptism... A relationship sustained by God’s redeeming grace... A relationship that calls us to put God first.

Because when God occupies the center of our lives, everything else begins to find its proper place. Our families become healthier. Our communities become stronger. Our witness becomes clearer. And our world becomes more reflective of God's glorious kingdom. And we finally discover that the One who asks for our ultimate loyalty is also the One who gives us ultimate life.

In Christ Jesus, we are participants in a divine relationship. And when we put God first, we find that everything else falls into its proper place.

3 Pentecost (Proper 6A) 2026

The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III

Greeneville, TN

3rd Sunday after Pentecost

June 14, 2026

Exodus 19:2-8a
Psalm 100
Romans 5:1-8
Matthew 9:35-10:8(9-23)

When my daughter Kaytlynn was about four or five years old, she knew no strangers. We had to keep a close eye on her because she would walk up to anyone and make fast friends. On the playground. In the grocery store. At restaurants. Everywhere she went. There was something beautiful about that innocence. She simply assumed people were worth knowing. Worth loving. Worth befriending.

As I reflected on today's Gospel, I found myself thinking about Kaytlynn. Because there is a certain simplicity in the mission that Jesus gives his disciples. Not that the work itself is simple. The work is difficult, demanding, and sometimes costly. But the approach is surprisingly straightforward.

Go. Trust God. Meet people. Share the Good News. Offer healing. Leave the rest to God.

In today's Gospel, Jesus looks out at the crowds and sees people who are hurting, searching, and struggling. Matthew tells us they were "harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd." And Jesus has compassion on them. 

When I hear those words of Jesus, I cannot help but think about our own world. We live in a time when many people feel harassed and helpless. We see wars continuing in Ukraine, where families still spend nights in shelters and communities continue to suffer under the weight of violence and uncertainty. We see the ongoing humanitarian crises in Gaza, where families struggle to find safety, food, clean water, and hope for tomorrow. 

We see growing divisions in our own nation, where political disagreements too often become hostility, and where loneliness and anxiety continue to affect people of all ages. It is easy to look at all of this and feel overwhelmed. It is easy to wonder whether anything we do can make a difference. But this is exactly the kind of world into which Jesus sent the disciples.

He didn’t wait until the world was peaceful. He didn’t wait until everyone agreed with one another. He didn’t wait until suffering had disappeared. He looked at the broken world with compassion and sent his followers out as agents of healing, reconciliation, and hope. Then he says, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few." 

And he sends the disciples out. He sends them out right then…  Not someday when they have everything figured out. Not after years of additional training. He gives them authority to proclaim the Kingdom of God, to heal the sick, and to bring restoration and reconciliation.

He even tells them not to overpack. Take no extra money. No extra baggage... Just go. Trust God. And trust that God will provide what is needed along the way... Some people will welcome you, some will not. Some things will work out, others will fail.

Just keep going... Keep loving... And keep sharing the Good News. The disciples are sent out with a mission of restoration and renewal. And so are we. But before we can be sent, we must first be formed. Prior to this, the disciples spent two years learning from Jesus.

I know something about that from my own life. When I was growing up, I was never much of a sports enthusiast. I played football with friends in neighborhood yards, but I was never really on a team. I never played organized baseball. Sports just weren't really my thing.

That changed when I got to high school and discovered wrestling. What I loved most wasn't even the matches. It was the training... It was the drills. The repetition. The conditioning. Every athlete learns that desire alone is not enough. It takes discipline. It takes endurance. It takes practice.

The goal of training is not simply to perform well once. The goal is to become the kind of person who instinctively responds well under pressure. The Apostle Paul understood that same truth about the Christian life. 

Writing to the Romans, Paul knows that following Jesus is not easy. There will be hardships, disappointments, and struggles. Yet he says, "Suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us."

Paul is not glorifying suffering. He is describing formation. God uses life's challenges to shape disciples. To build endurance. To strengthen character and to offer us hope. The Christian life is a life of formation. That is why we pray. That is why we worship. That is why we return week after week for Scripture and Sacrament.

Have you ever wondered why we repeat the same prayers? Why our tradition follows the steady rhythms and routines of the Prayer Book? Years ago, I couldn’t have answered that question very well. Then life happened. Loss happened. Challenges happened. And I discovered that those practices had been training me all along.

A mentor once told me that the daily office is "calisthenics for Christians." I have always loved that image. Just as repeated exercise strengthens the body, practiced daily prayer strengthens the soul. The way we worship forms our hearts. Scripture shapes our minds, and the sacraments help us receive and remember God's grace. These practices prepare us for the moments when life becomes difficult.

My Taekwondo instructor, Master Park, often says, "When we train Taekwondo, we become Taekwondo people. And when Taekwondo people are squeezed, Taekwondo comes out." The same is true for Christians. When we pray, worship, forgive, serve, and love, Christ is formed within us. And when life squeezes us, what comes out is the love of God.

That is exactly what God was doing with Israel in our reading from Exodus. Three months after escaping slavery in Egypt, they arrive at Mount Sinai. And God says to them, "You shall be my treasured possession... You shall be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation."

Imagine hearing those words. Former slaves are told they are precious in God's sight. Chosen. Called. Set apart for God's purposes. Not because they are better than anyone else, but because God has work for them to do. They are called to be a kingdom of priests. A people whose lives help connect others to God.

Did they know how to do that? Probably not. Much of the Old Testament is the story of Israel trying to figure it out. There was plenty of trial and error. Sometimes more errors than trials. Yet they kept returning to God, they kept learning, and they kept growing. And perhaps that is one of the most important lessons for us today. Faithfulness matters more than perfection.

Because when Jesus sent the disciples out, he did not send perfect people. The Gospels make that abundantly clear. These are the same disciples who misunderstood Jesus' teachings, who argued among themselves, who fell asleep when Jesus asked them to pray, who fled when he was arrested, who struggled to believe in the resurrection. One of them even betrayed him... sold him out for 20 pieces of silver.

And yet Jesus sent them anyway. He called disciples and turned them into apostles. The word apostle means "one who is sent." And despite all their flaws, they answered the call. They went... They proclaimed the Good News... They healed... They reconciled... They loved. And because they said yes, there is a Church gathered around the world today. The same call comes to us.

In the Catechism of the Book of Common Prayer, we read, "The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ." That is our mission. It’s our purpose as the gathered Body of Christ. It is who we are.

Every time we renew our baptismal covenant, we promise that we will, with God's help, proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. Notice those words: with God's help. Not because we are perfect. Not because we have all the answers. But because God goes with us.

Too often, we are content to remain disciples gathered comfortably around Jesus. We enjoy worship. We enjoy fellowship. We enjoy being together. And all those things are good. But disciples are meant to become apostles. We are meant to be sent. We are meant to step beyond our comfort zones and go where people are hurting. To bring hope where there is despair. To bring reconciliation where there is division. and to bring love where there is hatred. And that takes courage. It always has.

But we need to remember that we do not go alone. The same Holy Spirit that empowered the apostles empowers us. The same love that sustained Paul sustains us. The same God who called Israel calls us.

And maybe the work begins more simply than we imagine. Perhaps it begins by being with and noticing people. Listening to them. Caring for them and treating them with dignity. Making friends, just like a little girl who believed everyone she met was worth knowing. Because every person we encounter is beloved by God. Every person matters. Every person has sacred worth. Every person is made in God’s image. And every person needs to hear, in one way or another, that God loves them and the Kingdom of God has come near.

Brothers and sisters, we are a kingdom of priests. We are apostles of Jesus Christ. We are agents of reconciliation in a hurting world. We are still being formed. And we are being sent out. Not because we are perfect. But because God is faithful.

The harvest is still plentiful. There are still people longing for hope. There are still people wondering whether anyone sees them, whether anyone cares, whether anyone believes their life has value. There are still children hiding from bombs, families displaced from their homes, neighbors isolated by loneliness, and communities broken apart by fear and suspicion. 

And into that world, Jesus sends his Church. Not to win arguments. Not to conquer enemies. Not to prove that we are right. But to proclaim that the Kingdom of God has come near... To remind people that they are loved by God... To remind people that they are not forgotten... To remind people that hope is stronger than despair because Christ is risen and continues to work through his people.

So let us go into the harvest. Let us proclaim the Good News. Let us heal where there is hurt. Let us love where there is hatred. Let us offer hope where there is despair. And when the pressures of life come, and the world squeezes us (and it will), may what comes out be the love of God that has been poured into our hearts through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.

For the Kingdom of God has come very near.

2 Pentecost (Proper 5A) 2026

The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Hertford, NC (Guest at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church)

2nd Sunday after Pentecost
June 7, 2026

Hosea 5:15-6:6
Psalm 50:7-15
Romans 4:13-25
Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

I want you to think back for a moment… I mean… way back… Do you remember junior high or middle school? Or high school? Or maybe even college? Think about the school cafeteria for a minute… that great little microcosm of society. Even though it looked like one big room filled with people together, everyone somehow separated themselves into groups.

Now think again… Who did you eat lunch with? Now, when I was growing up, there were the geeks, the preppies, and the jocks. When my kids were in school, those divisions seemed to multiply even more. There were the nerds, the goths, the emos, the stoners, the rednecks, the "holy rollers," the athletes, the outsiders, and all the rest. And somehow everyone knew where they belonged. And unfortunately, some felt like they didn't belong at all.

Because, in those years and even now, who you sat with said something about who you were. Who you eat with defines you in some way. Eat at the wrong table, and suddenly, your identity is questioned.

It is interesting how very little our human nature has changed. In the first part of the Gospel lesson we heard today, people were separating themselves into categories. Only in Jesus' day, those divisions were not just social or economic or based on personality—they were also deeply religious.

The religious purity laws shaped nearly every part of life... what people could eat, how food was prepared; they even extended to who could or couldn't be touched, who was allowed to participate in worship, and even who was considered worthy of belonging.

If someone was labeled a sinner or considered ritually unclean, they were pushed to the outside margins of society. People avoided them. They were excluded from community life. And they were treated as though they did not belong around and among God's people.

And here comes Jesus… Overturning the apple cart and upsetting the status quo. The Gospel today gives us three powerful moments... three moments where Jesus crosses boundaries that everyone else thought should remain in place.

First, Jesus sits down to eat with tax collectors and sinners. Now, tax collectors were despised because they worked for Rome. They were seen as traitors, corrupt, and unfaithful. They were hated by society, and yet Jesus shared a meal with them. The Pharisees are scandalized. They ask Jesus, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" Because to share a table with someone, much like today, was to recognize their dignity and worth. It was a sign of hospitality, fellowship, acceptance, and welcome.

But Jesus refuses to organize people according to the categories everyone else uses. Instead, he says, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick… Then he says to them… Go learn what this means… "I desire mercy, not sacrifice."

In this short phrase, he was telling them that God cares more about how we treat people than about perfect religious performance or practice. He emphasizes compassion over maintaining religious boundaries. And he was teaching them that Love of neighbor is the true expression of the Love of God. Religious practices are only valuable when they flow from a heart transformed by mercy.

When Jesus says, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice," Jesus is not setting mercy against worship. He is teaching us that worship without mercy is empty. He's saying God is less interested in the sacrifices we place on the altar than in the compassion we show to the people we meet in our daily lives. The truest sacrifice is a human heart that is shaped by God's own mercy. 

When we open ourselves to receive God's compassion, we can begin to extend that same compassion to others. In all this… Jesus wants us simply to know that mercy comes first. True "mercy"… meaning steadfast Love, loving-kindness, or covenant faithfulness always comes first. Not status. Not appearances. Not religious performance... Not theological or biblical correctness, but mercy.

Then comes the second encounter. which shows us, through his actions, what Jesus is talking about… As Jesus is on his way to the synagogue leader's house, a woman who has suffered hemorrhages for twelve years comes up behind him and touches the fringe of his cloak. Now, according to the religious laws of the time, her condition made her ritually unclean. She should not have been in the crowd, and she certainly should not have touched anyone.

And yet she reaches out in hope and touches the hem of Jesus' tunic. And instead of recoiling from her... Instead of defaming her as stupid and condemning her action, Jesus turns to her with compassion. He says, "Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well." Notice what Jesus does. He restores not only her health, but also her dignity. He gives her back her place in the community. Jesus shows us again that mercy triumphs over exclusion.

And then comes the third example. Jesus arrives at the house of the synagogue leader, where a little girl has died. The mourners are already gathered. The crowd is already grieving. But Jesus enters the room, takes the little girl by the hand and raises her up. 

We hear the story from Matthew this morning, but Mark, the Gospel of little detail, goes so far as preserving the Aramaic words… "Talithia Cum” – which means little girl, arise. To touch a dead body was considered one of the clearest forms of ritual impurity. There were all kinds of rules governing who and how bodies were handled after death… It specifies what actions must be taken for the persons tending to the dead to be restored to community life. Numbers tells us that one who touches a dead body is to be considered "ritually unclean" for seven days. And yet Jesus is not afraid to touch death itself and raise the little girl to life...

Mercy comes first… Jesus shows us that God's Love and mercy always come first… Where others see contamination, Jesus brings restoration. Where others see exclusion, Jesus brings inclusion and community.

In each of these moments, the tensions between Jesus and society keep building. Jesus eats with sinners. Jesus allows himself to be touched by the unclean. And Jesus touches the dead. Again and again, Jesus crosses the lines that society and religion had drawn. He crosses them, NOT to admonish people or tell them how sinful they are, but to restore them. Not to shame, but to heal. Not to condemn, but to redeem.

And the interesting part is… The only people truly offended by this are the ones most concerned with protecting their own sense of righteousness. The Pharisees couldn't understand a holiness that looked anything like mercy.

Throughout the Gospel, Jesus reveals that true holiness is not about separation from people. True holiness is Love. Steadfast Love. Mercy. Compassion and forgiveness. Restoration and redemption. Jesus echoes the words of the prophet Hosea, saying, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice." And Jesus lived those words by example.

We still struggle with this today. We may not divide ourselves according to ritual purity laws anymore, but we still separate people into categories. It may not be a middle school cafeteria, but unfortunately, we still act like it… because we still decide who belongs and who doesn't. We still draw lines and erect barriers, deciding who is worthy and who is not. And then we define worth based on those we are comfortable sitting beside and those whom we would rather avoid.

But Jesus keeps crossing those boundaries. And if we are going to follow him, then we are called to do the same. Not to judge. Not to shame. Not to push others aside because they don't conform to the purity ideal we have in our head… But, as followers of Jesus, we are to strive to become people of mercy.

People who see dignity and worth where others see labels. People who offer compassion where others offer condemnation. People who help restore those whom the world has pushed to the margins or cast aside. Because that is exactly what Christ has done for us.

Again and again, Jesus reaches toward those whom the world rejects. And Jesus heals. He restores. He welcomes, and He raises up. Jesus shows us again and again what it means to follow him – that's what Jesus means when he says, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice…" It means that we should become agents of God's mercy, steadfast Love, and healing presence in the world.

Trinity Sunday A 2026

The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Greeneville, TN

Trinity Sunday
May 31, 2026

• Genesis 1:1-2:4a
• 2 Corinthians 13:11-13
• Matthew 28:16-20
• Psalm 8

I'll be honest with you… Trinity Sunday can feel a bit intimidating for preachers. Especially in Churches where there are no curates or seminarians… No newly ordained folks who can give you the expanse of their freshly developed wares…

Trinity Sunday is the Sunday when preachers sometimes become amateur mathematicians trying to explain how God is three in one, and one in three… They try to do this without accidentally wandering into heresy. They do this, trying to explain the unexplainable.

Preachers often use images and try to be clever but end up being very wrong, back themselves in a corner, and make theologians wince. They try to explain the Trinity as water, as ice, as liquid, and as vapor; they use clover leaves; the sun with heat and light. Yet every analogy eventually breaks down, leading to one heresy or another…

Because the Trinity was never meant to be solved like a mathematical equation. The Trinity is not primarily a doctrine to explain. It's more of a relationship we are invited into.

Today's Gospel from Matthew does not show the disciples gathered in a classroom learning theological definitions. Instead, they are standing on a mountain in Galilee together with the risen Christ. Matthew tells us something startling about this encounter… "When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted."

Notice that... Resurrection has happened. The risen Christ stands before them. And still, some were uncertain… They waivered… they hesitated… they doubted. We've talked before about faith and doubt, that they often complement each other… How they co-exist, one making the other stronger. Faith and uncertainty often live together. We can see it in the fact that we can worship and still wrestle with the teaching. We can believe and still ask questions. We can follow Christ and still wonder. 

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus doesn't condemn the disciples for their doubt. Jesus doesn't say, "Come back when your faith is stronger." Instead, Jesus entrusts these imperfect disciples with the greatest mission imaginable… "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations… baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…"

Not after their certain. Jesus sends them out, now, He sends us out, NOW… Go… Make Disciples and Baptize. In our weakness. In the midst of questions. In our brokenness and incompleteness. Because the Christian mission depends upon God's faithfulness… it never depends on flawless disciples. If it did, it would have ended years ago.

And Jesus sends them out to do this in the name (not names) of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. One name. One God. One divine life. The God we encounter is eternally relational Father loving Son, Son loving Father, Spirit proceeding in Love… All together as ONE in an endless communion of self-giving relationship. At the center of that reality is not isolation. It's not competition or domination… The center of the reality of the Godhead is Love. Pure undefinable, unifying, restoring, redeeming, and life-giving Love. 

That's a difficult concept to grasp in this day and age… Many people are beginning to wonder whether division is simply the way things are. And the way things are going to be from now on…We see very few examples of unity in our society… No ideas or images that we can point to and say that's what it's supposed to be… That's what harmony and redeeming love look like.

So we need the Trinity in our life… Because the Trinity proclaims the truth that relationship, not separation, is God's deepest reality. Communion is holy… Not alienation, or isolation. And Love, NOT fear, has the final word.

Perhaps that is why Paul ends his second letter to the Corinthians not with an argument, but with a benediction and blessing: "Put things in order, listen to my appeal," he says. "Agree with one another, live in peace…"

Like us today, the Corinthians were struggling with conflict, mistrust, and division within their own community. Sometimes folks look at scripture and don't realize that they're as messed up as we are. The world hasn't changed so much…Why? Because we fail to listen… We fail to act and love as Jesus taught us… We fail to Go, Make Disciples, Baptize, Teach, and Remember! 

Paul doesn't tell them merely to behave better. He has them strive for something deeper… Something rooted their reconciliation in God. "And the God of Love and peace will be with you... The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the Love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you." Grace, Love, communion.

Notice how those are not abstract ideas. Grace is Christ coming toward us when we fail. Love is the Father holding all creation together, even when we wander. Communion is the Spirit binding us together despite our differences.

The Trinity must be experienced in relationship before we can even begin to understand it. We know God whenever grace meets guilt. We know God whenever Love overcomes fear. And we experience God whenever people who are opposed to one another choose peace. The Trinity becomes visible whenever communities carry one another through struggles & grief and whenever forgiveness disrupts anger.

I think churches understand the Trinity best through simple, ordinary acts… not complex creeds or doctrines. The examples I've seen this past week are… A meal shared with someone grieving. Prayers spoken beside a hospital bed. Hands assembling lunch bags for the homeless. A congregation singing while still carrying sorrow. A community welcoming the lonely regardless of their circumstances. That's Trinitarian life. That's divine life… A life where Love is received, Love is shared, and Love is multiplied.

Jesus ends Matthew's Gospel with words that many of us cling to… "And remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." And from there, we are expected to Go, Make Disciples, Baptize, Teach, and Remember. Do this and be a witness to the Good News in this weary world…

The weight of the world is heavy. The work of mercy is exhausting. Peacemaking is costly. And sometimes faithfulness feels lonely. Yet Christ does not say, "Go and figure it all out alone." He says, "I am with you, always." The Father's Love surrounds us, the Son walks beside us, and the Spirit breathes within us. So we are never sent out alone and unsupported. 

Perhaps Trinity Sunday bids us ask one burning question: What kind of people are we becoming if we worship a God whose very life is communion? If God is relationship, then faith cannot stay individually private and personal. If God is self-giving Love, then discipleship cannot remain proud and self-centered. If God is unity and communion, then our divisions cannot be what the world sees when it looks at the Church.

The Church is called to become what it proclaims! We are called to be a people of grace. A people of peace. People who carry Christ's presence into the world. People who embody the blessing Paul spoke long ago, "The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with all of you." 

Not simply with us. But through us, for the life of the whole world.

Pentecost A 2026

The Rev. Dr. Kenneth H. Saunders III
Greeneville, TN

Pentecost
May 24, 2026

• Acts 2:1-21
• 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13
• John 20:19-23
• Psalm 104:25-35, 37

In the book of Acts, Pentecost does not begin as a triumph. Similar to the account in John's Gospel, when Jesus breathed on his disciples… It begins in a closed room. The disciples were all there, gathered together, not because they were brave, not because they had everything figured out, but because they were uncertain...

The resurrection has happened. Jesus has ascended. And now they are waiting for the unknown paraclete… That advocate, comforter… The helper that Jesus promised them.

Waiting can be a holy experience, but it can also be frustrating and frightening. The disciples don't know yet what it will be like. Nor do they know what the ecclesia… the small gathered community, the church, will become. They don't know yet what their faithfulness will cost them. And they don't yet know how to live without Jesus standing physically beside them… patiently teaching and guiding them…

And then, without warning, the Holy Spirit comes. Not quietly… Not politely… Not safely. But with a sound like a violent rushing wind. Like tongues like fire… With their voices speaking in languages they never learned.

Pentecost is not a convenient, private, spiritual moment. It is a major disruption. The Spirit of God crashes through locked doors and pushes the frightened disciples out into the streets. And what happens next may be the most astonishing part of the story. People understood one another.

Parthians, Medes, Elamites, visitors from Rome, Egypt, Libya… people from every imaginable place. They all hear the Good News about the mighty power of God spoken in their own language. Not one language replacing another or being forced… But a mixture of diverse sounds and tenses, not uniformity. Not erasure. But honoring culture and communication…

The miracle of Pentecost is not that everyone suddenly becomes the same. The miracle is that God speaks through diversity and difference. And we need to understand this right now. In our day and age…

Because we continue to see brokenness and fragmentation all around us, brought about by some folks who see diversity as a threat. We are surrounded by division, suspicion, rage, tribalism, nationalism, and fear. People are constantly speaking over and past one another. We see nations fracture, churches splinter, and families dissolve.

Yet, Pentecost shows us that the Holy Spirit still speaks. Not to people who only look alike, vote alike, or worship alike. The Holy Spirit speaks across those boundaries. The boundaries that we create for ourselves out of fear. The Holy Spirit does not remain trapped inside the upper room. Faith is pushed outward into the chaos and noise… Into the complexity and the diversity of the world. 

And that is the challenging part… Because some of us would rather have a manageable Holy Spirit. A Spirit that comforts us privately and doesn't inconvenience us publicly. A Spirit that reassures us without transforming us.

But that's not how the Holy Spirit works…The Holy Spirit in Acts behaves less like a docile houseguest and more like wildfire burning out of control. The Spirit creates movement and fosters courage. The Holy Spirit creates community where community shouldn't naturally exist. And perhaps most importantly, the Spirit creates the ability to communicate and be understood.

People who were silent and uncertain begin proclaiming. People who were hiding begin publicly witnessing. People who assumed they had nothing to offer discovered that God can speak through them. 

And that's still true. Because Pentecost is not only about the apostles long ago. It is about us in the church now. It is about ordinary people through whom God still breathes. Sometimes we imagine that the church's strength depends upon strategy, numbers, budgets, or influence.

But the Pentecost story in Acts reminds us that the church was born powerless. It had no buildings, no institutional standing. No political leverage… Only the Holy Spirit. And that was enough.

Because the Gospel, the Good News of Jesus, has never depended on human strength. It depends upon the living breath of God. And that's the Good News that our weary churches need to hear. It's Good news for tired Christians. Good news for those wondering whether hope still exists in this cynical age.

My friends,  God has not abandoned the world. The Holy Spirit of God is still moving... Still moving and working among us. She moves in hospital rooms, in grieving families, in exhausted caregivers. She moves in acts of mercy that no one notices… in congregations that keep showing up week after week, and in prayers whispered through tears. The Holy Spirit moves in young people longing for relevance and meaning, and in older saints who continue loving faithfully.

The fire of Pentecost has not gone out. But the world, as it is, remains skeptical. It will still mock and ridicule what it doesn't understand… When the crowd hears the disciples speaking, some are amazed, but some folks mock them. "They are filled with new wine," they sneered, thinking they were drunk at 9 o'clock in the morning.

The Holy Spirit has always appeared foolish to a world that is organized around money, power, and control. To the world, forgiveness looks foolish. Generosity looks reckless. Loving your enemy looks irrational, and hope looks silly.

But the church was never called to look impressive. The church was called to bear witness to the Love of God and the Good News of Jesus Christ. 

And Peter stands right in the middle of that crowd and declares, "This is what was spoken through the prophet Joel. I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh." All flesh…Young and old... Women and men... Servants and free… Insiders and outsiders…

Pentecost tears down the assumption that God only belongs to a select few. The Holy Spirit can't be hoarded. She spills outward and overflows with God's great abundance.

And that means the church must continually ask itself, Where are we resisting the movement of the Spirit? Where have we mistaken comfort for faithfulness? Where have we closed the doors that God is trying to open?

Because Pentecost is not merely a celebration of some event that happened once, a long time ago… But, it's an invitation to us to become the kind of people through whom the Spirit still speaks. People of courage. People of compassion. People who listen before condemning. People who cross boundaries. People who carry hope with us into weary places. People who are willing to believe that God isn't finished with this world yet. That God isn't finished with us yet.

The same Spirit that hovered over creation, that filled the prophets, that raised Christ from the dead, that shook the house at Pentecost... that same Spirit continues to breathe new life into the world. She's still unsettling. Still healing. She is still sending.

So we are called to pray, with open hearts and open minds. Come, Holy Spirit. Come into our fears.  Come into our divisions. Come into our weariness. And come into your church again. Set our hearts on fire not for ourselves, but for the life of the world. Amen.