We live in strange times - times when people who identify as followers of Jesus Christ support violence against anyone who seems different, and what passes as Christian preaching is sometimes veiled white supremacy. It can make us feel ashamed to be called Christians.

In order to resist this mis-portrayal of our faith and of our Savior we get to be very careful that we are living as disciples of Jesus the Christ as he is seen in Scripture. The true gospel, the Good News of Jesus, is a gospel of non-violence, reconciliation and deep love and anything that goes against those values is not of the reign of God.

Today’s gospel reading gives us a long account of Jesus calling and commissioning his disciples. Today is my last Sunday talking with y’all for quite some time, so this is a good Sunday for us as St Peter’s to be thinking about what it means to be disciples of Jesus. Not disciples of me, or Padre Sid or Rev Ollie, but of Jesus the Christ.

Before I get into my ideas, I would like to hear yours. So let’s take a few minutes to pair and share. I would like you to find someone to talk with – you may have to change seats, and please look to see that no-one is alone. Once you have found your conversation partner, please talk about what is most important about being a disciple of Jesus; if you’re not sure you can make it up. So, let’s take a few minutes to talk about what you think is most important about being a disciple of Jesus…
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Last week I talked about the importance of deep love and of accepting God’s love. I described the path of the disciple as learning and living on an ever-deepening level—a seen-in-our-daily-lives, actionable level—learning and living the truth that God is love, that we are loved, and that the only path to wholeness and fulfillment is the doing of that love.

Probably Jesus didn’t talk much about this because his disciples were already experiencing his love and seeing it demonstrated as he healed people. But most of us have personal trauma and grief or generational trauma which can get in the way of us receiving the amazing and unconditional love that God has for us. We still think we have to do something to earn it.  We’re a bit like Sarah laughing in her tent when she hears that she’s going to have a child. “Really?? Me?”

The reality is that those of us who want to learn to give and receive divine tenderness have to deal with our experience of the falsehoods, the wounds, the craziness of love that is not love. Jesus invites us to unlearn ways of life that do not nourish us or strengthen the bonds of beloved community. We cooperate in our own healing, our un-learning and re-learning as we allow the Spirit to lead us into discipleship.

And at the same time, Jesus sends us out.

Discipleship is about learning and living the truth of God’s tenderness, but this is not just a gift for ourselves to cherish. God’s love is not to make us feel good but to share that love even when sharing tears us apart.

God’s tenderness extends to all beings. When Jesus saw the crowds, we heard, he had compassion on them for they were harassed and helpless. When Jesus looks at the people of Morro Bay he has compassion and tenderness- he sees that they are harassed and helpless. Yet Jesus also sees a plentiful harvest for God, waiting for people to harvest.

And Jesus told the disciples to pray.

Before all else, as the disciples of Jesus, we are to pray. It is in prayer that we learn more of the love and tenderness of God; it is in prayer that miracles of healing begin; it is in prayer that we align our wills with Gods and set into motion the possibilities of co-creation. It is in prayer that we unlearn the habits and resentment that prevent us from fully experiencing God’s love. It is a simple prayer to pray that God might graciously and gently remove all the blocks that prevent us from fully experiencing her love. And it is a simple prayer that God might graciously and gently remove all the blocks that prevent our neighbors from fully experiencing his love.

Jesus specifically told the disciples to pray that God might send laborers into the harvest; and then he authorized and commissioned them to be the laborers themselves.

Being disciples of Jesus takes work. It did then and it does now.

But the work is different. Then it meant going from town to town spreading the good news that the reign of God is near. Today we don’t have to travel on foot without any extra food or clothing. But we are still called to spread the good news that the reign of God is near.

And it is good news that God’s tender love is available for everyone, that we can celebrate peace and non-violence, that we can resist the culture of violence which today celebrates the president’s birthday by glorifying ‘ultimate’ fighting.

Our work is less obvious than that of the first century disciples – we don’t get to “cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons.” But through prayer and conversation whether in person or through social media we get to share the truth that God is love, that we are loved, and that the only path to wholeness and fulfillment is the doing of that love.

Jill and I experienced a miracle this week. It’s been over two years since we had a nasty falling out with the young couple who live next door. In the past six months the wife, at least, has begun to acknowledge that we exist and not always look the other way when she sees us. We have struggled with forgiveness. We have smiled and greeted them. And we have prayed. On Monday we saw the mother and her two young sons in the distance down by the bay. We thought they were avoiding us. Later we were working in our yard when the older boy came to tell us that now he is four and they had seen us by the water and picked berries for us but we were gone. His mother joined him and told us where to find berries by the bay and she stayed to chat for a few minutes. A little later the four-year-old returned with a small bowl of berries.

Those berries were a little sour but oh so sweet. Healing is happening. We are deeply grateful to see the reign of God coming near in our driveway.

And maybe that is one way that we go out into the harvest that God is preparing and sending us into. By praying for those who live and work around us, by praying for our neighbors and our friends and our acquaintances that God will remove the blocks that prevent them from fully experiencing God’s tender love. And then listening for how God is sending us out.

And, when we hear the Spirit’s prompting, having the courage to go.

the Rev. Dr. Caroline Hall
 

All preachers stand on the shoulders of others, and this morning I am particularly indebted to Nikki Mathis, a priest in Atlanta, Georgia for the way she expressed the ideas in this sermon.[i]

The Rev. Mathis points out the tenderness of God displayed in the compassion and actions of Jesus the Christ. It is the tenderness that welcomes desperate women who take their healing into their own hands, and irrational fathers who insist that daughters can be raised from the dead. It is the tenderness that calls as disciples people who have acted as traitors to their own people, and which hosts dinner parties that others see, at best, as morally questionable.

With the evidence of such attentive, transformative, and healing love in the gospel this morning, why, she asks, do we find it so hard to truly know divine compassion?

Why is it often so hard for us to do the work of disciples, which is learning and living on an ever-deepening level—a seen-in-our-daily-lives, actionable level—learning and living the truth that God is love, that we are loved, and that the only path to wholeness and fulfillment is the doing of that love? I say “doing love” because love is a verb, and it’s what we’re made for. 

It’s just that simple… but not at all easy.

It sounds great, doesn’t it: falling further into the endless depths of God’s tenderness and sharing that with others (all others). But how exactly are we supposed to do that?

How are we supposed to do that when our own life experiences, or simply watching 15 minutes of any news network, can so quickly plunge us into betrayal, heartbreak, and despair?

How can we believe in “love” when we have been brought up in families, or have had friends or partners, claiming to be Christian whose ability to love is quite poor, even if they are trying their best? 

How do we do “love” when we have suffered systemic injustice, presented to us as the best we deserve—as if any of us deserve racism, sexism, ageism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia. 

If any of you are blessed enough to have had all your family and friends always love you well; if you’ve never had anyone reject you, treat you unfairly or cruelly; if no inexplicable tragedy has ever happened to you; then this sermon is not for you. 

This sermon is for all of us who have experienced depression, fear, and deep loss. This sermon is for all of us who’ve had those with power over us use shame as motivation and exclusion as a way to maintain status quo.

Because the reality is that those of us who want to learn to give and receive divine tenderness are going to have to deal with the falsehoods, the wounds, the craziness of love that is not love. 

Jesus is inviting us to unlearn ways of life that do not nourish us or strengthen the bonds of beloved community. 

We are invited to abandon unquestioning agreement with questionable beliefs and wrestle with the scriptures, exploring the language and values of the cultures from which they came without abandoning faith.

Or we may need to reexamine the history of natural disasters being named “Acts of God,” indicating that divine love is deadly and arbitrary. Or worse, being declared God’s punishment as if God is angry and vindictive.

We may need to unravel the way we have been harmed by others wielding biblical texts or beliefs in divine retribution as being synonymous with how God loves and acts in the lives of God’s beloveds. 
As Jesus calls Matthew the despised tax-collector so Jesus calls us his disciples to practice this re-learning: inviting us to know and extend God’s tenderness beyond our ‘own’ people to all people however different from us.

On Tuesday you’re invited to come to Movie Night. Over a potluck we will watch the film “The Shack”. This is not a great film. It did not win any academy awards. But what it does is explore God’s tenderness, God’s especial love for each one of us as individuals as Mack, the protagonist confronts God, unlearns his anger, and learns about forgiveness and hope and love.

This morning, in God’s tenderness we’re invited to the dinner party of the communion table, surrounded by the motley crew of other fallible human beings. Here we are invited to learn—with the Holy Spirit’s help—to see human dignity and the face of God in all people, even in our enemies, simply because that’s also what God sees in us. 

We’re all receiving healing as we touch the garment of listening to and learning from the stories of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, year after year after year. As we listen and learn, Jesus takes us by the hand, raising us from the living death of settling for anything less than a bone-deep knowing that we’re absolutely adored by the One who made us, regardless of what others might say or what we may think of ourselves. 

Let me repeat that: Jesus takes us by the hand, raising us from the living death of settling for anything less than a bone-deep knowing that we’re absolutely adored by the One who made us, regardless of what others might say or what we may think of ourselves. 

We cooperate in our own healing, our un-learning and re-learning as we allow the Spirit to lead us into discipleship. Discipleship means something different for each of us: learning the tenderness of God perhaps through a contemplative prayer group; perhaps through a group Bible study; and then living our learnings through relationship and service. We cooperate with the Holy Spirit by doing less doom-scrolling and more handholding. It is in relationship that we receive more of who God really is: inexhaustible, relentless, transforming love. 

But let’s not get it wrong… This process of re-learning, receiving, then doing divine love doesn’t fix everything. It doesn’t make suffering and evil suddenly cease to exist. Nor will we get satisfactory answers for why life seems unfair, why bad things happen to beloved people, or why our particular and communal roads to forgiving and being forgiven might look different from our neighbors’ roads.

But what we will get is this: the voice of God on a ever-reverberating loop, saying, “I am Love. You are beloved. You are made to love and be loved. And no matter what, I’ll always be with you.” “I am Love. You are beloved. You are made to love and be loved. And no matter what, I’ll always be with you.” 

And that my friends, is enough. That is healing. That is God’s ineffable tenderness.

the Rev. Dr. Caroline Hall
 


[i] https://www.episcopalchurch.org/sermon/learning-tenderness-proper-5-a-june-7-2026/