Standing Tall (Luke 13:10-17)

 Are you a rule follower? Or a rule breaker?

I am a rule follower… for better, and for worse.

When I was a student, I never cut class. Even at General Assembly, I go to all the workshops.

I’ve never received a parking ticket—never even been pulled over. 

I jaywalk sometimes—but then feel guilty about it. And I judge other people who jaywalk in places where I wouldn’t.

I always placed two spaces after a period, long after I was told that that rule was no longer necessary. I always use the Oxford comma. And I still try not to end a sentence with a preposition, even though that is also a rule that, I’ve been told, isn’t really a rule that needs to be followed.

I hate it when people use the word “normalcy,” because it’s not a real word. “Normalcy” is a word that Warren G. Harding made up when he ran for president in 1920, because he couldn’t think of the word “normality.” It’s like when Will Ferrell made fun of George W. Bush on Saturday Night Live years ago by using the word “strategery.” That was funny, because everyone knows that “strategery” isn’t a real word. 

Neither was “normalcy,” until Warren G. Harding made it up.

Being a rule-follower can be exhausting. For the rule-follower, as well as for the rule-followers friends and family..

I do admire people who are comfortable breaking the rules. My friend Jonathan is the pastor at First Christian Church in North Hollywood, California, and he wears a suit on Sunday mornings, just like I do… but with his suit he wears Converse sneakers. 

That’s so cool! A rule follower like me could never wear sneakers with a suit!

All this forces me to admit that, if I were one of the characters in today’s Bible story, I’d probably be the leader of the synagogue.

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The leader of the synagogue was a rule-follower. 

Which I still think is a good thing.

Most of the time.

The rule about the Sabbath is a good rule. It’s a good command. It’s good that we take a day to honor God and ourselves by resting, to cease productivity, and just be.

The Sabbath, when properly observed, also honors our neighbors, because we don’t make them work on our behalf. They deserve a day to rest and just be as well.

It’s a good law… Except when it isn’t.

The woman in the synagogue had been crippled for 18 years. For 18 years, she had been unable to stand up straight. For 18 years, she had been coming to the synagogue, being careful to follow all the rules, hoping and praying that God would heal her of her affliction, and set her free.

It never happened. But still, she kept coming. But still, she kept her faith.

No one at the synagogue had been able to set her free from her affliction. Or, maybe they had been unwilling to set her free from her affliction. 

As to why they were unable or unwilling to heal her, your guess is as good as mine.

I do know that many come to the church today for help, for healing; to be set free from the afflictions they face.

And many go to the welfare office, or the doctor’s office, or the therapist’s office, or the pharmacy…

Or they seek help from a bottle or a pill…

Seeking anything that can help them find healing and wholeness, and to be set free from their afflictions…

And they do not find the healing they need.

Jesus came into the synagogue. He came in to teach.

And while he was teaching, this woman appeared, bent over, afflicted.

Well, this was the Sabbath day, the day for teaching, not the day for healing.

Yet the Sabbath’s purpose was to show honor and love to God, and honor and love to oneself, and honor and love to one’s neighbor…

And love would certainly compel one to provide the healing that this woman so desperately needed.

Jesus knew that the rule about honoring the Sabbath was subservient to the rule to love. In fact, every rule was subservient to the rule to love. 

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“Love God; love your neighbor.” Jesus said that every other law and command hangs from these commands to love… 

And by “hang,” I think Jesus was picturing a door, and on that door was written all the commands, all the rules, that one had to follow… 

but the command to love God, and the command to love one’s neighbor, were the two hinges that held up the door; the two hinges that held all the other commands; the two hinges from which all the other commands hung.

So, to insist that healing must not be done on the sabbath because of the command to keep the sabbath day holy would be to place the sabbath command at one of the hinges, and to move the command to love to some other, less important spot. 

It gets things backwards. 

And getting things backwards like this is, unfortunately, something the church has done way too often over the centuries.

We have talked about love, but we have said that love must be limited.

Love is limited by all these other commands, all these other rules.

Love is limited by what is deemed right and proper.

Love is limited by so many other rules that have become more important to us, to Christians, than love.

The command to honor the Sabbath is a good command… except when love commands us to break the law about the Sabbath.

Love always trumps any other law.

Martin Luther King, Jr., when asked about why he engaged in civil disobedience, and why he was willing to break laws, said that sometimes love and justice demand that we break some laws.

He said we find it acceptable that an ambulance, rushing to the hospital with its lights on and sirens blaring, is allowed to break some laws. It is allowed to break the speed limit. It is allowed to go through red lights. Because this is an emergency. Because someone’s life depends on it.

And we accept that. As a society, we accept that those traffic laws can be broken when the situation demands it. Because something more important is at play.

This woman in the synagogue, she had been suffering for far too long! And Jesus knew that love demanded that he break the law regarding the sabbath, in order to show compassion, in order to provide healing, in order to set her free from her affliction.

Maybe that’s why my friend Jonathan wears converse sneakers when he preaches… I’ll have to ask him someday. Maybe it’s to remind himself and his congregation that, sometimes, the church needs to be willing to break some laws, to go against the customs and traditions that guide us, in order to show love. In order to show compassion. In order to implement justice._______________

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I know a lot of people today are fed up with religion. They are fed up with religion that puts other laws and rules ahead of love, and ahead of compassion (which is a form of love), and ahead of justice (which is what love looks like in public, according to Cornel West.) 

Jesus was committed to the way of love. Jesus’ way of being in the world is the way of love.

But we—according to Terri Hord Owens—are often more committed to the traditions of institutions “than we are to the way of Jesus.”

The prophet Amos observed how the religious institutions in his own time placed more importance on traditions and rules than on love. Through Amos, God says “I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals, I will not look upon. Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps.”

Everything being described here is a part of worship. Worship, like the sabbath, like all the other rules and traditions, is good… until it becomes more important than the command to love one’s neighbor, and to demonstrate that love through acts of justice. 

When rituals and rules and traditions take the place of love, then they become offensive to God. Instead, God says: “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”___________

This story we heard today isn’t the only time Jesus got fed up with religious leaders who considered other things more important than the command to love. 

In Luke 5, Luke 7, Luke 13, Luke 14, Luke 15, 16, 18, 19, & 20… In all these chapters of Luke’s gospel, there are stories where Jesus gets in trouble, because he puts love first, and breaks some rule or tradition in order to exercise love.

And then, each time, Jesus turns it around, and criticizes the religious leaders, because they have placed more importance on other rules and traditions than on the command to love.

Each time, a religious leader says to Jesus, “you can’t do that, it’s against our laws.” And each time, Jesus does it anyway, and then chastises the religious leaders, calling them hypocrites, and warning the people about leaders who care more about rules and their own honor than they do about showing love and compassion to those who are vulnerable.

Stop prioritizing other, less-important commands, over the command to love. That’s what Jesus is saying. Over and over. And it’s what many leaders in the church still need to hear today.

Because just as Jesus was fed up with leaders who failed to love, so are many fed up today with a church that has failed to love. The reason that many people have left the church is the same reason that Jesus himself was so critical of the religious leaders in his own time.

Too many churches today would have that woman remain in her crippled, bent-over state, because helping her find healing and wholeness didn’t fit into their theology or doctrine.

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If we can learn to love limitlessly as Jesus loved, and if we can understand that all other laws and rules, no matter how good, must fall under the command to love, then we can change the world.

And if some of those other rules, in certain situations, conflict with the command to love, then we might even have to break those rules.

I know! That’s a shocking thing for a ruler-follower like myself to be saying!

But with all my heart, I want to be someone who places following Jesus at the top of my priority list. With all my heart, I want to be someone who has learned how to love.

And I want a church that has learned how to love, so that when a person who is suffering from some sort of an affliction—a person who is bent over in pain or in shame or because of some heavy burden they are carrying—when that person comes into the place of worship, I want a church that can help them stand tall, strong and well. Even if we have to break some rules to do it.

Powerful (Luke 13:31-35)

 In case you haven’t heard, Disciples Seminary Foundation has put out a Lenten devotional, with reflections written for every Sunday of Lent, and one for Ash Wednesday, and one, I think, for each day of Holy Week. The reflections were written by various leaders in our region and our denomination. And the reflection for today, March 13, was written by yours truly.

My reflection for March 13 is based on Luke 13, which is the lectionary gospel reading for this 2nd Sunday in Lent. I do a good portion of my writing these days from various school campuses, on days when I’m substitute teaching, during conference periods when there are no students in the classroom. 

So there I was, reading this scripture one day in a school classroom, thinking about Jesus calling Herod a “fox,” and referring to himself as a “hen,” and I remembered that some years back, I reflected on how this made me think of various school mascots, and how most students, I’m sure, would rather have a fox as their mascot than a hen.

And I started thinking about the various mascots at the schools where I teach. Among Long Beach High Schools, we have rams and jaguars and panthers and dragons and - perhaps the most well-known of all - jackrabbits. 

Jackrabbits aren’t very ferocious, or intimidating. In the wild, animals like jaguars and panthers eat jackrabbits. 

The last time I preached on this scripture (six years ago, I believe), I don’t think I had yet started teaching here in Long Beach, but I did do some research then into how it came to be that the jackrabbit is the mascot for Long Beach Poly… but I’m not going to go into that today.

In the reflection I wrote for DSF, I ended with these words: “It’s hard to imagine Jesus as a hen. We’d rather picture Jesus as a strong warrior or a powerful king. If asked to pick an animal to represent Jesus, we’d probably choose a mighty eagle over a hen; but Jesus forces us to think differently about power and might. How might picturing Jesus as a hen help us better understand the nature of power and might in the kingdom of God?”

In almost every gospel story, Jesus overturns people’s ideas of power and might. From his lowly birth to his disgraceful death, nothing in Jesus’ life is what one would expect for the Son of God, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords. 

His “army” is a ragtag bunch of misfit disciples. His military parade features a donkey instead of a war horse. His “palace” is a field, or a lakeshore, or a mountaintop. These are not the signs of power that we associate with mighty rulers.

Many people in Jesus’ time - as in our own time - believed that, to be powerful, one must be strong. Physically strong. Personal body strength, or a massive military, are signs of power. 

Many people in Jesus’ time - and in our own time - also believed that money is a sign of power. To be powerful, one must have wealth. Wealth gives you power and influence, to do things, to accomplish things, to fulfill your mission.

Yet Jesus had no military, and no wealth.

That’s not to say that Jesus wasn’t tempted by these things. These are precisely the things that Satan offered to Jesus in the wilderness. Wealth and power were the greatest temptations Jesus faced. 

Any one of us would probably have said yes to those temptations. Unlimited wealth? Unlimited physical power to enforce my will? 

I’m sure I would tell myself and perhaps convince myself that, given this kind of wealth and power, I’d certainly use it for good, to create a better world.

I’d be the wolf who promises to care for and protect the sheep. I’d be the fox who promises to shelter and care for the chickens. I’d be different from everyone else. Just give me the money and the power; you’ll see!

But money and power have a way of corrupting one’s best intentions, don’t they?

Because once you have all that money and power, then, you realize, you have to work hard to keep all that money and power. You have to hold on to it, somehow. And that becomes an even more important goal to you than your original promise to care for and shelter the sheep and the chickens.

We see so much of this in politics. President Biden’s Build Back Better Plan, the effort to secure voting rights, and so many other important pieces of legislation fail, because a group of senators (or sometimes, even just one senator) finds himself or herself swayed more by the corporate money that funds their reelection campaigns than by the vision of what’s best for the majority of people in this country. Holding on to power and wealth becomes so important to them, that all other priorities fade into the background.

To fully follow God’s will - to be completely and wholly who he was meant to be - Jesus refused to give in to that temptation.

God’s power is manifested in the weak and lowly. 

That is so hard for us to wrap our heads around. In First Corinthians, Paul writes: “God chose what is weak, low and despised; that’s why my focus is on the crucified Christ” [1 Corinthians 1:18-2:2].

The crucified Christ. The Christ who died a most dishonorable death. 

I realize, I don’t preach about the crucifixion much. I don’t really like the crucifixion. I don’t like that display of power - at least, not the display of power that I see on the surface. An angry mob and its power. High priests who care more about the power they get from Rome. And the power of Rome’s own representatives - Herod and Pilate - the ones ultimately responsible for Jesus’ death. 

And I’m not sure that I like the fact that I’m called to follow the example of Christ. Can I be honest here? I’m not sure I want to follow the path of sacrifice. I’m not sure I want to risk giving up my power, what power I have, if giving up that power means I am disregarded, cast aside, ignored, oppressed, trampled-down, choked, beaten, tear-gassed, imprisoned…

If I can, I want to use my power to avoid all that. I want to use my power to at least ensure some measure of security for me and my family…

And, so far in my life, I’ve mostly been able to do that. Because, even though it doesn’t always feel like it, I do have power. Not as much as a senator in Congress; but I do have power.

And, if I’m honest, a lot of my power is due to my race… my gender… my religion… my nationality… and how people perceive my sexual orientation. 

All those aspects of who I am give me power. And that power makes me feel safe. 

Why would I want to give that up? Why would I want to be a jackrabbit in a world of panthers, or a sheep in a world of wolves, or a hen in a world of foxes? No thank you.

The power dynamics in the kingdom of God are especially challenging for those who have power and privilege in the kingdoms of the world. 

So challenging, that we take the gospel, and we re-fashion it in our own image. We so distort the gospel message, that power and might and wealth become wholly compatible with God’s kingdom. 

Never mind that saying about how it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to enter God’s kingdom.

Never mind that there are over 2000 verses in scripture about showing justice to the poor. 

Never mind that Jesus was always challenging those in positions of power, and always showing compassion to - and aligning himself with - those who suffered from their abuses and oppression.

In fact, to be a follower of Jesus, I have to let go of my power. I have to let go, and make a jump to a different kind of power.

The hen doesn’t seek to be like the fox, because then she would no longer be the hen who cares for her brood. If she becomes the fox, she will have gained power and strength, but lost the love and care she had for her chicks. 

You can’t gain the fox’s power without becoming the fox, and all that that entails.

Jesus could have become like Herod, like Caesar. Jesus could have surpassed them in worldly power.

But then he would have no longer been Jesus. 

And just that decision - the decision to stay with the chicks, to stay among the lowly, to remain with those who are most vulnerable - just that decision, all by itself, is powerful in a very different way. 

The other day, on my boat ride back from teaching at Catalina, I was listening to a podcast which featured my friend and clergy colleague Sandhya Jha. And she talked about how there have been times when people protesting for their rights and their dignity have asked her to join them and to even risk arrest with them, because if a clergy person marched with them and was willing to be arrested with them, it would greatly increase the odds that they would all be treated fairly and not abused by the police.

And so Sandhya did.

And I have to wrestle with that: how willing or unwilling am I, to give up my power, my privilege, and be with those who are suffering and oppressed? Really and truly be with them, in every sense?

Because doing that involves giving up a lot of worldly power and privilege. 

But it also taps into a power source that is even more powerful.

It’s the power of love. Compassion. Solidarity. 

And it’s so incredible! It’s the power we see when we look at Jesus on the cross - so totally and completely deprived and drained of all earthly power and privilege, yet so full of the power of God’s love, which, in the end, is a far greater power - more powerful, it turns out, than even death.

And I often fail at tapping into that godly power, because I’m still too attached to earthly power. 

I have a sticker on my water bottle that says, “When we’re not hungry for justice, it’s usually because we’re too full with privilege.” If we’re not willing to give up worldly power, it’s usually because we’ve been relying on it too much instead of relying on God’s power. 

And I wrestle with that. And I let that statement speak to me and challenge me.

In my wrestling, I also know that the power of God’s love is present, always present, and that God’s grace continues to work in me. Jesus never ever gave up on Jerusalem. He didn’t even give up on those who used their power against him! He just continued loving them and their mixed-up ideas of power, which lets me know that Jesus hasn’t given up on me, either.

Jesus still loves me. He’s still working on me, encouraging me to move closer to the path I should follow. And for all the ways I fail him, there is grace. 

Thank you, Jesus, for that grace! Thank you, God, for surrounding me with grace!

And that amazing grace, and that overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God, surround you as well.

Sermon: "Fed Up With Religion" (Luke 13:10-17)

In today’s story from the gospel of Luke, Jesus is teaching in a synagogue.

Jesus was familiar with formal houses of worship: synagogues and temples. As a child, his parents took him to the temple in Jerusalem every year for the festival of Passover. And growing up, Jesus went to the synagogue every week on the Sabbath.

On the other hand, a lot of Jesus’s teaching seems to have taken place outside formal houses of worship: beside a lake, on the road, or from a mountain. And as we read through Luke’s gospel, the formal houses of worship seem to become, for Jesus, a place of confrontation, rather than a place of prayer.

In today’s story, he’s teaching in a synagogue, on the Sabbath, when a woman who had been crippled for 18 years appears. Her body is so broken that she can’t even stand up straight.

When Jesus saw her, he knew she came seeking hope, seeking relief, seeking wholeness. Jesus knew that the synagogue was the right place for that. Religion, he knew, is supposed to restore the one who is broken to wholeness. Religion is supposed to heal the one who is sick. Religion is supposed to help people re-discover a life of wholeness, of meaning, of purpose.

Religion, Jesus knew, is meant to reconnect people to the One who is Love and Compassion, the Giver of Abundant Life. Religion, he knew, was about finding oneself in God, and finding the presence of God in oneself.

Jesus called the woman over, and said to her, “dear woman, you are set free from your ailment.” And she was restored to wholeness.

That is what religion does, when religion is done right.

Religion restores people to wholeness. It sets them free. It takes away whatever it is that pushes down on people’s shoulders and makes them unable to stand.

Religion, when it’s done right, helps people stand tall.

Unfortunately, some practiced their religion very differently.

As soon as this woman stood tall and started praising God, the leader of the synagogue marched over.

He was not happy.

For him, religion was about enforcing the rules.

For him, religion was about letting people know when they’ve made a mistake.

And this woman had obviously made some mistakes. She had obviously sinned. Why else would God have afflicted her with such a terrible ailment? Her ailment was God’s punishment for her sin, and yes, one could work to make her well, but not on the Sabbath.  That would be in violation of the rules.

“There are six days on which work ought to be done! Come on those days, woman, and be cured, but not on the Sabbath day!”

Jesus was, for the most part, an even-tempered kind of guy. When people like the woman in the temple approached him, they may have been in awe or even in fear of him, but with a soft smile and reassuring word, he put them at ease.

But the one thing that did get Jesus riled up, over and over again, were those who mis-used and mis-interpreted religion: People who made religion an obstacle to wholeness rather than the pathway to wholeness that it was meant to be.

And that kind of obstructionist, legalistic religion – religion that placed a weight on people’s shoulders rather than removing that weight – Jesus was completely fed up with.

“You hypocrites!” he exclaimed. “If your ox or your donkey is thirsty, do you make it wait until the Sabbath is over before you give it some water? No! You untie it and lead it to the water so it can drink.”

“Why then should this woman, who has been bent over like this for eighteen long years, be forced to wait a single extra day to be set free and restored to wholeness? Why shouldn’t she be set free on the Sabbath day? That’s what religion is all about!”

And all those who heard Jesus rejoiced. They, too, had become fed up with religion, and this new take on religion was a breath of fresh air.

Sadly, there are people today who are suffocating on religion, desperate for that same breath air that Jesus brought into the synagogue on that day. Because religion today is still used to push people down by adding burdensome weight to their shoulders, rather than lift them up to freedom and wholeness.

And so very many people today are becoming fed up with religion.

And I don’t know about you, but I’m one of them.

I’m fed up with religion that denies the goodness of each and every person’s identity and their expression of that identity.

I’m fed up with religion that claims to be pro-life, but actually makes it so very hard for people to live.

I’m fed up with religion that says some people are better than others, that some lives are worth more than others, because of race or sexual orientation or religion or their status as an immigrant or refugee.

I’m fed up with religion that supports violence against others, religion that supports armed resistance when Jesus said the use of weapons was not his way.

I’m fed up with religion that has sold itself to a political party, backing that party at all costs no matter how contrary to the way of Jesus that party or its leaders have become.

I’m fed up with people telling me they can no longer believe, that they have lost their faith, because all they have heard from religion are words that grind people into the ground rather than lifting them up to life.

I’m fed up with all this; and when I read the Bible, I see that Jesus is fed up, too.

It’s not just this story we heard today. Take a trip with me through Luke’s gospel…

In Luke chapter 5, Jesus eats with those who have been shunned by religion – tax collectors and sinners – and the religious leaders condemn him for it. He also heals a man on the Sabbath, and is condemned for it. Well, he’s fed up with religious leaders who stand in the way of healing and wholeness.

In Luke chapter 7, Jesus eats dinner at the home of a religious leader. A desperate woman, uninvited, enters and wipes his feet with her tears. His host grumbles at this, but Jesus knows that helping her find her way to wholeness is what religion is all about.

Our story today is from Luke chapter 13… In chapter 14, Jesus again eats dinner at the home of a religious leader, this time on the Sabbath. A man appears who is in need of healing, and the religious leaders grumble… but Jesus heals him.

In Luke chapter 15, Jesus is back to eating with those who have been shunned by religion. The religious leaders grumble about this, but Jesus is so fed up with them that he tells them not one, not two, but three stories about finding and welcoming what is lost, including a story about finding and welcoming back a lost son.

In Luke chapter 16, Jesus sees that the religious leaders are more concerned with the temple treasury than they are with restoring people to wholeness, which prompts him to declare: “You cannot serve both God and wealth.” And the religious leaders, who are described as “money-lovers,” sneer.

In Luke 18, there is a parable about two people who go to the temple to pray: a religious leader who takes pride in his holiness, and a sinner who comes seeking wholeness. Jesus condemns the leader for his hypocrisy, and praises the sinner.

In Luke 19, Jesus goes to the home of Zacchaeus, a man considered a sinner by the religious leaders. They tell Jesus not to go, but Zacchaeus is seeking wholeness in his life, and as Jesus says to those religious leaders, his purpose is “to seek the lost and restore them to wholeness.”

By Luke 20, Jesus is really fed up with the religious leaders. By this point he’s explained to them over and over again what religion should be about, but they still don’t get it. So he tells his followers: “Watch out for the religious leaders. They seek honor for themselves and but cheat those who are vulnerable.”

Of course, the religious leaders aren’t happy with Jesus, either. In Luke 22, they have Jesus arrested. He refused to play by their rules, and they were determined to put an end to it. They had him arrested, and turned him over to Rome, which had its own concerns about Jesus. At the very least, he was stirring up excitement, inciting crowds among the Jewish population, and who knows where that would lead? So Rome had Jesus executed by crucifixion.

At that point, it seemed that things were over. His followers disappeared, went into hiding.

And since this whole conflict was over the role of religion, one wonders what God’s opinion on all this was… With Jesus dead, it appeared that God had sided with the religious leaders.

But then God raised Jesus from the dead. In the resurrection, God showed whose version of religion was proper and good. In the resurrection, God showed his approval to Jesus and everything Jesus stood for.

Now, it needs to be said that all this disapproval of the religious leaders wasn’t because they were Jewish. Many Christians throughout the centuries have said that it was because they were Jewish.

But Jesus was Jewish, too. This wasn’t about one religion verses another religion. It wasn’t about Christianity being better than Judaism.

It was a conflict Jesus had with the leaders of his own religion, over the proper role of religion.  Judaism wasn’t the problem. The problem was the religious leaders who completely misunderstood what Judaism was about, and what it was supposed to do.

In the same way, what I’m fed up and what so many people are fed up with isn’t the Christian religion itself, but the way Christianity is presented by so many Christian leaders.

Because we know that the way of Jesus is about finding wholeness.

We know that the way of Jesus is about being set free and standing tall.

We know that the way of Jesus is about living the life you were meant to live.

And it is SO IMPORTANT that we proclaim this to the world. Don’t you think?

So many in our society only hear that religion is about rules and burdens and putting people in their place.

So many only hear that religion is about judgment and condemnation.

So many only hear that religion is about defending our way of life, without asking whether or not our way of life is in line with how Jesus would have us live.

To all those who are FED UP with religion, we say: that’s not what it’s supposed to be about.

You’d think that, after 2,000 years of following Jesus, the church would have a better understanding of this, that we’d be better at proclaiming Jesus’s message of wholeness and healing to the world.

But you know, there’s no better time than NOW to start proclaiming this message to the world.

So let’s do it.

In our conversations with others, when religion comes up, let’s be the first to say, THAT’s not what religion is about; THIS is what religion is about.

In the things we share online, let’s let the world know that our faith is about bringing wholeness to a fragmented world.

In the compassion we show to our community when we feed the hungry or collect clothing or talk with elected leaders about how to help the homeless, let’s show the world what TRUE religion is really about.

Because, like Jesus, we are FED UP with the way religion has been practiced and presented in our world. It’s time to show the world a new way. It’s time to practice our religion the way Jesus practiced his: with love and compassion for all people, lifting people up, removing from them the burdens that have been placed upon their shoulders, so that all people can stand tall and live their lives to the fullest, as God so deeply desires.