Sermons

When grief leaves us wordless and a hard parable unsettles us, Jesus promises that nothing – not even death – can separate us from God’s love.

We don’t need a stairway to heaven. We need eyes to see it already here, in nature, in the body, in ordinary life.

Sowing without sorting the soil first: reckless, generous welcome amid addiction, loss, and quiet hope.

Being “inclusive” doesn’t end the old habit of exclusion – it just relocates it. Jesus offers a different yoke instead.

Fear-driven religion and fear-driven politics run on the same engine. Paul knew it. Abraham discovered it. Grace is the only thing that breaks the cycle.

Faith is not a mental exercise — it’s the reaching, grasping, hoping of beggars who trust that God’s grace will prevail.

An ancient icon of the Trinity shows us a table of radical hospitality — and calls us not just to sit at it, but to become it.

Jesus offers living water to a world sold counterfeit spirits — but bad experiences with cheap substitutes needn’t put us off the real thing.

When everything familiar has gone and the new thing hasn’t arrived yet, the disciples’ upper room is closer to home than we might think.

Paul in Athens, a Muslim Uber driver, and a Georgian bishop walk into a sermon — and together reframe what Christian interfaith encounter could look like.

Philip asked Jesus to show him God. The answer dismantles centuries of angry-God theology — and exposes the retributive impulse hiding in all of us.

Jesus came that we might have life in abundance — but abundant life can’t be hoarded. The moment we try to secure it for ourselves at others’ expense, it stops being life at all.