Faith the Size of a Mustard Seed, Grace the Size of a Table, Luke 17:1-10

Posted on October 6, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered by Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley on Sunday, October 5, 2025.

This morning is World Communion Sunday. It began back in 1933 when the Rev. Dr. Hugh Kerr of the Shadyside Presbyterian Church in Pittsburgh wanted to have a day where the walls of division come down between denominations and we come gather around that which we all agree. It’s a day the catholic, i.e. universal church, pauses to remember it does not operate in an isolated vacuum. Today Christians of all types from around the world cease talking about their differences with other Christian faiths and come together and share communion celebrating our common family DNA and genealogical ties to Jesus. We meet each other at the common space we share called the communion table.[1] The Table is a visible sign of God’s extravagant grace expressed to us in Christ.

Communion, particularly Worldwide Communion, is all about relationships. God’s relationship with us, our relationship with God, and our relationship with one another. Our scripture text today comes from the Gospel of Luke. It’s a text that highlights these three interconnected relationships.

As I stuck my hands into the mud of this scripture, I quickly discovered that Luke 17:1-10 are not four disparate, non-related teachings but are instead woven together to highlight these three relationships of God with us, of us with God, and each of us with one another. So, although the lectionary directs us to look at verses 5-10, we are going to look at the whole unit of these four teachings Jesus provides. It will help the lectionary text make more sense.

 Before hearing the scripture, I want to remind you that Jesus is once again using the rhetorical technique of hyperbole in order to get his point across. He is exaggerating in each of these teachings to get his point across to even the most clueless of his followers. Hear the Word of the Lord beginning with 17:1.

Luke 17:1-10

            1 Jesus said to his disciples, “Occasions for sin are bound to come, but woe to anyone through whom they come! 2 It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck, and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to sin. 3 Be on your guard! If a brother or sister sins, you must rebuke the offender, and if there is repentance, you must forgive. 4 And if the same person sins against you seven times a day and turns back to you seven times and says, ‘I repent,’ you must forgive.”

            5 The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” 6 The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

            7 “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? 8 Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me; put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? 9 Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? 10 So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”[2]

Verses 1 through 4 set up verses 5 through 10. The set up is this: First, we are told don’t be the source of someone’s moral failure; second, Jesus reminds us our internal well of forgiving another person is bottomless.  

Upon hearing these two commands, the disciples throw up their hands and exclaim, “Jesus! Increase our faith!” To which Jesus replies, for all practical purposes, “You’ve got all the faith you need, just obediently get about using it.”

Our passage this morning is about God’s relationship with us. Jesus is asking you and me to stop and understand that God is not asking us to do anything God has not already done for us which is God actively blessing and forgiving us through the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Christ.

Our passage this morning is about our relationship with God in that we are called to be obedient and live the life we are directed to live, not because we will get any special spiritual perks, but solely because we are fortunate enough to be a part of the family and covenant people of God.

Our passage this morning is about our relationships with one another and how we are not to be “one of those people”; i.e., one of “those Christian hypocrites” that says one thing but acts in a totally different way altogether. We are to help one another walk a smooth spiritual path and not lead people down trails where they will stumble and fall. These are relationships with other people we like or don’t like, agree with or disagree with, understand or do not understand, or even people we have to forcibly learn to tolerate; yet we are still to open up our wells of forgiveness and grace to them as God has opened up the heavenly wellspring of grace and forgiveness to us.

The disciples cried, “Increase our faith!” And Jesus replies, “Put some feet under your convictions and live obedient lives listening to the voice of the Holy One.” It’s right here we are to pause and understand: a person of faith is not a person who achieves a destination exclaiming, “I’ve arrived at faith!” No, faith is a life-long journey where we are daily exercising our belief through obedience to God.

Faith the size of a mustard seed is demonstrated when we forgive those people in our lives who have caused us much hurt and pain. Forgiveness is not the same as forgetting. I cannot forget the incidences of abuse I suffered in my younger years, but I can unhook myself from them. The word Jesus uses for forgiveness in our text literally means “to let go, to send away.” It’s the same word used for a couple divorcing one another. The pains of repeated insult and abuse a person may experience cannot be forgotten; those scars become a part of who we are. We can, however, choose to put the feelings of hate, animosity, and revenge down and walk away from them. We can consciously let them go and divorce, separate ourselves from their toxicity.

Faith the size of a mustard seed is committing to daily wake up and live a life God expects of us as we build and work towards a loving relationship with our neighbor.  

Faith the size of a mustard seed is when a person continues to press ahead even though he or she does all the right things, lives a good, decent life, and tries to follow the Lord but feels their prayers are going unanswered.

Faith is a noun but putting faith to work means living out one’s faithful belief. Believing is a verb and it’s a word that has feet under it! The late Southern author Flannery O’Connor, in her short story, “The Habit of Being,” writes: 

What people don’t realize is how much religion costs. They think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is the cross. It’s much harder to believe than not to believe. If you feel you can’t believe, you must at least do this: keep an open mind. Keep it open toward faith, keep wanting it, keep asking for it, and leave the rest to God.[3]

Beloved, faith is a loving, generous gift from God given to us. But hear this: God cannot use our gift of faith for us; no, we have to exercise and practice that faith both as a community known as the Church and individually in the manner in which we live. Faith is a gift given to us for our relationships with God and with others. There are some actions in our life we simply have to do ourselves; no one can do them for us. Expressing our personal faith is one of those actions.

But how? How? Jesus, increase our faith!

And Jesus replies, “Take, eat. This is my body which is broken and shared with you. Take, drink. This is the cup of the new covenant of sacrificial love and forgiveness given for you.” This table is nourishment for the life-long journey ahead where we discover faith by simply living out the life we are called to live.” We may have faith the size of a mustard seed but that faith is given legs through the grace and nourishment of this Table. In the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.


© 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls New York and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

[1] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Communion_Sunday.

[2] Scripture quotations are taken from the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition. Copyright © 2021 National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

[3] As quoted in For All the Saints. A Prayer Book for and By the Church, Volume III: Year 2, Advent to the Day of Pentecost by Frederick Schumacher with Dorothy A. Zelenko (Dehli, NY: The American Lutheran Publicity Bureau, 2006), 963.

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The Next Generation, Jeremiah 32:1-3, 6-15

Posted on September 29, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on September 28, 2025, by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

The first thing I have to say about this morning’s lectionary reading is that to hear it, it sounds as though it does not make any sense. Turn with me to Jeremiah 32:1–3, 6–15. As you find it, let me set the scene.

Jeremiah is known as the “weeping prophet” because most of his words were hard to hear; he was full of warnings of God’s judgment and lamented over the people’s unfaithfulness. The southern kingdom of Judah had chased after foreign gods and lived lives that proved they had fully broken the covenant with Moses, and now the Babylonian army was building ramparts up against Jerusalem’s walls. The king at the time, Zedekiah, is totally worn out with all of Jeremiah’s unwelcome news. Think of a street preacher with a sign that says, “The end is near!” This is how people perceived him. Finally, the king had Jeremiah confined in the palace court to keep him from stirring up more trouble.

The time is around 588 B.C.E. Babylonian siege ramps are getting constructed up along Jerusalem’s walls. And while Jeremiah sits under arrest, God tells him a vision: “Your cousin Hanamel is going to offer to sell you his field at Anathoth. Buy it.” Anathoth, by the way, is Jeremiah’s hometown just to the north. Listen to this strange Story from the Word of God.

Jeremiah 32:1-3,6-15

32.1The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord in the tenth year of King Zedekiah of Judah, which was the eighteenth year of Nebuchadrezzar.  2At that time the army of the king of Babylon was besieging Jerusalem, and the prophet Jeremiah was confined in the court of the guard that was in the palace of the king of Judah, 3where King Zedekiah of Judah had confined him. Zedekiah had said, “Why do you prophesy and say: Thus says the Lord: I am going to give this city into the hand of the king of Babylon, and he shall take it…

 6Jeremiah said, The word of the Lord came to me: 7Hanamel son of your uncle Shallum is going to come to you and say, “Buy my field that is at Anathoth, for the right of redemption by purchase is yours.” 

8Then my cousin Hanamel came to me in the court of the guard, in accordance with the word of the Lord, and said to me, “Buy my field that is at Anathoth in the land of Benjamin, for the right of possession and redemption is yours; buy it for yourself.” Then I knew that this was the word of the Lord.  9And I bought the field at Anathoth from my cousin Hanamel, and weighed out the money to him, seventeen shekels of silver. 10I signed the deed, sealed it, got witnesses, and weighed the money on scales. 11Then I took the sealed deed of purchase, containing the terms and conditions, and the open copy; 12and I gave the deed of purchase to Baruch son of Neriah son of Mahseiah, in the presence of my cousin Hanamel, in the presence of the witnesses who signed the deed of purchase, and in the presence of all the Judeans who were sitting in the court of the guard. 13In their presence I charged Baruch, saying, 14Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Take these deeds, both this sealed deed of purchase and this open deed, and put them in an earthenware jar, in order that they may last for a long time. 15For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land (NRSV)


So, here in the middle of battle and war, Jeremiah weighs out seventeen shekels of silver, signs a deed, seals it with a notary and witnesses, and gives it to his secretary Baruch to store in a clay jar “so it will last a long time.” Why? Why is he doing this? It’s because, God speaks a word of hope and declares, “Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.”

Huh?

To bring it closer to home and make it real: imagine you’re living in Kyiv today with missiles landing nearby, and you decide to buy a piece of farmland already under Russian occupation. You gather cash, a notary, a few witnesses, and you put the deed in a friend’s safe. People around you would ask, “What on earth are you doing?” Well, this is exactly what Jeremiah did.


Today’s Story shows us how a person of faith responds in chaotic times. It’s a Story that God is aware of the swirly times we are in and still sees a hopeful future we can’t because we are too close to the craziness about us. It is a Story that calls us to look for God’s presence right in the current chaos of uncertainty and to invest in a future we may never see. Unlike our current government which has cut funding in science exploration and climate and environmental initiatives which will benefit our children and grandchildren, Jeremiah thought it wise to give hope to a future generation.

Psychiatrist and Auschwitz survivor Viktor Frankl wrote about this in his book, Man’s Search for Meaning. Surrounded by brutality, he concluded that people find meaning through purposeful work, love, and courage in the face of despair. Even when everything else is stripped away, one freedom remains: Our personal ability to choose our attitude in any given set of circumstances.[1]

I think of what my late wife Kelly taught me and our girls: “I can let cancer and heart failure define me, or I can choose to define what they are to me.” She chose courage, love, and meaning.

Jeremiah did the same. Even while imprisoned, he consciously chose to act out hope. God wanted him to buy that field because God wanted to provide a prophetic sign that God is not finished with God’s people and remembers the covenant that was made with the people of Israel.

Friends, we too live in anxious times; we live in a time when fear runs high. For some, it’s fear that our present Executive branch is running amuck over civil liberties and our Constitution; for others, it’s fear of voices being silenced on our campuses, in our newsrooms, or even in our pews. We fear losing our freedoms, our security, our way of life. These fears are real. But as people of faith, our ultimate hope isn’t anchored to an administration but is grounded in the hope of living God. There is a description for what many in our country are feeling right now. This collective feeling is often described as dystopian anxiety, a mix of moral panic and the mean world syndrome; it is where people are under constant exposure to political violence, chaos, and negative media coverage which makes society feel more dangerous and unstable than it may objectively be.[2] Our fearful projections about the world around us begin to pile up on themselves in a snowball effect. These fears are real.

But our ultimate hope isn’t anchored in presidents or policies. Our hope is grounded in the sovereign, gracious heart of God. We don’t have to manufacture it; the Spirit births it in us. As British scholar Ronald Clements wrote of this passage, “Hope was no longer the short-lived possibility of averting disaster, but rather a discovery that there was no disaster that could take away a hope founded on God.”[3]

This hope lives in the spiritually real but all-too-elusive “already” and the “not yet.” Scripture reminds us that even in the flood, even in the fire, “I am with you and will hold you by my victorious right hand.”[4] But Jeremiah didn’t just personally feel hope; he proactively projected it onto the next generation. He gave Baruch the deed so that when restoration of Jerusalem came, people in the future would have the evidence. Beloved, the fact of the matter is that it is our calling, too; it’s the Church who is called to pass on a living witness of God’s faithfulness. We choose whether we succumb to dystopian anxiety and the mean world syndrome. We choose whether we try to do something about it.

So, I leave you with two questions:

Where is God calling you to look for hope in the swirl of today? What is that hope calling you to do?

Second, who is your Baruch? To whom are you entrusting a deeded word of hope for the next generation to know God’s faithfulness (or are you too wrapped up and immobilized by the mean world syndrome)?

Beloved, we may not live to see the whole restoration God is working on but like Jeremiah, we can plant signs of God’s future in the here-and-now. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

© 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, NY 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, New York and may not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

[1]  See https://www.themarginalian.org/2013/03/26/viktor-frankl-mans-search-for-meaning/. Accessed on 9/23/2022.

[2] Bonnie Evie Gifford, “What is mean world syndrome?”, September 18, 2020, Happiful. See https://happiful.com/what-is-mean-world-syndrome.

[3] R.E. Clements, Jeremiah, Interpretation (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1988), 195. 

[4] See Isaiah 41:8-10.

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Making Sure the Math is Right, Luke 14:25-33

Posted on September 8, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on September 7, 2025 by The Rev. Patrick H. Wrisley, D.Min.

Both of today’s biblical readings deal with making choices. In Deuteronomy 30, Moses reminds the Hebrews that life with God requires a conscious decision. He declares, “Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him.”[1]

For Moses, “choosing life” was not a matter of saying the right words or nodding politely during worship. It meant shaping daily life around obedience to God’s law. It meant living faith actively, not passively. What set Israel apart in the ancient world was that they embodied their faith showing through their behavior and ethics that they belonged to a liberating God.

Luke sets up our passage today with Jesus’ parable of a great banquet. A man throws an extravagant feast and personally invites his closest friends, but one after another they make excuses and don’t attend. Offended, the host tells his servants, “Forget the guest list. Go into the streets. Bring in the poor, the outcast, the forgotten. Compel them to come in.” Those who were first invited will miss the party because they refused to come.

Immediately following that parable, we hear today’s passage. Luke 14:25–33 is Jesus’ own “choose life” challenge to his people; it’s an invitation to follow him that comes with startling demands. Listen closely for the three times Jesus declares, “you cannot be my disciple if…”

Luke 14:25-33

 25 Now large crowds were traveling with him, and he turned and said to them, 26 “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers, and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. 27 Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. 28 For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? 29 Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, 30 saying, ‘This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.’ 31 Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? 32 If he cannot, then while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. 33 So, therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.[2]

Let’s be honest—this is tough to hear. Jesus says we must:

Hate father, mother, wife, children, brothers, and sisters—even our own life.

Carry a cross.

Give up all our possessions.

On top of that, he tells us to sit down and “do the math” before we dare to call ourselves, “Christian.” Did Jesus really say all that?

The problem for many modern readers is that we don’t always read the Bible carefully. We recognize exaggeration and rhetorical devices in everyday life but not so much with our reading of scripture. When a restaurant advertises “The World’s Best Hamburger,” we don’t take it literally. When a car dealership promises “no haggling,” we smile, knowing the sales manager will still try to tack on a few extras.

We instinctively recognize hyperbole, speech that is so exaggerated it’s clearly meant to make a point and not to be taken literally. Yet, when we open Scripture, we sometimes forget to read it with that same nuance and awareness.[3]

Is Jesus really commanding us to hate our parents and grandparents? Of course not. He is using deliberate overstatement to make his point crystal clear: to follow him, our love and loyalty to God must come before every other attachment, even our most cherished ones. In the Jewish world, family was everything; family was your lifeline, your community, your security. But Jesus says even those deep, sacred bonds must take second place to him. Methodist pastor Mark Ralls puts it well: 

The point is not how we relate to members of our family, but how we respond to the call of God. A uniquely challenging divine call invites an unqualified human response.[4]

Jesus is not tearing down families; he is calling us to an even greater allegiance.

What about carrying a cross? Is Jesus telling us to build a wooden beam and haul it around town? Obviously not. Again, this is hyperbole. Jesus is warning that discipleship involves death; it means death to our ego, death to our unhealthy attitudes, death to our overly sated sense of pride.

Before there can be resurrection, there must be Good Friday. Discipleship means dying to anything that keeps us from loving God fully and loving our neighbor as well, whether it’s pride, prejudice, partisanship, greed, or self-centeredness.

Then Jesus gives two quick vignettes: a builder who runs out of money mid-project and a king who counts his troops before going to war. Both point us to take discipleship seriously and to reflect upon what it will require.

It’s like Jesus is asking:

Have you considered how following me will shape your lifestyle?

Have you thought about how it affects your family, your work, and your finances?

Have you done the math to see if you’re truly willing to stay the course?

Finally, Jesus says, “None of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions.” Is he demanding that we liquidate everything and live in poverty? No. But he is demanding that we hold everything loosely. Nothing that we own, not our houses, cars, boats, motorcycles, or investments can be allowed to come before our obedience to Christ.

Jesus is saying, “You cannot hold my hand if your fists are clenched around your stuff.” Everything we have belongs to God in the first place, entrusted to us for God’s purposes.

Beloved, Jesus is asking us to count the cost of following him. Discipleship is not a casual hobby or a box to check on Sunday morning. It’s a whole-life response to God’s grace. John Burgess reminds us: 

The disciple must leave everything behind. One enters into a new life that breaks decisively with what one has been before.[5]

And then he quotes Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who spoke of costly grace: It is costly because it costs people their lives; it is grace because it thereby makes them live.

So, here’s the question: Does our Christian walk reflect a convenient, cheap-graced love for Jesus, or is it cruciform and reflect a holy love that costs us something?

This week, I invite each of us to name one concrete way we can embody discipleship with costly grace. What can we do or say this week that intentionally puts Christ first, even if costs us comfort, security, or pride?

Jesus is not calling us to a life of misery. He is calling us to an abundant, joy-filled life. It is a life that demands everything, because it is a life worth everything.  What will you choose? Amen.

© 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley, Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published, or preached without permission. All rights reserved.

[1] Deuteronomy 30:19-20a.

[2] New Revised Standard Version (NRSV). New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[3] “Hyperbole is the opposite of understatement. It is a bold exaggeration used for dramatic effect. If you are an outsider unfamiliar with the linguistic rules of the game, it can be infuriating.” See, Feasting on the Gospels–Luke, Volume 2: A Feasting on the Word Commentary by Cynthia A. Jarvis, E. Elizabeth Johnson https://a.co/1sXJjRT.

[4] See Feasting on the Gospels–Luke, Volume 2: A Feasting on the Word Commentary by Cynthia A. Jarvis, E. Elizabeth Johnson, https://a.co/cWjXOdT.

[5] John Burgess, Feasting on the Gospels–Luke, Volume 2: A Feasting on the Word Commentary by Cynthia A. Jarvis, E. Elizabeth Johnson. See https://a.co/9qUfrjw.

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Have a Piece of Humble Pie, Luke 14:1, 7-14

Posted on September 2, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A sermon delivered on August 31, 2025 by Patrick H. Wrisley, D.Min.

Here’s a riddle: What’s the one thing you can strive for, but once you have it, you immediately lose it?

Humility.

So, let me ask you: Are you a humble person? Be careful now; you better think before you answer! Now, hold that thought, and let’s turn to our text.

Luke tells us Jesus was invited to dinner at the home of a Pharisee – a very serious religious leader, who knew the Law backward and forward and who lived life with impressive polish. These were the movers and shakers of their world. Their robes were crisp, their manners impeccable, and their social standing was secure.

The meal begins, and Jesus quietly watches as the guests angle for the best seats at the table. Without being asked by the host to do so, Jesus goes on to tells a parable, a story; we may tend to think it a story about proper dining etiquette but rather, it’s a parable that gives us a glimpse into God’s kingdom and how the Kingdom is structured. Jesus serves his hosts and others a slice of proverbial humble pie.  Listen to the text from Luke 14:7-14.

Luke 14:1, 7-14

14.1On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the Sabbath, they were watching him closely…

7When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. 8“When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, ‘Give this person your place,’ and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” 12He said also to the one who had invited him, “When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. 13But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. 14And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”(NRSV)

This isn’t a teaching about table manners; no, it’s a description about how we live in community. Jesus is saying, “Imitate me.” But how do we do that?  We do that by changing our perspective and point of view. 

Think of the least desirable table in a crowded restaurant; do you know the one? It’s the one by the kitchen door. Have you ever sat there? It’s noisy. The door slams into the back of your chair. You hear the clatter of dishes, the cooks yelling orders, the staff grumbling about that impossible customer at Table 16. You see things you wouldn’t see from the best table in the room; no you see a dropped lemon wedge scooped off the floor and tossed back in the bowl, a waiter wiping his nose with his sleeve, and hear managers hollering at the staff. 

When you sit by the kitchen, you start to notice who’s struggling, who’s invisible, who’s under pressure. You can learn empathy. You begin to see the whole room differently.

Contrast this with sitting at the best table in the house where you have beautiful views, quiet conversations, and doting staff service.  The Manager usually comes by and checks on you. Other customers watch the staff fawn over you and your party and build up in their mind how special you must be or how important you are.

Friends, here is the uncomfortable and inconvenient thing Jesus is asking us to do. To be like Jesus and to live in God’s reign, we are told to give up our seats of privilege and choose a place where we see life from the margins. When we do, we begin to understand how others live: those who never get the best table, those whose voices aren’t heard, those who are told in subtle ways they don’t matter.

That shift of perspective we get is the soil where humility grows.

Humility isn’t about pretending to be small or timid. It’s not something you “achieve”; humility is a way of being. Humility is our conscious choice to see others first; it’s letting go of our self-importance. Humility is to learn gratitude for what we do have rather than grasp for what we think we’re owed. When our personal perspective changes, so does our response to the people around us. We begin to feel their isolation and hurt. Our hearts grow larger. Our arms open wider.

This, after all, is exactly what Jesus did. Philippians 2 says that though he was in the form of God, he emptied himself and took the form of a servant. In other words, God changed seats! In Christ, God left the best table in heaven to sit by the kitchen door with us. Jesus entered our world, our flesh, our time, to see and experience humanity from the inside out. That’s humility and humility is always an expression of love. 

Even our word “humility” comes from the Latin humus; humus is the rich dark soil, the very dirt of the ground composted with dead leaves and broken things; humus is the very stuff that makes new life possible. Isn’t that what happened at the cross? On Good Friday, Jesus became humus; he laid his own life, becoming composted soil out of which new life sprung forth on Easter morning!

And here’s the wonder of it all, beloved. Jesus calls us to be that kind of soil, too. We too are to give up our seats of honor, to let our lives become a place where others are nourished, where God’s kingdom takes root here and now.

Beloved, when we change our seat, we change our perspective. And when we change our perspective, God changes our hearts. Jesus is calling us to imitate his humility for the sake of a world hungry for grace. Our life, the church’s life, is the compost soil, the rich humus, where new life is formed by the Spirit. In the Name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

© 2025 by Patrick H. Wrisley. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801 and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission.   All rights reserved.

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Reclaiming the Sabbath, Luke 13:10-17

Posted on August 25, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered on August 24, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley

By the end of last Wednesday, I was unable to give Patty a sermon title as it had not come to me yet. Well, it eventually did and so today I am building my thoughts upon these three words: Reclaiming the Sabbath.

Turn with me to Luke 13:10–17. Our story takes place in a Jewish synagogue where Jesus is teaching. In his day, teachers sat down to teach, so picture Jesus seated at the front of the congregation, discussing some aspect of the Torah. As you hear this passage, I invite you to join him there. See the room. Smell the air. Hear the rustle of robes. Notice the people gathered and imagine what they must have looked like and felt during this encounter. Like us, they did not have the luxury of air conditioning either! This morning, I want you to listen with “Jewish ears.” Pretend you are there in that first century synagogue and are attuned to the language, the customs, and the cultural texture of the Sabbath life.

Luke 13:10-17

10Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the sabbath. 11 And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13 When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. 14 But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the sabbath day.” 15 But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? 16 And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?” 17 When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing. 

With any Bible study, we begin with the characters. Who are the characters in our story?

There is Jesus, the teacher. We have the synagogue leader whose job is to keep everything decent and in order. Then there is the woman who has lived her life bent over in pain for eighteen years. Finally, there is the crowd, the hoi polloi of ordinary Jewish worshipers who under obligation dutifully came to the synagogue as they did each Saturday. 

Let’s begin with a question: Of all the characters in the Story, which one do you most relate with in the narrative?

We’ll assume none of us would dare identify as Jesus as that would be a stretch! So, perhaps you identify with the physically impaired woman? Crippled for nearly two decades, most likely stereotyped by all her neighbors as a sinner, she is a nobody. She is unable to look at anyone in the eye or even look up into the blue sky or the starlit night. Hers is a world that consists of people’s feet. You shuffle along, you ache, you’re invisible. You feel alone.

Maybe you affiliate with the synagogue ruler? Concerned above all with protocol and proper decorum, you think, “This is the way we’ve always done it. It worked for my grandparents, it worked for my parents, and it works for me. Don’t rock the boat.” You like order, predictability, and the comfortable power that comes with enforcing the rules. There are a lot of synagogue rulers in churches today!

Then again, perhaps you identify with being one of the people in the crowd at the synagogue. You came expecting “the same-old, same-old” at worship that day but this new preacher is stirring things up. Part of you thinks, “This isn’t how we do things! Momma Schwartz is not going to be too pleased!” But another part of you feels something different, something alive. You begin to think this Jesus really gets it and gets us, too!

So, with whom do you best identify with in the story? Also, what does your character think this story is really about?

Is it about the healed woman? Is it about Jesus as a rabble-rouser and rule breaker? Maybe the Story is all about religious rules? There again, perhaps it is about something deeper and completely different.

The woman’s healing is certainly important, especially to her! Yet the woman and her healing are mere foils that shine the spotlight on the heart of this passage: Our Story today is asking us to deal with what it really means to honor the Sabbath.

For the crippled woman, Sabbath was a day to come before God in community as an equal. For the synagogue ruler, it was a day to maintain proper decorum and ensure the Mosaic Law was followed. For the crowd crammed into the synagogue, it was a weekly duty and obligation to be fulfilled; it is just what you did.

What was it for Jesus? What was the Sabbath really for in his mind?  Jesus noticed the Sabbath had grown stale. It had become about majoring in the minors and minoring in the majors, i.e. focusing on rules rather than living a meaningful life, on obligations rather than grace. Jesus reminds us that Sabbath was given as a gift—a day to remember God’s gracious provision and liberation, to step off the hamster wheel of daily striving and be renewed by God’s presence.

There are similar patterns today as how people understand the Sabbath and worship. For some, worship is simply a place to escape isolation or loneliness even if no one notices you’re there. For others, worship is about keeping familiar traditions alive and well because this is the proverbial “way we’ve always done it.” For still others, Sunday attendance is little more than an obligation or duty. And increasingly, many people today think they don’t need church at all. “I can find God on my own.”

Our friends in Alcoholics Anonymous know better. They know you can’t find sobriety alone. So why do so many Christians think they can grow spiritually alone, without the accountability and encouragement of community? I can offer several myths as to how people think today. Now remember, a myth is not a made-up story; a myth is a narrative that shapes a person’s thinking on something.

First, there is the myth of cultural Individualism. Many people have developed the belief that faith is a “private matter” between them and God. They might pray, read scripture, or think about God but feel no need for a communal setting.

Second, there is a sense of woundedness or disillusionment. Many have been hurt by churches through hypocrisy, judgmentalism, exclusion, or scandals. For them, avoiding church feels safer or more authentic than returning to a place associated with pain.

Third, there have been major cultural shifts in society. In Western culture, Sunday is no longer a protected time for worship. Work schedules, sports, and family activities compete against it. Church is not the “center of community life” the way it once was. The guiding myth is that Sunday is just another day to get stuff done. 

Next, people like to say, “I am Spiritual but Not Religious.” In other words, a growing number say they experience God more in nature, in giving service to others, or in quiet reflection than in institutional worship. They see the institutional church as unnecessary for genuine spirituality.

Along similar lines, folks have a growing belief that institutions cannot be trusted. Just look at Washington and what’s going on there today! Many people, especially younger generations, are skeptical of large institutions, whether political, corporate, or religious. Church, in their eyes, feels rigid or controlling rather than freeing.

Finally, people today identify with a theology of minimalism. These are Christians who genuinely believe that “As long as I believe in Jesus, that’s enough.” They do not see church attendance as essential for salvation or spiritual growth.

Is it any wonder why the church is not growing today? 

Still, there are those handful of devoted who come to worship, believe it or not, because they are truly expecting to meet God here, to be changed by God here, and to encounter grace fresh and full.

Our text today is Jesus’ way of opening a window and showing us the other side and he tells us, “This is what Sabbath and worship are all about.” Sabbath and worship aren’t just about following the rules. 

Sabbath and worship are about intentionally putting ourselves in a position so we can encounter and engage the living God who is purposefully seeking you and me.

They are about God lifting Christ’s church up and pouring into it liberating grace and renewal despite us.

Sabbath and worship are about a community who consistently shows up to help remind each other that 1) we need each other, 2) we have got one another’s back.

When you and I honor Sabbath and come to worship, it means we are expecting to leave this place, to finish this day, knowing there is a going to be difference made in us and in each other.

When Jesus healed the bent-over woman, he showed that Sabbath is a day for freedom, wholeness, and restoration. It’s a day to expect God to do something wonderful. Beloved, this is what it means to reclaim the Sabbath. Amen.

© 2025 Patrick H. Wrisley. Sermon manuscripts are available for the edification of members and friends of First Presbyterian Church of Glens Falls, 8 West Notre Dame Street, Glens Falls, NY 12801 and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission.   All rights reserved.

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