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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The Jack Russell Gospel, Luke 12:49-56

Posted on August 18, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley on August 17, 2025.

There is a sense of urgency building in Luke’s gospel. Last week, you remember, Jesus reminds us God’s love for us is as a Shepherd caring for its lambs and tells us not to be afraid. Luke then records Jesus telling parables about the imminent inbreaking of God’s Kingdom. The tone is urgent and he issues an imperative call to be ready.

Today, we pick up the Story and can palpably feel the tension in Jesus’ teaching. He’s eager to get things moving and fulfill what he came to do. So in today’s passage Jesus gives us what I like to call his caveat emptor for discipleship. This is Jesus’ “buyer beware” for anyone who would take on the name and life of a Christ-follower.

Luke 12:49-56

49“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! 50I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! 51Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! 52From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three;53they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law.”

54He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, ‘It is going to rain’; and so it happens. 55And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat’; and it happens. 56You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?

When you buy a house, the seller is required to make a full disclosure of any issues with the house or property. If the HVAC is 25 years old and barely hanging on, you must tell the buyer. If the basement leaks every time it rains, you must disclose that, too. And if there’s an ancient cemetery under the backyard? Well…let’s just say that’s a detail you’d better share. Caveat emptor. Buyer beware. Before you commit to buying the house, you’d better know exactly what you’re getting into.

Our text today has Jesus making a full disclosure of what it means to fall in behind him. He’s turned his face toward Jerusalem, knowing that what happens there will open the floodgates of God’s reign on earth. This is his “get ‘er done” moment. The tsunami of God’s redeeming love is building offshore, and it’s headed our way. And when that wave hits, it’s going to stir things up.

From the very beginning, on Christmas morning itself, Jesus’ presence caused disruption. We could say, borrowing from Lucasfilm, that his coming was a “disturbance in the Force.” Jesus challenged the religious status quo of his day which was an overly ritualized and rule-bound faith that left little room for the living God. The keepers of that system saw him as a threat to their power. And we know what they did to him.

He challenged the social status quo, too. He criss-crossed the boundaries of ethnicity, class, gender, and respectability. Do you remember Mary’s song in Luke 1? What we call The Magnificat is not just a sweet lullaby; think more of it as a Vietnam War protest song. Mary’s song was a political and social bombshell: God brings down the powerful, lifts up the lowly, fills the hungry with good things, and sends the rich away empty. The Magnificat was a direct challenge to the Roman Empire and the current religious establishment alike. And we know what they did to him.

Everywhere Jesus went, his words and actions stirred the pot, or as late Georgia Congressman, John Lewis would say, cause “good trouble.” He took status quo conventions of his day and flipped them upside down. He told the poor people they were rich and the rich were poor. He said the first in line would be last and the last in line would be first. He declared that loving even your enemies shows more of God’s heart than any religious ritual or festival.

For Jesus, the presence of the Kingdom of God in someone’s life or in the world looked something like this: Imagine an 8-foot square little room that was full of two dozen fat, sleepy cats.  Now imagine opening a little trap door on the top of the room and then dropping a 2-year-old Jack Russell terrier into the midst of them. Can you picture it? It’s scene of complete chaos. Friends, this is what the inbreaking of God’s Kingdom is like when it encounters our lives. Folks should know something is going on with us.

And here’s the thing: when we live out the Kingdom ethic, that is, choosing love over violence, moderation over extremism, mutual respect over hatred, then some people will get uncomfortable, particularly the power brokers of the systems. People may get uncomfortable, not because we’re trying to pick fights, but because when we reflect God’s values in the world it’s going to cause some good trouble. Why? Because God’s ways are in tension with the world’s ways.

Jesus does not want family members to be at odds with each other, but he is realistic; when the values of the reign of God clash with the values of the world, there will be friction.

Think about it:

A deeply compassionate person makes an intolerant person squirm.

A person full of peace and calm during a fretful time frustrates those addicted to angst and outrage.

A person who is patient and deliberate in their actions totally unnerves the perpetually hurried.

The presence of Jesus in our lives and in the life of our church will provoke a response from folks in the world.

At least, it should.

Too often, we Christians forget who we are and where we get our identity. We tend to model the values and fads of our society rather than the person of Jesus. The expression of our Christian faith can become so bland that even our coworkers are surprised to learn we even go to church! There again, sometimes the church itself works so hard to “fit in” and look attractive to the world that it loses its holy distinctiveness. We trade the costly way of love for Christianity-Lite – a Christian faith that doesn’t require much from us.

If we’re not causing good trouble, both as individual followers of Christ and as a congregation, then maybe it’s time for some self-examination.

I’m not talking about standing on a street corner with a bullhorn, shouting “turn or burn.” And I’m not talking about prideful, judgmental attitudes. I mean being the winsome, gracious, fragrant presence of Jesus in our everyday lives to the people we come in contact each and every day. It is the kind of presence that unsettles the world not through force, but through the irresistible power of love.

So, this week, my friends, let’s each of be that Jack Russell terrier in the room full of sleepy cats. Let’s go spread some good trouble out there with the love and grace of Jesus.

And all God’s people said, 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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Fear Not, Little Flock, Luke 12:32-40

Posted on August 11, 2025 by patrick h wrisley

A Sermon Delivered by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley on Sunday, August 10, 2025.

Luke 12:32-40

32“Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. 33Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. 35“Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; 36be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. 37Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them.38If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves. 39“But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. 40You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

This morning, we hear some of the most tender and reassuring words Jesus ever spoke. Words that were not shared the large masses nor to the powerful or the prominent, but to those closest to him – the vulnerable, the uncertain, the anxious. Did you hear them?

“Do not be afraid.”

This phrase, “do not be afraid,” is one of the most repeated commands in both the Old Testament and New Testaments; in fact, Jesus uses it three times just in this one chapter of Luke. The phrase shows up again and again because the entirety of scripture is full of humanity’s best and worst moments. Fear is prominent thread throughout the Bible and Jesus knows we need to hear this reminder over and over again; he especially knows this when we are emotionally fragile, are confused, or weighed down by the chaos our present world.

Secondly, did you notice how Jesus addresses us?  He said, “Don not be afraid, little flock.” We are his little flock. It’s intimate and affectionate. It’s as though he is telling us, “No fear, my little lambs.” It’s a shepherd talking to his sheep. We are the lambs.  As such…

We are vulnerable.  

We are not the strongest or the wisest animals out there.  

We sometimes push and jostle one another at feeding time.  

We don’t see very well.  We are smelly.We get scattered and distracted.  

We bleat, grumble, and snort a lot.

And the deal is this: we are not lone lambs and sheep in the wilderness. We are part of the larger flock with others and this one point that makes all the difference. You see, when one lamb can’t quite hear the Shepherd’s voice, the rest of the flock helps listen out for it. We sheep rely on each other, we draw strength from one another, we stay connected to one another; we do this, not just out of instinct, but because that’s how the Shepherd designed it. The flock is not a random collection of individuals; it is a community, a body, a people called the Church who are to look out for one another when the Shepherd seems distant or when one among us is lost.

Even when the Shepherd must go searching for the one who’s gone astray, he leaves the flock knowing we’ll hold together. And while the Shepherd may seem to tarry, we trust he will return—because that’s who the Shepherd is. The Shepherd cannot be anything other than what the Shepherd is at his very core: loving, faithful, generous, attentive. The Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The Shepherd’s one purpose is to care for us. Consequently, the Shepherd reminds us we need not be afraid.  

Friends, what comforting words for such a swirly mixed-up, muddled up time as this.  We live in a world where fear seems baked into our daily headlines. Terrorism, political division, climate change, runaway costs of living, the rise of Christian nationalism and violence, and yes, even the growing national anxiety that our economic, civic, governmental and religious institutions are not as stable as they once were. It’s enough to make you wonder: how do people get through the day without some grounding in faith?

Beloved, there is hope and assurance for those of us in the faith because we are part of the little flock called the Church. We are not left to fend for ourselves. We have a Shepherd. We have one another. We are the Church – the gathered community of lambs and smelly sheep. We are created to be a community of comfort, courage, and connection for each other in the midst of fear.

Yet even as we rest in the Shepherd’s care, Jesus gives us a word of challenge.  Be ready, he says. Be dressed for action. Keep your lamps lit.  In other words, don’t get too comfortable or complacent. Jesus calls us to be alert and watchful. He calls us to live intentionally, strategically.

And how do we do that? He says we must travel light. As fearful sheep, we have a proclivity to grab hold of stuff whether real or imagined to give us a sense of security and safety. When we start grabbing stuff out of fear, we let go of God’s hand to do so. So, Jesus tell us tells us to let go of the stuff and reach out for God’s hand.  

Let go of the possessions and priorities the world tells us we must cling to.  

Let go of the wealth or the drive to acquire more things that weigh us down.  

Let go of the distractions that numb our spirit. 

Because all the stuff we either store up or fail to accumulate in our in barns, bank accounts, or closets can rob us of our focus and our joy. And in the end, it only fuels our fear.

Did you know that one of the root meanings of the word fear is “to hesitate” or to balk at something? That makes sense. Fear causes us to freeze up and second-guess our decisions or even other people. Fear pulls us back when we should move forward.

It’s like teaching a teenager to drive. You tell them, “If you’re going to change lanes or turn across traffic, you must commit. Don’t hesitate, just go. Once you start the turn, see it through.” Fearful hesitation can cause more harm than action. It’s the same in our spiritual life. Fear causes us to hesitate when God is calling us to move, to commit.

This, Jesus says, is how to live in the Kingdom of God. Let go of the things that burden you. Carry only what truly matters. Travel light and trust God has the rest.  But if we’re honest, that is not always easy to do.

I remember a moment when I had to confront this truth in myself. I was spending a few days in the mountains of eastern Tennessee, surrounded by snow and silence. A friend had a beautiful cabin perched on a ridge with views that stretched for miles. I sat outside puffing on a pipe admiring the scene’s beauty taking it all in. I began thinking, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a place like this one day? I wish I could afford it.” I began feeling this deep sense of envy creeping, dare I say jealousy?, into my gut. Just then in this mystical moment, the Spirit whispered, 

Patrick, you don’t have to own this to enjoy it. These are my hills, my valleys—and they are yours too. When you hold nothing, you can receive everything. When you own nothing, you possess it all. 

That’s the paradox of the Kingdom of God – when we let go and in doing so, we inherit it all.

So, I ask you, beloved:  What are you still clinging to?  What fears, what possessions, what ambitions or grudges or insecurities are weighing you down and keeping you from fully living in the presence of God that is already at hand?

Jesus is inviting us to put it all down. He is asking us to lay everything at his feet without any hesitation. The Lord wants us to open our hands so we can receive more of the promised blessing.

Kayla McClurg, a pastor whose writing I admire, once reflected on this passage. She wrote,

Do not be afraid, little flock—even in times of assault and violence, disrespect and meanness, when even the ones we call leaders speak all manner of evil against you. Do not be afraid. God is, right now, growing among us a different kind of kingdom, a realm of love and hope. How shall we live if we want to practice this realm of be-not-afraid? Jesus says, for one thing, to go ahead and release everything we cling to, and start to give. Start carrying new kinds of purses for our real valuables, the kind that do not wear out, that no thief can steal away from us.[1]

Church, Jesus never asks us to do what he hasn’t already done himself. On the night before he died, in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus faced his own deep fears; he too hesitated. He prayed, “Father, if it’s possible, take this cup from me.” He hesitated. He balked. But ultimately, he let go. “Not my will, but yours be done.”

He surrendered everything so his fledgling, scared, smelly little flock of followers could be restored to God. This morning, I invite us to reflect upon what causes us fear and anxiety. What are we holding onto that is keeping us from living fully in God’s presence?  And once we each know what it is, remember Jesus words: Don’t be afraid little flock.    

© 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.

[1] Kayla McClurg, Be Not Afraid, Inward/Outward, August 7, 2016.  Accessed on 8/7/16 at http://inwardoutward.org.

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