Really?, John 5:1-8

A Sermon delivered by Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley on Sunday, May 25, 2025.

For giggles and grins one afternoon, I typed into Google, “If I could ask Jesus one question, what would it be?” I was curious what people would ask. As I began to read some of the answers, one person wrote, “How’s my mom, doing?” Another asked, “Why did I get sick?” A third person asked what I thought was a great one: Jesus, how am I doing down here? As I read the answers, it hit me: I was asking Google the wrong question. The better question is, “If Jesus were to ask me one question, what would I want it to be?” A derivative of that question is, “What is one question I would not want him to ask me?”

What if he were to ask you, “Why do you drink so much?” 

What if he asked, “Why do you continue to live in an abusive relationship?

He might ask you, “Why are you so afraid?” Or “Why don’t you trust me?” There are all types of questions Jesus could ask but the one that would make me shake in my boots would be if Jesus drew his face close to mine and he gives a doggy-head-tilt and asks, “Really?”

Think about how unnerving a question that would be to get asked by him. 

“Really….what?” Now you’re worried that whatever you say is going to come out wrong and you begin to shuffle from side to side. Is he questioning something I have said or done? Is he incredulous with me? Today we have a Story where Jesus asks someone a pointed question and it is a question loaded with grace.

Today we find Jesus in Jerusalem at one of the Jewish festival days. The city would be teaming with people and animals for the Temple sacrifices. In the northeast part of the city, there was a small obscure gate into Jerusalem called the Sheep Gate and nearby a pool that was known for its healing qualities. It was a favorite location for people who were sick or wounded and off the beaten path for those Jews who wanted to remain ritually pure by staying away from “those types of people.” In other words, Jesus made a point to go there. Listen to the Word of the Lord.

John 5:1-18

5.1 After this there was a festival of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 

Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk. 

Now that day was a sabbath. 10 So the Jews said to the man who had been cured, “It is the sabbath; it is not lawful for you to carry your mat.” 11 But he answered them, “The man who made me well said to me, ‘Take up your mat and walk.’ ” 12 They asked him, “Who is the man who said to you, ‘Take it up and walk’?” 13 Now the man who had been healed did not know who it was, for Jesus had disappeared in the crowd that was there. 14 Later Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, “See, you have been made well! Do not sin any more, so that nothing worse happens to you.” 15 The man went away and told the Jews that it was Jesus who had made him well. 16 Therefore the Jews started persecuting Jesus, because he was doing such things on the sabbath. 17 But Jesus answered them, “My Father is still working, and I also am working.” 18 For this reason the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him, because he was not only breaking the sabbath, but was also calling God his own Father, thereby making himself equal to God.  (John 5:1–18, NRSV)

I read this Story and it’s all I can do is to shake my head and ask, “Really? Did this guy stiff Jesus like that?” Jesus goes out of his way, approaches a man who is well-known to have been hanging out by the pool for a long time, and asks him a simple question. “Do you want to be healed?” Interestingly, the man does not even answer Jesus’ question but begins making excuses why he cannot get to the pool. Jesus at once diagnoses the real problem. The problem is not that the man cannot walk; the problem is the man is mentally and socially stuck in his learned helplessness. The man’s physical ailments were symptoms of a deeper brokenness; you see, the man had grown comfortable in his discomfort. His illness had become part of his identity. 

Jesus did not approach him and say, “Hi, I’m Jesus. Peace upon you.” He did not say, “Hi, what’s your name?” Jesus knew who he was and did not waste time in small talk. He understood the man’s identity was wrapped up in his illness. Biblical scholar, Amy-Jill Levine writes, “Identity can become so caught up in the sense of infirmity, especially if coupled with appreciation of sympathy and the willingness of others to help, that the status quo becomes the more comfortable position. Physicians have greater success rates when their patients want to be healed. Not everyone does.”[1]

Years ago, I had to take part in a family intervention for a member of the family who was an alcoholic. We all loved this person dearly but did not love the way we were treated when they had too much to drink. So, one Sunday morning at about 7 a.m., a psychologist who was trained in addiction issues came to the house. The whole family got up and we awakened our beloved who had the drinking problem and gathered in the den. One by one, we went around the room and said, “I love you very much but your drinking hurts me. When you have too much to drink, your personality changes and you say ugly things to me which you do not remember saying. I remember what you said and did and it hurts me deeply.” Then another child adds, “I love you, too. Yet, the other night when I had my friends over, you were so drunk you could not form your words. I was so embarrassed and had to defend your actions later to my buddies. I do not feel safe bringing my friends over.”

And one by one, we each expressed our love to this person but were also honest about our concern how this person’s drinking directly affected each of us. We wanted to jar them into realizing their identity was not tied to alcohol but with their vital relationship with all the members of his family. 

For all those years, this man had someone each day take him and place him by the Sheep Pool. It shaped how he saw himself and how he looked at life. Jesus who is the wellspring of Living Water offers healing and wholeness the pool’s waters could not provide. Jesus perceives the man’s need and acts upon it. The man stands up and walks. No longer can he rely on his old identity; now he has the opportunity to form and create a new identity for himself because of God’s graciousness toward him. And what does he do? He takes his mat and walks away. There is no record he even said, “Thank you” to Jesus. Sometime later, Jesus finds the man in the Temple and reminds the man of his new identity and gives him a gentle warning to live into it. Once again, Jesus is not acknowledged for what he has done; instead, the man goes to the religious officials and reports on Jesus; from this point on in John’s Gospel, Jesus begins to be persecuted. I can almost hear Jesus asking the healed man, “Really?” It would appear the man’s broken identity remained even though his broken body had been healed.

This morning, we too are asked by the text, “Do you want to be whole? Do you want to be well?” What is it in your life and in mine that defines who we are in ways that are not healthy or beneficial to us or others? This morning, we are given the invitation to lift those broken places within us and ask for healing and wholeness. Please pray with me…     

© 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] The Gospel of John: A Beginner’s Guide to the Way, the Truth, and the Life by Amy-Jill Levine -see https://a.co/dOEou2f.

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The Voice of the Good Shepherd, John 10:22-30

The Good Shepherd by Robert Zünd (Swiss, 1827-1909)

A Sermon Delivered May 11, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

Once upon a time, there was a fierce and brilliant Greek military commander named Alexander—the one we now call Alexander the Great. He conquered a vast empire stretching from Greece, down into Egypt, and east through Palestine and Mesopotamia, all the way to India. But Alexander died young—only 32 years old—about 300 years before Jesus was born. After his death, his empire was divided among his four leading generals. They split the territories into four regions: Greece, Egypt, what we now call the Middle East, and India.

One of those generals, Seleucus, took control of the region that included Palestine, Syria, Iraq, and Iran. This became known as the Seleucid Empire. Fast forward some 130 years: a ruthless king named Antiochus Epiphanes rose to power in that empire. He did something that sent shockwaves through the Jewish world—he erected a statue of the Greek god Zeus inside the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem.

It was an act of desecration that sparked a full-blown revolt. A Jewish family known as the Maccabees led the charge. They fought back, and in 164 BCE, they reclaimed the city of Jerusalem. One of the first acts the Jewish people did was to go into the Temple and tear down that statue. They began to purify the Temple, stone by stone, removing anything defiled and replacing it with freshly hewn stone.

Then, they celebrated. For eight nights in a row, they held a dedication ceremony for the renewed Temple. That celebration became what we now know as the Festival of Dedication—or as we call it—Hanukkah. Finally, some 140 years before Jesus’ birth, the Jews had fully liberated their land and—for the first time in centuries—were operating as an independent nation. That lasted for about 80 years, until they invited Roman mercenaries in to help settle growing unrest from neighboring countries…and, well, we know how that turned out.

So, why do I mention all this?

Because it gives us the deeper context for today’s Gospel passage. You see, stories in Scripture aren’t told in a vacuum. Every word matters. Every detail carries weight. And John, the Gospel writer, is no exception.

At this point in John’s Gospel, Jesus has just healed a man born blind—on theSabbath. That miracle has stirred up tension with the religious leaders. They’re not just annoyed; they’re alarmed. And in the middle of this controversy, Jesus begins talking about himself as “the Good Shepherd”—the one who knows his sheep, whose sheep know his voice.

And if you were a Jewish leader standing there, you’d hear more than just a pastoral metaphor. You’d hear echoes of Ezekiel 34—a fiery condemnation of Israel’s false shepherds: the corrupt priests and leaders who fed themselves while neglecting the flock.

Now, here’s where things get sticky. Jesus has healed on the Sabbath. He just insulted the religious leaders. Now we pick up the story in John 10, verse 22:

John 10:22-30

10.22 At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, ‘How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.’ 25Jesus answered, ‘I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; 26but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 27My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 28I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. 29What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. 30The Father and I are one.’

Let’s pause a moment.

It’s winter. The Jews are celebrating Hanukkah—a festival of liberation, a celebration of God’s faithfulness in delivering them from oppression. It’s their Fourth of July. And where is Jesus? He’s walking in Solomon’s Portico—a part of the Temple complex associated with royal authority. This is the place where kings like Solomon once sat in judgment.

John is not just providing the reader a setting for his Story —John is making a statement. You see, Jesus is standing where kings used to stand and make judgements for the people, during a festival that remembers and celebrates God’s deliverance—and he’s being peppered with questions about whether or not he is the Messiah, the Davidic King. The people crowd around him and say, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.”

And Jesus responds, “I have told you—and you do not believe.”

The people are looking for another liberator, like Judas Maccabeus—someone to rally the multitudes and lead them in kicking out their Roman occupiers.  But this is not what Jesus has to offer; he is not offering political freedom from an oppressive regime. He is providing spiritual liberation and a new way of living in the world.  

The people want a warrior-king; Jesus gives them, well, a shepherd.

A shepherd who knows his sheep.

A shepherd who feeds the sheep.

A shepherd who waters the sheep.

A shepherd whose sheep recognize his voice.

A shepherd who leads, protects, and never abandons them. 

Jesus says:

My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.

This past Friday, I hopped into the car and took a ride over to Manchester and Northshire Bookstore. If you remember, Friday was pouring down rain and we were under a flash flood advisory. Creeks and rivers were overflowing; fields were mud bogs. Between Granville and Pawlet along the Mettawee River there is a sheep farm with hundreds of sheep standing around in the mud. What hit me is that they were not standing up on the green high ground; they were wandering around near the overflowing river just begging to be swept away on a log sluice you see at 6 Flags! And then I remembered something.

Sheep are not the sharpest tacks in the box.

They’re not the brightest creatures.

They have poor eyesight.

They tend to blindly follow others in the herd, even into danger.

They’re messy.

They’re smelly.

But—they have excellent hearing.

They learn the voice of their shepherd.

They respond to the tone, the cadence, the rhythm of his or her voice. They trust that voice. And they follow that voice—because that voice leads them to green pastures, still waters, and safety away from the overflowing river.

Friends, that is the kind of shepherd Jesus is.

He does not lead with an iron rod, but with a gentle nudge and a push.

He does not demand loyalty—he invites trust.

He does not lead from behind beating the sheep with a stick – he leads from the front calling them by name.

And once you and I are in his care, nothing—no one—can separate the Shepherd from his lambs.

Beloved, let me invite you to still yourself today and I want you to listen to the Shepherd’s voice today. What are the places in your life where fear has frozen you, where doubt has hampered you, where addiction muddles you, or where doubt is robbing you of your dreams? Are you looking for quick-fix solutions when what you really need is a spiritual reboot? 

Because here’s the Good News: The Good Shepherd is calling.

He says, “I know you. I see you. I hold you in my hand. And nothing—not death, not fear, not failure—can take you away from me.” Friends, remember the words of Isaiah 43:

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
    I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
    I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
    they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
    you will not be burned;
    the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the Lord your God,
    the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.

Beloved, that is the voice of liberation. That is the voice of Easter. That is the voice of the Good Shepherd who intimately knows you by name. In the Name of the One who is, was, and is yet to come. 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.

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When Jesus Meets Us Where We Are, John 21:9-19

Photo by Yassin Chykry on Pexels.com

A sermon delivered on May 4, 2025 by Patrick H. Wrisley, D.Min.

If we zoom out to 40,000 feet and look at John’s gospel s a whole, we can see how John’s begins and ends his story in a beautifully structured way, bookended by a prologue and an epilogue. The prologue opens with the powerful words: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. This sets the tone for the rest of the Gospel, which unpacks who Jesus is and reveals his divine purpose. Today, we turn to the epilogue—the closing scene of John’s story. And here’s the main point I want you to hear: God goes out of God’s way to meet us exactly where we are.

John 21 centers on two key figures: Peter and the Apostle John. Our focus this morning is on Peter, and we encounter him and the other disciples having breakfast with Jesus on the beach. But to fully appreciate today’s passage, it helps to recall Peter’s last words to Jesus before the crucifixion. At the Last Supper, as Jesus explains what’s to come, Peter declares, “Lord, where are you going? Why can’t I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.” Jesus looks at him and replies, “Truly, truly, I say to you, the rooster will not crow until you have denied me three times”[1] Let’s now listen to the Word of the Lord. It’s Sunday morning and the disciples have gone fishing.

John 21:15–19

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. 10 Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” 11 So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. 12 Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. 13 Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. 14 This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead. 

 15When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. 18Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” 19(He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”[i]


Over a recent observance of Lent a few years ago, I watched The Chosen, a TV series about Jesus and the disciples.[3]  I’ve come to love it as it is the most realistic, relatable series on Jesus I’ve seen. You can download the app in the Apple or Google store—it’s actually the first fully crowdfunded TV series. The character portrayals are refreshing. For example, the actor playing Matthew presents him as a socially awkward but brilliant, neurodivergent tax collector who is treated as an outcast. Meanwhile, Peter is portrayed as brash, quick-tempered, always spoiling for a fight, trying to live into Jesus’ call to be “the Rock.” In the series, Peter constantly belittles Matthew for being a traitor to his Jewish people.

Many scholars believe Jesus asks Peter these three difficult questions in our text today to reverse Peter’s earlier three denials. In John 18, the rooster crows—and Peter’s betrayal is complete. Today’s passage, however, is one of reconciliation and restoration[4]

The late New Testament scholar Raymond Brown writes, “The (i.e. Jesus’) choice of Peter is a demonstration of God’s working in the weak things of the world.”[5]  In other words, if there’s hope for Peter, there’s hope for people like you and me.

I love this story because it reminds us that the Great God Almighty—Maker of heaven and earth—comes to meet us in the midst of ordinary life. God takes the initiative. God seeks us out—just as Jesus sought out Peter on the beach. And God still meets us in our own lives—whether we’re in boardrooms, classrooms, examining rooms, or even standing in line at Market 32.

But there’s another layer to this story. God doesn’t just meet us physically where we are; God meets us spiritually where we are, too. You can hear it in the subtle shifts in Jesus’ conversation with Peter.

Three questions. Three commands. On the surface, they sound repetitive—but if we look closely, they’re not. Three times Jesus asks Peter, “Do you love me?” and three times Peter responds with growing emotion, “Lord, you know I love you.” Each time, Jesus responds with a charge: “Feed my lambs,” “Tend my sheep,” and “Feed my sheep.”

Here’s where it gets interesting. English has just one word for love.  The koine Greek of John’s Gospel has several. 

There’s eros (romantic love), phileo (brotherly, sisterly love), and agape (sacrificial, intentional, inconvenient, willed, grace-filled love). In this conversation, two of these appear—agape and phileo.

Some scholars argue that these two terms are used interchangeably.[6] But I lean toward a different interpretation—that John chose his words carefully. John’s Gospel is filled with unique vocabulary and theological symbolism. I believe he intentionally used these specific words for love to show us that God meets us spiritually where we are.

Here’s what I mean:

Jesus asks: “Simon, son of John, do you agape me —sacrificially, intentionally, inconveniently, willfully, grace-filled love me?”


Peter replies: “Yes, Lord, you know I phileo you and love you like a brother.”

Jesus asks again: “Simon, son of John, do you agape me sacrificially, intentionally, inconveniently, willfully, grace-filled love me?

Peter again replies: “Lord, you know I phileo you and love you like a brother!”

Then, a third time, Jesus shifts his question: “Simon, son of John, do you phileo me and love me like a brother?

And Peter answers with emotion: “Lord, you know everything — you know I phileo you — I love and have affection for you as a brother.”

Let’s pause a moment: Jesus is asking Peter if he has the love for him that can expresses itself through sacrifice, inconvenience, intentionality, and grace like Jesus’ love was expressed to Peter on the Cross. Peter’s reply is, “Lord, you know I love you like a brother.” Peter pulls up short and Jesus adapts. For whatever reason, Peter isn’t ready or capable at that moment to profess or expresses agape-filled love to Jesus; at least this time, Peter is honest about it unlike his conversation with Jesus during the Last Supper the night he was betrayed. Peter offers Jesus what he can offer at that time and that is phileo—a heartfelt, brotherly, affectionate love to Jesus. And Jesus accepts it. Jesus receives the love Peter can give. The Peter today is totally different from the braggadocio Peter at the Lord’s Supper. Jesus meets Peter in his broken humbleness which is where Peter should be if he is to be the Rock of the Church.

Friends, that’s good news for us. It tells us that God meets us in the exact place we find ourselves—physically, emotionally, spiritually. God holds high hopes for us as disciples, but God also shows grace in meeting us in our imperfection. This is not a God who stands far off, arms folded, waiting for us to measure up. This is a God who draws near and says, “Follow me. Walk with me the best you are able.”

Beloved, this morning Jesus comes to meet us where we are. Can you hear him ask you, “Do you love me?

And we each must ask ourselves, “How will I answer?”

Do we, like Peter, love Jesus like a brother or do we love Jesus like he loves us — all in? The good news is this: no matter where we are in our faith, the Lord meets us there—and then takes us by the hand and leads us where he wants us to go. In the Name of the One Who is, Was, and Who is Yet to Be. Amen.

© 2025 by 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 Glens Falls, New York and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.


[1] John 13:36-38

[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] To see or learn more about The Chosen, please see https://watch.thechosen.tv.

[4] The New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume IX (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1995, p 806.

[5] Frederick Dale Bruner, John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans’s Publishing, p. 1225.

[6] Ibid.

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Easter Eyes, Luke 24:1-12

An Easter Sermon delivered April 20, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley

Luke 24:1-12 (NRSV)

24But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.6Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” 8Then they remembered his words, 9and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. 11But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. 12But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

This Easter, I find myself paying closer attention to what Easter is really means. Frankly, it’s been a tough, lugubrious Lenten journey with the never-ending winter and all the turmoil that’s churning out of Washington, DC impacting global affairs. 

Beloved, Easter opens the door for the people of God to see the world, each other, and God differently. Easter is God’s holy ophthalmological procedure—one that reshapes our vision, so we see the world anew, our very lives, with clarity, hope, and transformation.

Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women entered the tomb with certain expectations that were completely shattered —and they left the tomb with Easter eyes[1].

Peter ran to the tomb with his own preconceived assumptions and stooped low looking inside, and inspected the linen wrappings—and he, too, began to see with Easter eyes.

But the rest? Locked in a house, clinging to disbelief, they remained blind—spiritually cataracted, unmoved by the story the women brought them. For them, the women’s report was non-sensical; Easter morning was just another Sunday.

Here’s the thing: Jesus’ resurrection, the whole Easter event, must be explored personally by each of us. It cannot simply be observed from a distance – we cannot take the word of others when we each have to go to the tomb, experience it, and see for ourselves. And when we do explore it—when we dare to wrestle with its meaning — God meets us in that place and blesses us with new sight. The Holy Spirit gives us Easter eyes.

So, have you begun to see the world through your Easter eyes?

Does the resurrection change how you see your life, your death, the people around you? Or are you like most of the disciples that first Easter morning who thought the story was a mere idle tale and failed to check it thoroughly for themselves? Friends, the thing is, one typically obtains Easter vision only through a crisis of some sort.

For the women and the disciples, the crisis was the death of Jesus—their Master, their teacher, and their hope.

Most people do not realize it, but this preacher wears two prominent tattoos. On my right shoulder, I wear a Celtic cross and on my left shoulder, I have a tattoo made up of two Chinese characters that together mean “crisis.” One character means risk and the other represents the word for opportunity. That’s what a crisis is — a moment when risk and opportunity meet, and the possibility of a new way forward opens in front of you. A new way of seeing comes into focus. I’ve lived by the mantra that I never waste a good crisis because it opens pathways that move me forward in a new direction. What personal crisis have you been through that has opened the way forward in your life?

The Triduum — the three holy days from Maundy Thursday to Easter morning — was the greatest crisis in cosmic history. There was the risk of political rebellion in Jerusalem and the subsequent violence inflicted upon the people by Roman garrisons. There was the risk, on God’s part, of giving His beloved Son into the hands of sinners. There was the risk of religious leaders losing their grip on power and influence. But Jesus, in his crisis of betrayal and the cross — even amid all the risk — he saw opportunity:

Jesus saw an opportunity to restore those who were broken back to the Source, the Fountain of All Healing.

Jesus saw the opportunity to realign the world’s values and ethics with the principles aligning to the will of God.

Jesus saw the opportunity to live out what the Jewish Law was really proscribing to build just, caring communities.

Jesus saw the opportunity to model the very character of God through self-sacrificial love.

Yes, Jesus’ death and crucifixion was risky move on God’s part. But oh – look at the 

opportunity that literally rose out of it! The empty tomb reorders our reality. It enables us to see — truly see — again. It affirms that nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Fellow Presbyterian pastor, Pendleton Peery, writes:  We tend to see the resurrection as the epilogue to the story of Jesus’ life and death.[2]

He’s right.

We build up to Easter, celebrate the empty tomb, and then… pack it away with the baskets and chocolate. But friends — we’ve got it backwards. Easter is not the epilogue. It’s the prologue. It’s the beginning of a new story! Easter is the beginning of our transformation — not the end of Jesus’ drama.

Former professor, Walter Brueggemann, puts it this way: The new truth of Jesus is that self-giving love is the wave of the future… because love is the very character of God.[3]

You see, Easter places our feet in two worlds:


One foot is placed in the brokenness of this world as it is.

The other foot is grounded in the Kingdom of God as it is becoming.

And now, we must choose where to focus our gaze. Will we stare into the despair and division of the past? Or will we, like the women, bow our faces to the ground, remember what Jesus taught, and rise to proclaim that everything has changed?

You see, once you see the risen Christ, you cannot unsee him. Have you ever had an experience when you saw something and there is no way to unsee it?

I remember watching my daughters — Lauren and Kate —being born. I cannot unsee the strength on my wife, Kelly’s, face. I cannot forget the moment the doctor held up each one of my girls for the first time. That moment changed me. It changed how I saw everything. Their births were moments when everything in my life changed and evolved – my priorities, my values, and the depth of love I never knew one could feel.

That’s what the women at the tomb experienced.


That’s what Peter experienced when he peered inside.

The women and Peter may not have fully understood it all yet — but they knew: nothing would ever be the same. They were jolted into a new way of seeing and experiencing their world. They were given Easter eyes.

Does the empty tomb still jolt us today? In the original language of the New Testament, the 

words for “tomb” and for “remember” share the same common root word. A tomb is a place of remembering. It’s a place one goes to reflect upon former days of people we lost.

But on Easter morning, the angels said, “Remember what he told you… He is not here!”  For us, the tomb no longer holds memory. It points forward to hopeful possibility we have not looked for before and urges us forward.

Jesus is not among the dead.

He is among the living — and he is calling us to join him there.

With Easter eyes, we see others as bearers of God’s image.

With Easter eyes, we see injustice and do something about it.

With Easter eyes, we see hope—radical, resurrection hope—alive in the world again.

With Easter eys, we wake each day not with fear, but with faith.

We live as a people who, as one scholar said, “Refuse to participate in the anxiety of the world—because we know the One who clothes the lilies and feeds the birds will care for us, too.”[4] Beloved, Easter is our day to remember that everything has changed. Easter means we don’t doomscroll through the news and think the worst; with Easter eyes, we see opportunity on where Christ wants to get us working.  

So, this morning, as you walk out of these church doors, step outside with new vision, new hope, new joy. And may the Spirit give you my beloved… Easter Eyes. Amen.

© 2025 by 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 Glens Falls, New York and shall not be altered, re-purposed, published or preached without permission. All rights reserved.


[1] I am indebted to colleague and friend, Dr. Robbie Carol, for this phrase ‘Easter Eyes’. It was in the title of a sermon he preached in 1987 at the Decatur First Presbyterian Church in Atlanta.

[2] Feasting on the Gospels–Luke, Volume 2: A Feasting on the Word Commentary by Cynthia A. Jarvis, E. Elizabeth Johnson, Presbyterian Publishing Corporation, 948 (https://a.co/2jlyxm3).

[3] Brueggemann, Walter. A Way other than Our Own (p. 86). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

[4] Ibid, https://a.co/gpM7aqc.

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Two Parades, One Choice; Luke 19:28-40

A sermon delivered on Sunday, April 13, 2025 by the Rev. Dr. Patrick H. Wrisley.

When a single preacher says something from the pulpit, people will say, “He or she is only preaching.”  When two preachers who don’t know one another say the same thing on the same day, well it then becomes prophetic. This is what happened to me today.  

I wrote today’s sermon some six months after the confrontation in Charlottesville between Christian Nationalists and Civil Rights protesters back in 2019. I was reworking it for today’s message as similar issues are going on in our country. Like I do every Sunday, I finish reviewing my message and read the headlines from several sources to see what is happening in the world. Well, I was scanning the New York Times and saw an op-ed piece by Episcopal priest, Andrew Thayer, whose premise in his article was exactly what I had written for today some three years ago. I encourage you to read it if you haven’t. The deal is this: God is being prophetic.[1]

Sometimes, people need a wake-up call to jar them out of complacency. We take things for granted. Our country has done that with our civil liberties and the Church has done so with the Christian faith. We’ve grown so familiar with the Triumphal Entry that we often forget how disruptive, how controversial, and how dangerous it really was. It wasn’t a peaceful parade. It was a moment when two kingdoms—two visions for how the world should be clashed and confronted each other. On one side: the empire of Rome and its local collaborators, built on control, fear, and inequality. On the other: a man riding a borrowed donkey, proclaiming a different kind of kingdom—a kingdom of grace, inclusion, justice and truth.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, he wasn’t just visiting, he was claiming the city s his own. His very presence was a challenge to the powers that be. And his first act? Marching into the Temple to flip over the tables of a faith gone off the tracks.

 Do we truly understand Palm Sunday? Do we see what was at stake then—and what’s still at stake now?

Let us listen now to the Word of the Lord, from Luke’s Gospel:

Luke 19:28-40 (NRSV)

 28After he had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.29When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, 30saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. 31If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’” 32So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. 33As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?”34They said, “The Lord needs it.” 35Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. 36As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. 37As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, 38saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” 39Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” 40He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

Let’s take a closer look at what Jerusalem was really like when Jesus entered the Holy City.

Just like today, people were divided—by religion, by politics, by wealth, by tribe. There were conservative and progressive factions within Judaism. There were nationalists like the Zealots, there were those who tried to stay quiet and just keep the peace, and then there was the vast number of poor folks who comprised the majority of people. There was Rome—an occupying force—and also the Jewish religious elite who had made their own compromises to survive within it.

There was ethnic division, religious discrimination, and class-based exclusion. There were backroom deals and political power brokers making decisions that impacted everyday people who had little say in their own futures.

In short: it was a world not so different from ours.

And it’s into that world Jesus comes riding—not with a war horse, but on a donkey. Not with armor and soldiers, but with humility and truth surrounded by throngs of ordinary folk. His entrance is not just about fulfilling prophecy—it’s about declaring a whole new way of being human, a whole new way of living in community. His entry is a protest. It’s a public witness. It’s an act of holy defiance.

We tend to sentimentalize Palm Sunday, don’t we? We picture children waving palm branches, singing “Hosanna,” and smiling. But the real Palm Sunday was electric. Think Charlottesville. It was dangerous. Jesus was making a statement—and everyone knew it.

He was physically declaring, “There is another way.”

The first thing we need to remember about Palm Sunday is this: Jesus’ descent from the Mount of Olives was every bit a political act. Not partisan politics, but something even more radical—he was making a public, prophetic statement that challenged the foundations of the existing political and religious order.

It looked like a parade, but it was really more like a protest march. Think Selma. Think Gandhi walking to the sea. Think Dr. King in Memphis. This wasn’t about celebrating past victories—it was about confronting present injustice and revealing a new kind of kingdom.

And Jesus wasn’t the only one entering Jerusalem that week.

As biblical scholar H. Stephen Shoemaker notes, there were likely two processions into Jerusalem that day. From the west came Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, riding in with the full spectacle of imperial might—war horses, chariots, and armed soldiers. Rome wanted to make a statement, especially during Passover, when Jewish memory of liberation from Egypt was at its highest. Pilate came to remind the people who was really in charge.[2]

But from the east came another procession—humble, almost absurd in contrast. Jesus, riding a borrowed colt. No weapons. No armor. Just cloaks and palm branches, and the cries of ordinary people daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, God’s promised kingdom was finally breaking in.

It was a moment of contrast. Two empires. Two kingdoms. Two processions. Two definitions of power.

Pilate embodied Pax Romana —the peace of Rome, peace maintained by violence, hierarchy, and fear.

Jesus embodied Pax Christi — the peace of Christ, peace grounded in justice, compassion, and the dignity of every person.[3]

Shoemaker puts it like this: Our challenge is to show how the gospel of the kingdom has political implications but transcends our everyday political loyalties. In other words, he says, “If we take the gospel seriously, then living it out will reshape the world around us.”

Today, we face a similar divide in our own nation. The language might be different, the setting more modern, but the battle lines are familiar: Pax Republican or Pax Democrat. So often, it’s our politics that shape our faith, rather than our faith shaping our politics.

But Palm Sunday calls us to something deeper. It calls us into a third way— Pax Christi. Not the peace derived from fear, power and control, but the peace of radical grace, costly love, and unshakable justice.

Whatever your party, your policy preferences, or your voting history—none of it matters if your life and mine aren’t first shaped by the ethics of Jesus. If our faith doesn’t come before our flag, then we’ve missed the point of the gospel.

The early Church understood this. In the first few centuries after Christ, it wasn’t Roman political movements that changed the world; rather, it was groups of small communities of believers, living differently from everyone else around them. They shared what they had. They cared for the sick and the poor. They welcomed the outcast. They turned the empire’s values upside down simply by embodying the way of Jesus. During this time, the Roman Empire was in decline; the Christian Empire was in the ascension.

We’ve seen it in our own lifetimes, too. During the Civil Rights Movement, it was the Church—Black churches in particular—that became the moral engine of change. During the Cold War, it was the underground Church in Eastern Europe that overturned communism – that sparked what became known as the “Velvet Revolution” – not through violence, but through faithful resistance and bold witness.

Jesus’ descent into Jerusalem wasn’t just the beginning of Holy Week. It was the launch of a movement—one that would change the course of human history.

So, let me ask us today: Are we still part of that movement?  Or have we become too comfortable, complacent, and complicit with the status quo? Have we given up thinking that our voice, our actions will or can make a difference?

Are our choices shaped more by partisan, economic, or nationalistic loyalties or by the radical teachings of Jesus? Beloved, Palm Sunday is a day of Jesus is calling for fellow revolutionaries.

If we want to know what real revolution looks like, we don’t have to look far. Just listen:

  • Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  
    • Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.  
    • Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.  
    • Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.  
    • Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.  
    • Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.  
    • Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.  
    • Blessed are those who are persecuted for doing what is right, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.[4]

This is the way of Jesus. This is what the revolution looks like. So, Church—are you ready? Are you ready to be part of the movement again?  Are we ready to lay down the flags of empire and pick up the cross of Christ?  Are we ready to reject the din of culture and choose the path of the donkey-riding king? Lest we forget, there are two groups at a parade. There are those in the parade and those watching it. Palm Sunday is Jesus’ invitation to fall in behind him and join the parade of justice and grace he is leading. 

© 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]  Sunday Was a Protest, Not a Procession, by the Rev. Andrew Thayer, The New York Times, Sunday, April 13, 2025, 6:00 a.m. ET. See https://www.nytimes.com/2025/04/13/opinion/palm-sunday-protest.html

[2] Bartlett, David L.; Barbara Brown Bartlett (2009-10-12). Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2: Lent through Eastertide (Kindle Locations 5617-5622). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

[3] Bartlett, David L.; Barbara Brown Bartlett (2009-10-12). Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2: Lent through Eastertide (Kindle Locations 5631-5632). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

[4] Matthew 5:1-11, the Beatitudes. 

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