Arapaho UMC

What if sin isn't about pristine holiness but rather preventing harm—to ourselves, others, and the world around us? This reimagined understanding sees sin the way John Wesley did: as harm, or, in the words of Cornelius Plantinga as a "culpable disturbance of shalom," a disruption of the peace, flourishing, and wholeness God desires for all creation. Instead of lists of dos and don'ts, sin becomes a deeper call to recognize the harm we cause and to join God's work of healing and restoration. Jesus, far from reinforcing shame or exclusion, modeled radical love and inclusion, breaking down barriers and inviting everyone into belonging and flourishing. In this view, repentance (teshuvah) is not about guilt trips or fear but about returning to who we are meant to be—beloved, creative, and whole. By embracing this call to cultivate shalom, we discover a faith that is not burdensome but liberating, empowering us to heal the brokenness in our lives and the world. In the end, the story isn't about judgment—it's about returning home to love and flourishing.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.”What if belief was less about agreeing to a rigid set of ideas and more about trusting deeply, even loving deeply? This reflection challenges the narrow notion of belief as mere intellectual assent and reclaims it as an invitation to a dynamic, relational journey with God. In ancient and premodern contexts, “believe” carried the sense of trust and affection—beloving rather than merely agreeing. Jesus' call wasn't to memorize a creed but to follow—a path of love, questions, and growth. Doubt isn't the enemy of faith but a catalyst for deeper exploration, a quest that leads to trust and transformation. Belief begins and ends with love: loving God, loving our neighbor, and loving ourselves as reflections of God's care. In a world longing for authenticity and connection, this journey of “believing as beloving” offers a way to rediscover faith as life-giving, inclusive, and endlessly hopeful.

Easter reminds us that resurrection isn't just a one-time event but the ongoing rhythm of how God works in the world. Just as spring brings new life from seemingly barren soil, God's love transforms us, rolling away the stones that block hope. In the story of Mary Magdalene, we meet someone who didn't “get” Easter yet showed up anyway, embodying faith in her simple presence. Mary, once seen and liberated by Jesus, found herself at the tomb in grief, only to hear her name spoken in love by the risen Christ. That moment transformed her—not just as a witness of resurrection but as its first preacher, sent to share the good news of God's new-making work. Like Mary, we are invited to show up—in moments of despair, injustice, or daily life—and trust that resurrection is breaking forth, even when unseen. From this rhythm of showing up, God plants seeds of love, hope, and justice that grow into life renewed. May we bear this rhythm of Easter into our own lives, knowing that what makes it Easter is what God does next.

In a world driven by fear, self-preservation, and grasping for power, the Jesus of Palm Sunday invites us into a radically different rhythm: the way of the servant. Through a story in Mark 10, we see the disciples wrestling with fear and ambition, seeking their own greatness. But Jesus redefines greatness—not in what we accumulate or achieve, but in what we give and how we serve. True servanthood isn't about occasional acts of kindness; it's a way of life rooted in love, humility, and openness to others.This kind of service goes beyond niceness—it's sacrificial, justice-seeking, and life-giving, reflecting the boundless love of God. It's a countercultural way of living that challenges the structures of power and privilege around us, freeing us to live for something greater than ourselves. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. put it, “Everybody can be great, because everybody can serve.” When we choose to serve, we embody God's love and become part of God's transforming work in the world. A life connected to this rhythm is not just good enough—it's great, full of purpose, joy, and reconciliation. This is the way of love, the way of life Jesus calls us to follow.

The rhythm of worship invites us into a transformative encounter with awe—the experience of being in the presence of something vast, transcendent, and beyond ourselves. Drawing from stories like a veteran finding healing in nature and Psalm 95's call to "worship and bow down," we learn that awe restores perspective, connects us to creation, and reminds us of our sacred place within God's grandeur. Worship isn't about feeling small but recognizing we are part of something incomprehensibly big and meaningful.The Psalms guide us to respond reflexively to awe, offering humility and gratitude as we engage with God's glory in creation, art, community, and even our own lives. Whether gazing at stars, walking among trees, or encountering love in each other, worship invites us to pause, say thanks, and glimpse the divine in all things. As Mary Oliver and the psalmist remind us, we are crowned with glory and called to live with light, reflecting God's presence wherever we go. Worship, then, becomes not just a practice but a rhythm that renews us and reveals God's love—here, everywhere, and in each other.

Prayer is more than speaking to God—it is coming home to a place where we are seen, known, and loved. In this message, we explore how prayer connects us with the source of life, inviting us into deep communion with the Divine. Jesus' teachings on prayer encourage us to approach it with intentionality, authenticity, and trust, reminding us that God is not impressed by lengthy words but moved by the openness of our hearts. Prayer isn't about perfect technique; it's a learning process, a rhythm we grow into, where our deepest desires and hopes can be expressed—even without words. In this space, we discover a God who sees us in secret, knows us completely, and loves us unconditionally. As we lean into this love, prayer transforms us, reshaping our lives in alignment with God's vision for justice, mercy, and love. This rhythm of prayer invites us to be intentional, to be seen, to be known, and ultimately, to be changed. Through prayer, we come home to the heart of God, finding peace and purpose in the transformative embrace of divine love.

Our internal monologue can sometimes be a one-sided conversation. Not to mention distractions that can leave us disconnected from deeper voices—especially God's. The spiritual practice of study — listening for God through Scripture and other sources of wisdom — invites us into a two-way conversation, revealing God's love, wisdom, and guidance. Alongside Scripture, God also speaks through creation, science, relationships, and even unexpected moments, inviting us to see truth and beauty everywhere. We acknowledge the challenges of studying Scripture—misuse, confusion, and harm caused by misinterpretation—but emphasize that God's voice always leads to love, as revealed in Jesus. Using tools like the Wesleyan Quadrilateral (Scripture, Tradition, Reason, Experience), we approach these sources thoughtfully, testing what we hear through the lens of Christ's message. Finally, we explore Lectio Divina, a practice of prayerfully reading Scripture, alongside the discipline of open-hearted curiosity in all learning. By engaging with wisdom in all the ways we find it, we cultivate a rhythm of listening to God's voice, transforming our minds and equipping us to live with deeper purpose, compassion, and grace.

The rhythm of modern life often feels relentless, sweeping us along without intention. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a deeper rhythm—a sacred whisper inviting us to live mindfully, abundantly, and connected to God's love and grace. Lent offers us a season to pause, reflect, and embrace this deeper rhythm through ancient spiritual practices like meditation. Rooted in Scripture and the life of Jesus, meditation invites us to quiet the noise, listen for God's voice, and live in response. Whether meditating on Scripture, contemplating creation, or practicing re-collection, these rhythms are tools for centering ourselves in God's love, enabling us to live more deeply and purposefully. It's not about doing more but aligning with the life-giving rhythm that helps us flourish. This Lent, may we hear the deep calling to deep and respond with open hearts and lives.

In the story of the ten lepers, only one returned to give thanks, and Jesus told him, “Your faith has made you well.” This reminds us that gratitude is more than a response to blessing; it is a path to deeper healing and restoration. Gratitude shifts our focus from scarcity to abundance, opening our hearts to God's blessings and calling us to live joyfully and generously.Generosity is the natural outflow of a grateful heart. When we give—our time, resources, and presence—we join in God's work of restoration, bringing healing and hope to others. Together, as a church, we reflect God's abundant love by creating spaces where the broken are restored and the lonely find belonging.The one who returned to say thank you experienced more than physical healing; he was restored to his community and his purpose. In the same way, when we embrace gratitude and generosity, we step into God's abundant life—not just for ourselves, but for the sake of the world. Through gratitude, we are healed. Through generosity, we become healers.

Through the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000, we are reminded that God's work often happens through human hands—through us. When Jesus tells the disciples, “You give them something to eat,” he challenges us to move from a perspective of scarcity to one of abundance. Gratitude teaches us to see what we have as enough, and generosity turns enough into a feast that nourishes far beyond what we can imagine. This story shows us that even our smallest offerings, like loaves and fishes, can be multiplied into abundance when joined with God's love. By offering what we have—our gifts, time, and resources—we partner with God in creating the beloved community marked by love, justice, and flourishing for all. As a church, our collective generosity transforms our gratitude into action, allowing us to serve, care, and build projects that change lives. Together, our open hands and open hearts let God's multiplying power work through us, transforming scarcity into abundance and abundance into a feast.

Our purpose is not only about what lies ahead but about living meaningfully in the present. Jesus calls us the light of the world, inviting us to live as places where God's love meets the needs of humanity. As individuals and as a church, we are called to embody justice, joy, and flourishing right now. Practicing the discipline of generosity is central to this calling. Generosity helps us open our hands and hearts, allowing God to use who we are and what we have to bring light to the world.When we give—our time, our resources, our presence—we reflect God's love, cultivate relationships, and create spaces where others can thrive. Generosity shapes us to see others with compassion and helps us act as a community that embodies love and justice. It pushes back the darkness, protects the vulnerable, and offers hope to those around us. Together, through our shared generosity, we illuminate the world, revealing God's presence and inviting others into the work of goodness and grace. By practicing generosity, we live into our purpose as individuals and as a church, becoming a collective light that transforms our world.

Generosity is a transformative force that helps us live into God's calling for our lives. Zacchaeus' encounter with Jesus calls us to open our hearts and hands, responding with bold generosity to repair and reconcile the brokenness in our communities. As individuals, generosity connects us to God's vision, helping us live beyond ourselves and actively love our neighbors as we love ourselves. As a church, generosity allows us to embody love and justice in action, building spaces and opportunities that uplift the vulnerable and create a glimpse of the abundant future God calls us to. When we listen to the voices of the marginalized and act with open-hearted generosity, we participate in the work of liberation—not just for others, but for ourselves. Through our collective efforts, salvation becomes a present reality, bringing life and reconciliation to the world. This is an invitation to take the next step in our journey of generosity, transforming our lives and communities in profound and sacred ways.

Our lives are filled with choices, big and small, and each step we take shapes who we are becoming. Beginning a new year reminds us not just of milestones but of the shared journey we are all on, navigating uncertainty and change. In those moments when the path ahead feels overwhelming, we can refresh our focus by asking a simple question: what is the next right thing in love? Jesus modeled this wisdom in Scripture, guiding people to take small, loving steps forward rather than trying to leap ahead.Doing the next right thing means loving God, our neighbors, and ourselves through acts of justice, kindness, and care. It's less about grand plans and more about showing up with courage and grace for the moment we're in. Whether it's a meal, a phone call, or a hard decision, each step reveals more about who we are, what we value, and how we contribute to the flourishing of others. Together, we can trust that God walks with us, delighting in our steps, catching us when we stumble, and shaping our journey for good. So, we keep going—one faithful, loving choice at a time—knowing that even small steps lead to great transformation. Let's continue this journey together, refreshed and guided by love.

In this sermon, we reflect on Jesus' words: “Let your yes be yes and your no be no,” and explore how to refresh the power of two life-shaping words: Yes and No. Every decision we make sets a direction, and we are invited to refresh our “yes” to align with God's sacred purpose for our lives, letting our “yes” reflect what truly matters—the unique roles and responsibilities entrusted to us. Refreshing our yes often requires saying no, not as rejection but as a necessary protection for what is most important. By paying attention to where we are and who we're called to love and serve, we can refresh our direction and take steps toward a life centered in God's love, justice, and peace. This sacred refreshment of our yes calls for clarity, courage, and faith as we journey through challenges toward the green pastures and still waters God promises. Together, may we refresh our steps and find peace in letting our yes be our best yes.

As we seek to "Refresh Our Vision," we are called as a community to renew our focus on the sacred work of justice, love, and unity inspired by leaders like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. We acknowledge the struggles of our time, marked by fear, division, and oppression, but lift up God's higher vision of a beloved community rooted in dignity, equality, and love for all people. Refreshing this vision requires courage, compassion, and creativity to resist hate and work toward justice. We are called to align our efforts with the ethic of love and the transformative power of faith. Practical steps, such as engaging in anti-racism work and choosing love in the face of hate, give us ways to embody this vision in daily life. The beginning of the year opportunity to remember our baptism invites us to renewed commitment to the sacred struggle, reminding us that God's grace sustains and empowers the work of creating a more just and loving world as we “accept the freedom and power God gives us to resist evil injustice and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.

Jesus invites us to embrace refreshment—a renewal of our souls as we step into the new year. We reflect on the challenges we've faced, the strength we've discovered, and the hope that sustains us, choosing to celebrate this moment with tenacious joy and gratitude. Jesus' invitation: “come to me, all you who are weary” reminds us to seek rest and restoration not as a luxury but as a sacred necessity, reconnecting with the divine rhythm of life. Refreshment begins with simple practices: rest that honors our body and soul and actions that fit who we authentically are.We are called to slow down, to savor life rather than rush through it, trusting that God's way is not a burden but a gentle, well-fitting invitation tailored to our unique selves. By finding one practice—a prayer, a song, or an act of kindness—that refreshes us, we align with the divine love that sustains and empowers us. Together, with refreshed souls, we can love and serve in ways that refresh the world, carrying forward the light of grace, connection, and hope into all we do.

The story of the Magi (Matthew 2:1-12) invites us to refresh our calling by embarking on a journey that challenges our assumptions, transforms our lives, and calls us to resist the paths of empire. Epiphany reminds us that God's revelation in Jesus is for all people, drawing us to follow the light of love, peace, and justice. The Magi's willingness to leave their comfort zones inspires us to seek God in unexpected places with courage and curiosity. Their defiance of Herod by “going back by a different way” shows the power of encountering Christ to shift our allegiance from systems of oppression to the way of peace. After encountering God's love in Jesus, we too are called to take a new path, living with compassion and standing up for what is right. May we follow the Magi's example, refreshing our calling to be bearers of God's love and justice in our world.

Thanksgiving can be a hard time around the table. This sermon reflects on the challenges of relationships during the holiday season, drawing from Jesus' teachings to emphasize the importance of reconciliation, love, and peace. It encourages us to focus on nurturing healthy, authentic connections rather than striving to be "right," and to approach difficult conversations with kindness, clear boundaries, and a belief that small steps toward peace matter. Peacemaking is portrayed as an active, ongoing journey, with the hope that, through God's guidance, we can make meaningful progress in our relationships.

Bridges are essential for connection, both in our world and in our relationships. Just like a physical bridge that links two sides of a town, relational bridges link us across divides. Right now, many of our bridges are broken—whether it's in society or our personal lives—and that creates distance and disconnection. Jesus challenges us to build these bridges, even when it's uncomfortable. His love invites us to move beyond isolation, reaching out to others with compassion and hope. In loving our neighbors, we don't stay in our comfort zones but instead, we follow Jesus' example of stepping into hard places, offering peace and reconciliation where there's hostility. Paul's transformation—from a persecutor to a follower of Christ—is a powerful story of how love builds bridges. After being welcomed by the Christian community, Paul embraced a new perspective, seeing all people as children of God, worthy of reconciliation. This "ministry of reconciliation" isn't about pretending everything is fine, but about exchanging division for connection, hostility for peace. Reconciliation is a process—it's not about ignoring wrongs but addressing them honestly, repairing what's broken, and working toward peace. Sometimes, though, love requires boundaries, and not every relationship should be restored. Love never asks us to return to harm. The heart of reconciliation is finding those sacred places of connection where bridges can be built. Even small steps, like sharing a conversation with a neighbor, can lead to surprising transformations. God's love travels across even the smallest bridges we build.

We are all shaped by the lives of others—those who pour their wisdom, love, and faith into us. These people are our saints, not because they were perfect, but because they were used by God to nurture and guide us, leaving a lasting impact. In the Bible, the word "saint" comes from hagias, which means "set apart" or "used by God." It's a word for those whose lives continue to reverberate in us, like the faith of Timothy's grandmother and mother, which Paul recognized as alive within him. This faith, love, and wisdom passed down through generations builds the foundation on which we stand. We remember and honor our saints, those who have gone before us, especially on All Saints Day. Like a tapestry, their lives are woven with ours, binding us together in a deep, spiritual connection. Their influence is alive in us, and in many ways, they are still present, even as they rest in God's love. But saints are not just figures in stained glass windows; they are everyday people who have loved, supported, and shaped us. They show us how to live, how to give of ourselves, and how to pass on the good that has been given to us. We honor them not only with gratitude but with responsibility —to live in such a way that we carry forward their legacy of love and faith.

In this message, we learn how Jesus calls us to shift our focus from the narrow concerns of everyday life and anxiety to the broader horizon of God's kingdom, which is rooted in justice, peace, and joy. Using the imagery of the lilies, Jesus teaches us to trust in God's abundant love, freeing us from the constant grip of worry. When we seek God first, life opens up in unexpected and life-giving ways. Jesus uses the analogy of the lilies to remind us that life's beauty comes not from toiling anxiously but from trusting God's care, just as flowers grow without worry. We are called to open our hands and hearts to life beyond our narrow concerns, finding freedom in God's love and purpose. Big idea: When we seek God first, life opens up in surprising, abundant ways, and God's expansive love transforms our circumstances, freeing us from the grip of worry.

What about our own experience? We all have wisdom of our own and our own "theology" — that is, thoughts about God. That wisdom is valid. And our own experiences can help us test whether something works (is life-giving) or whether we should think again.In fact, the Methodist tradition says that this is *our theological task* — our part to play is to bring our own perspective to help contribute to the faith life of the community, participating in a process that is critical and constructive, individual and communal, contextual and incarnational and ultimately practical.

What about other things we might learn? As the early followers of Jesus taught: "All truth is God's truth". That means that if something is true, then it is true — and our assumptions must adapt. This may seem simple, but it has been a place of wrestling throughout history. Partly because we are always learning more. We need to listen to science and social science and the best of human knowledge. We need to learn from the rich community of thinkers throughout history. And we need to hold our assumptions with open hands, ready to learn and unlearn as we journey throughout our life. Richard Niebuhr's idea of "absolute relativism" has encouraged me to stay flexible even while we fix our eyes on love.

"What is God's plan for my life?" No question brought more anxiety to my younger life. What if I miss it? What if I don't like it? What if? We often quote Jeremiah's famous verse about God's big plans, without noticing that it is a part of this message of digging in right where we are. Plans are not about some far off future, but helping pull near the future that God dreams. When we seek the shalom of the place we are right now, we find that God has big plans for our shalom as well — now and forever.

Another way Jeremiah invites us to seek the holistic universal flourishing of our community is to "pray for the city". I don't know about you, but as a person seek to be a good neighbor in a pluralistic world, the idea of praying for someone can give me the heebeegeebees. But there are two liberating secrets in this idea: 1) that our faith is to be lived for the flourishing of our neighbor; and 2) the secret found in the rest of Jeremiah's phrase: "pray to the Lord on *their* *behalf*". We do not pray for our neighbors on behalf of what we want, but on behalf of what they want — their hopes and dreams and gifts. We're called to first listen to our neighbors so that we can know “their behalf”, and then let our hearts be moved deeply for our city, and for that to call us to reach out to a power greater than us on behalf of our neighbors and neighborhoods. Let our hearts be moved to love. Let our souls be stirred to prayer. And let our hands be called to action.

God's invitation to us is to be "for our city"—to seek the holistic flourishing of our neighbors and communities. Jeremiah explains that that looks like planting gardens and building houses — to dig in and make a home. What does this look like in action? Jesus once shared a parable that helps unpack this idea of digging in—that the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed was sowed and grew to become a tree offering shelter and life to the world. What kind of seeds are we sowing in our cities? Let's sow seeds that give shelter, support our neighbors, and offer radical love to our world.

We don't always know exactly what we are supposed to do — where we are, right now. We look ahead to future dreams or back to more certain times. But what about here and now? The book of Jeremiah describes a critical time in the history of the people of Israel, when they found themselves asking the very same questions. Israel had been conquered by Babylon and many of the people had been carried off to live in exile in a new country and culture and community. Some wanted to go back, some just wanted to blend in, but God had a purpose for them then and there, just as God has for us here and now.Through the prophet Jeremiah, direction came: Seek the shalom (that is, “universal holistic flourishing”) of the place where you are, “for in its shalom, you will find your own shalom.”Whether we are starting a new school grade, welcoming a new group of students, or beginning our 50th year in the same neighborhood, this continues to be good direction and God's vision for each of us, wherever we might find ourselves on life journey. Dig in to our community, and seek it flourishing in all the ways we can, and we will find ourselves flourishing as well.

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Jesus brings the outsider in and calls them "friend"

The Gospel of Luke introduces us to two new characters at nearly the end of the story, which is an odd choice, to be sure. Weirder still is the lengthy encounter they have with a stranger on their road back home, and how this stranger changes the course of their journey and ours. We might think we know how the story ends, but resurrection might just surprise us once again.

After the crucifixion and burial of Jesus, many of the disciples got back to their old lives, which for some meant fishing. The disciples in John are shown fishing and pulling up empty nets, until they encounter a “stranger” and… well, the story changes. Let's talk about what it feels like to “fish with empty nets,” and how resurrection can invite us into a posture of abundance.