Podcasts about rogation sunday

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Rogation Sunday (Easter 2025)

The Rev. Michael McGhee preached on Revelation 21:1–4, 22–27; 22:1–5 on Rogation Sunday on May 25th. 

Scripture Readings: Joel 2:21-27;Psalm 67; Revelation 21:1-4, 22-22:5; John 14:21-29

Sermon delivered by Bp. Stephen Scarlett on Sunday, May 25, 2025.View Transcript:https://bit.ly/Sermon_2025-05-25_The-Fifth-Sunday-after-Easter_Bp-Scarlett

As we celebrate Rogation Sunday, Father Travis teaches us about the importance of asking for God's blessing.

Texts: John 14 & James 1

Scripture: Acts 14:8-18; Ps 67; Rev 21:1-4,22-22:5; John 14:21-29 | By: Kevin Whitfield | Topic: Our Worship is Our Most Important Work Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Mother Andrea preaches on Rogation Sunday.

The Order for Morning Prayer, Rogation Sunday, The Fifth Sunday after Easter by Fr. Damien

The Order for Evening Prayer, Rogation Sunday, The Fifth Sunday after Easter by Fr. Damien

A Sermon for Rogation Sunday St. James 1:22-27 by William Klock I was out on my gravel bike this week, riding the trails through Merville and Black Creek and down to Williams Beach.  At one point I had to stop to take a picture.  I was riding down this narrow corridor with walls of little yellow flowers on both sides.  It was really beautiful.  But just a short way down the trail I ran into a big group of people cutting it all down.  I had a stop and wait for a minute so they could get their cart off the trail.  One of the women asked how my ride was going.  I said I was having a great ride.  It was a beautiful day.  I pulled out my phone and showed her the picture I'd just taken of the trail.  I thought it was beautiful, but she scowled at it.  “We'll get there tomorrow morning,” she said, “Ugh!  Vile stuff, but we'll get it!”  (And, sure enough, when I rode through again a few days later the walls of scotch broom were gone.)  I was kind of disappointed, but I'm sure the “broom busters” were happy, because they really, really, really hate scotch broom. The funny thing is—I notice this most places they cut it down—is that when they're done, there's usually still scotch broom as far as the eye can see—on the other side of a fence.  It's like that where I was riding my bike.  They cut it all down on Regional District property, but they can't touch the private property on the other side of the fence.  And later in the summer, I'll be riding my bike down the trail and in the heat of the day I'll hear the seed pods popping open and scattering their seed on both sides of the fence.  And next year the scotch broom will be back.  To me the whole thing seems pointless, but these folks envision an island scoured clean of scotch broom and so they come back year after year after year to cut it down wherever they can get to it.  Even though that island scoured clean of broom will never be. As I rode later in the week and saw the trailsides devoid of broom, but acres and acres of yellow flowers on the other side of the fence it got me thinking about the theme of our Eastertide scripture readings.  (I know, you think I'm just out there riding my bike, but I'm out there praying and meditating on scripture and putting sermons together in my head.)  We began Easter with the theme of hope.  Jesus' resurrection meant something to the disciples.  It wasn't just a miracle.  It was the evidence, the proof that God's new creation had begun and that Jesus is king.  That's what lit a fire under them to go out and announce the good news to Jerusalem, to Judaea, Samaria, and to the whole world—even though it eventually got them all killed.  This theme of resurrection life carries all through Eastertide and we meet it here again today.  We could run with either the Gospel or the Epistle, but I'm going to go with the Epistle—this lesson from St. James that begins with those familiar words: Be people who do the word, not merely people who heart it and deceive themselves.   Brothers and Sisters, the good news of Jesus' resurrection from the dead ought to give us a vision of the world set to rights—of sin and death defeated and cast forever into hell, of no more trials and no more tears, and of new life with nothing to separate us from the presence of God.  When we look at the mess and the darkness around us that hope might sound crazy—like an island scoured clean of scotch broom—but the fact is that God has done the hard part already.  He gave his son to take up our flesh, to die, and to rise to life again.  The rest is just his people—us—going out to preach and to do that good news and to let his word and his Spirit spread and grow his new creation.  So don't just hear the word.  Go out and do it.  Don't just long for God's kingdom, go out and be it. It also helps to understand that for the Jews, speaking Hebrew, to hear and to obey were inextricably linked together.  The Hebrew word for “hear” is a call not just to the ears, but to the heart, and to hear is to respond, whether it's for the Lord to hear the cries of his people in their bondage and to come to their deliverance or for Israel to hear the word of the Lord and to take it to heart and do it.  When Moses and the Prophets announced, “Hear the word of the Lord!” it wasn't just a call to listen, but to obey—to do.  We have a word in English that we don't use anymore that is very similar: hearken.  Don't just hear, but take note, take what you hear to heart.  Do it. Brothers and Sisters, words are important—and the word of God especially so.  As I've said so many times, God's word brings life.  By his word he created life in the beginning and when we were mired in sin and in slavery to death, he heard our cries for deliverance and sent his word again, this time in human flesh, in Jesus, to die and to rise from death so that we might know life again.  This is at the core of Easter and so, these last two Sundays of Eastertide we read from St. James' epistle about the power of God's word to bring us life and to transform us.  But first he contrasts God's word with our words, which are so often spoken in anger or spoken, not to heal or to give life, but to hurt.  This is in the first chapter of James.  Our Epistle begins at verse 22, but I want to back up a bit into last week's Epistle, to verse 19.  Here's what James writes: So, my dear brothers [and sisters], get this straight.  Every person should be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.  Human anger, you see, doesn't produce God's justice.  (James 1:19-20) “Be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.”  How many times would that have saved you a world of hurt if you'd only heard and obeyed? Now, there can be a place for anger.  So often we get angry because the world isn't what we know it should be.  Sometimes—a lot of the time—that's just our pride being hurt or our selfishness being tweaked, but when we see real wrongs being done, when we see real injustice in the world, there is a place for just and righteous anger.  Godly anger over sin and injustice is often precisely what we need to get us up and out into the world to help the needy or the hurt, to stand up for the defenceless, or otherwise to speak out and to work for wrongs to be righted.  St. Paul writes in Ephesians 4:26, “Be angry” but then there's an “and”, a big “and”: “and do not sin.”  Deal with what needs dealing with and “do not let the sun go down on your anger,” because that “gives opportunity to the devil”.  If you're angry because your pride has been hurt, put a stop to it right there.  Swallow your pride and move on.  If you're angry because something is truly wrong, use that anger productively to set things right, but do not sin in the process.  Two wrongs won't make things right.  And righteous or not, don't let your anger fester.  Deal with it one way or another, because simmering anger is fodder for the devil and for all sorts of sin.  We all know that from experience.  Let your anger simmer and before too long you're thinking about payback and revenge and neither of those things have any place in the Christian life.  That was our lesson two Sunday's ago: As he has vindicated Jesus, so the Father will one day vindicate us.  We don't need to vindicate ourselves. In short, James says, “Human anger doesn't produce God's justice.”  In other words, your anger is not what will set this broken world to rights.  I know it always seems like it will at the time, but it won't.  Just consider: You think your anger will set things right so you lash out at that other person.  And now what are they thinking?  They're thinking the same thing: All the situation needs is a little bit of their anger to fix it so they lash out at you.  And all it all does is make everything worse.  Brother and Sisters, James reminds us to instead be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger.  God is the one who will bring justice to the world and right the wrongs.  If we have been wronged, God will vindicate us.  The best thing we can do is to respond with the gospel and the Spirit.  Where the world is broken, where relationships are broken, we should be asking ourselves how we can bring to bear the things that God's Spirit gives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  Our anger won't help God make things right.  And so James warns: So put away everything that is sordid, all that overflowing malice, and humbly receive the word which has been planted within you and which has the power to save your lives.   Do you see what he did there?  More often than not, when we get angry, it's because our pride has been hurt and that kind of anger tempts us to lash out—it tempts us to respond to a hurt or a wrong with some kind of sin.  Insults, brawling, that sort of thing.  In contrast, James says that when our pride is threatening to take control of us, we need instead to meekly receive—to hearken to—the word that God has implanted in us.  If this were St. Paul, he'd be reminding us to put off the old man and to put on the new.  The pride and anger are the old man talking, but in Jesus and the Spirit God has made us new.  James puts it in terms of the word by which God has forgiven us and made us a new creation.  I think James had Isaiah 55:10-11 in mind when he was writing this.  That's where the Lord, through the Prophet, says: For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven          and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout,          giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;          it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,          and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.   This is one of my favourite passages in all of Scripture.  When I get frustrated with my own sin and my own shortcomings and my own failures to be faithful to God, I remember what he says about his word here.  And as a pastor, when I'm discouraged with ministry and when it seems like nothing is happening or people aren't maturing or when I see sin and shortcomings and failures to be faithful in the church, again, I come back to what the Lord says about his word here and I go back to the word, because God's word is the source of life.  Nothing I can do will bring the life of God to myself or to other people—only his word can do that—and he promises through Isaiah that his word always accomplishes what he purposes and it always succeeds in that for which he sends it forth.  So I preach his word to myself and I preach his word to you and trust him to cause it to bear fruit in me and in you, because he says that that is what he will do.  God's word is life. So, Brothers and Sisters, don't let God's word go in one ear and out the other.  James writes, “Be people who do the word, not merely people who hear it and deceive themselves.”  Don't just listen to the word.  Don't just read it.  Hear it, Brothers and Sisters.  Hearken to it.  Do it.  If it helps, read your Bible with your finger in your ear to remind you not to let it go in one ear and out the other.  These are God's words and they are life!  Too often we come to church and hear the word or we sit down at home and read the word, but we don't actually hear it, we don't let it sink in, we don't let it take root like a seed, and so we don't become doers of the word, letting it make a difference and transform us.  If we just let the word go in one ear and out the other we're in danger of deceiving ourselves.  We think, “I've read the Bible or I've listened to it in church and I've done my duty,” but Friends, if the word doesn't take root in our hearts and minds, if it doesn't make a difference, we miss out on the life of God.  He promises that his word will accomplish what he purposes—that it will make a difference, that it will bring new life—but first we have to hear it, not just listen, but hear it, take it in, obey it, and let it change us. James uses an illustration here.  Look at verses 23-25: Someone who hears the word but does not do it, you see, is like a man who looks at his natural face in a mirror.  He notices himself, but then he goes away and quickly forgets what he looked like.  But the person who looks into the perfect law of freedom, and goes on with it, not being a hearer who forgets but a doer who does the deed—such a person is blessed in their doing.   You walk past a mirror, have a look, then walk away and forget.  In one ear and out the other.  That's not how we should approach God's word.  And how do we know if we're really letting God's word take root and grow in us?  We know it's growing in us when we go from being mere hearers to being actual doers of that word.  When we don't just know in our heads that truth is important, but when we stop telling lies, when we stop misrepresenting people, and speak the truth.  When “love your enemies and do good to them” goes from being something in your head to something you actually live out.  When love your wife or submit to your husband translates into loving your wife or submitting to your husband in real and practical ways.  When the Lord's Supper goes from being something you eat to something you live out in your interactions with your brothers and sisters in the Lord, showing love and living in the unity Jesus has given us.  When we confront the injustices of the world, not with anger, but with the gospel and the life of the Spirit. And notice how James makes this point.  He takes us back to his own roots.  He was a Jew.  He was circumcised into the Lord's covenant people when he was eight days old.  He grew up living torah, because he was one of the covenant people and that's what covenant people did.  That's how they were faithful to the Lord in return for his faithfulness to them.  And they learned the torah, the law, by reading and studying God's word.  And as much as Jesus changed everything, he didn't change the fact that the Lord continues to live in covenant with his people.  Jesus established a new covenant, but it's still a covenant.  And the Spirit has given a new law, but it's still a law.  God's people are still called to be different from the world.  As he marked out the Jews with circumcision and called them to live according to the torah, so he marks out the people of Jesus with baptism and calls us to live the law of the Spirit—what James calls the “perfect law, the law of liberty”.  Faithful Jews were doers—keeping the sabbath, eating clean foods and not eating unclean foods, all of that.  Some people think that Jesus has freed us from all of the doing, but it's really just the opposite.  Jesus calls us to even more and better doing, the difference is that instead of pointing to a list of laws written on stone and saying “Do that”, he fills us with God's own Spirit, gives us his own example of love at the cross, rises from the dead and gives us a foretaste of his new creation and says “Do that in the power of the Spirit”.  And this new law, instead of burdening us, actually ends up freeing us from all those things that used to weigh us down: anger and filthiness and wickedness and replaces it all with the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control as the Spirit and the word work in us to redirect the affections of our hearts from sin and from self to love for God and love for each other. And so James sums it up in verses 26 and 27, writing: If anyone supposes that he is devout, and does not control his tongue, but rather deceives his heart—such a person's religion is futile.  As far as God the Father is concerned, pure, unsullied religion works like this: you should visit orphans and widows in their sorrow, and prevent the world leaving its dirty smudge on you.   God's word and God's Spirit will transform us.  It doesn't happen in an instant, so we have to be careful here.  Our expectations for a new Christian aren't the same as they are for a mature Christian, but still, a Christian will show the transforming work of God's life-giving word in his life.  And so James says that if you think you're religious—note that “religion” isn't the bad word some people make it out to be today.  Religion is our service to God.  There's good religion and there's bad religion as we'll see in a bit.  So if you think you're serving God but you don't have a bridle on your tongue—that's not the only thing that might show this, but since James has been talking about anger and sinful words, this is the example he uses here—if you speak hateful and hurtful and untrue things, you've deceived yourself.  You've been letting God's word go in one ear and out the other.  You haven't actually heard it and so it hasn't taken root and it's not growing in your heart.  It calls into question your profession of faith and your place in the covenant.  We enter the covenant through faith in Jesus.  And we show our membership in the covenant by doing the word, by living the law of the Spirit.  And if you aren't living the law of the Spirit, well, it begs the question: Are you really a member of the covenant?  Is your faith in Jesus real?  Because a Christian without the fruit of the Spirit, a Christian who is worldly and doesn't bridle his tongue, well he's like a Jew who isn't circumcised and who labours on the sabbath.  He's a contradiction. In contrast, true religion, real service to God looks like this: visiting orphans and widows and keeping yourself unstained by the filthiness of the world.  James could have listed any number of things here, but he's certainly practical and these are things that stood out in the First Century and made people take note of Christians and the Church.  It was a dog-eat-dog world, but the Christians took care of each other and they took care of the poor and vulnerable, because that's what love in action looks like and because that's what new creation looks like.  And in a world of filth, where culture was crude and vulgar and religion often involved ritual drug use and prostitution, God's people stood apart—much as the Jews of the old covenant had stood apart.  Jesus' people, transformed by word and Spirit, should stand as beacons of his new creation, by our lives and by our proclamation, lifting the veil on what God has in store for this broken world. So Brother and Sisters, be Easter people.  If you have believed that Jesus died and rose from the dead to forgive our sins and to make us part of his new creation, prove it.  Really be Easter people.  Immerse yourselves in God's word and hear what he has to say.  Don't let it go in one ear and out the other.  Let it sink in and take root and grow.  And then be the new creation that God's word will make us if we give it the chance.  As he promised, he will make us the firstfruits of his new creation—and that, Brothers and Sisters, is how he is setting the wrongs of this world to right.  Not by our anger, but by his word and by his Spirit. Let's pray: O Lord, from whom all good things come: Grant to us, your humble servants, that by your holy inspiration we may think those things that are good, and by your merciful guidance put them into practice; through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.  Amen.

A Sermon for the Third Sunday after Easter St. John 16:16-22 by William Klock On Easter morning we heard St. John's account of the empty tomb.  How Mary Magdalene had come running to the house where he and Peter and the others were hiding.  How she sobbed out that someone had taken Jesus' body.  How he and Peter ran to the tomb as dawn was breaking and how they found it empty, with the linen graveclothes lying there neatly.  And we heard John say that “he believed”.  Somehow…inexplicably…Jesus had risen from the dead.  John believed in the resurrection of the dead.  They all did.  It was their hope.  But it wasn't supposed to happen like this.  Maybe it was fear, maybe it was confusion, maybe he just wanted to be more certain, but he didn't say anything.  They went back to the house where the other disciples were.  They went back into hiding.  Doors locked, windows shuttered, no lights, no fire.  When things blew over, they could sneak out of Jerusalem, slink back to Galilee.  Maybe they could go back to their old lives and everyone would forget that they'd been followers of Jesus. But then the next week we read from John's first epistle.  We read those words: Everything that is fathered by God conquers the world.  This is the victory that conquers the world: our faith!  That doesn't sound like the same John afraid to even tell his friends that he believed Jesus had been raised from death.  And last week we read from Peter's first epistle and he exhorted us to bear patiently with suffering.  Peter went from hiding behind locked doors on Easter to boldly preaching the risen Jesus in the temple court just fifty days later.  He would eventually find himself proclaiming that gospel in Rome itself, where he would be martyred for that holy boldness.  What happened? Brothers and Sisters, hope happened.  Jesus, the risen Messiah, appeared to them in that locked room.  They saw him, resurrected and renewed and yet still the same Jesus with the scars of the cross in his hands and feet.  They saw Jesus risen from the dead.  Not a ghost, not a spirt, but Jesus bodily raised.  It wasn't supposed to happen that way.  It was supposed to be everybody all at once, not just one person even if he was the Messiah.  But there he was, proving the old doctrine of the Pharisees and the Prophets and their fathers true—just not the way they expected.  But even that's not so much what motivated them to leave their hiding places and to proclaim the risen Jesus to the world.  It's what Jesus' resurrection meant.  Because Jesus' resurrection was more than just an astounding miracle.  Jesus' resurrection was the proof that God's new world had been born, that new creation had begun, that the promises he made through the prophets and the hopes of God's people were being fulfilled.  Jesus' resurrection meant that the hopes of God's people were finally becoming reality.  Jesus had kindled God's light in the midst of the darkness and they knew the darkness would never overcome it.  But as they worked this out, they also realised that while Jesus had inaugurated this new creation, it would be they—Peter, John, Mary, the others, you and I—who would carry and announce God's new creation to the world.  Again, this hope, made real, made manifest in the resurrection of Jesus, is what sent the disciples out, not just to announce that God had performed a miracle in raising Jesus, but to announce the God's new creation had been born and that Jesus is its king—and if that proclamation cost them everything, even if it got them killed—they knew that God would raise them and that he would vindicate them, just as he had Jesus. Nothing else changed.  They were hiding in that locked and darkened house because—usually—when the authorities crucified a rebel or a revolutionary, they would also round up and crucify his followers.  As it turned out, it doesn't seem that anyone was seriously interested in doing that to Jesus' disciples.  But they didn't know that.  The real danger came when they went out and began proclaiming the good news about Jesus—as they challenged the false gods and the pretend kings of the darkness with the light of the Lord Jesus, as they confronted this fallen world and its systems with God's new creation.  That's when they were mocked, beaten, arrested, and martyred. Think of Paul.  He was one of the one's breathing threats against Jesus' disciples.  He was there looking on while Stephen was stoned, holding coats so people could better throw stones at him.  And then as Paul was on his way to round up Christians to bring them before the Jewish authorities, he was met by the risen Jesus.  And, again, it wasn't just an amazing miracle that inspired Paul to take up his own cross and to follow Jesus—to follow Jesus and to be beaten, stoned, imprisoned, and eventually murdered for the sake of the gospel.  It was hope.  It was what the resurrection of Jesus meant.  Jesus, risen from the dead, was proof of God's faithfulness and proof that his promises of forgiveness and new life and new creation and of humanity and creation set to rights—everything the Jews (and Paul!) had hoped and longed for—it was proof that it was all true and that it was coming true in Jesus.  The light has come into the darkness and the darkness has not and never will overcome it.  It was proof that if we are in Jesus the Messiah, we have a share in God's new creation and that no amount of suffering and not even death can take that away.  People aren't going to risk their lives to report a miracle.  What drove Peter, John, Paul—and all our brothers and sisters since—what drove them to risk everything to proclaim the good news was the knowledge, the assurance, the hope that through that proclamation God's promised new creation would overcome the darkness, the sadness, the tears—that it would make all the sad things of this broken world come untrue—for them and eventually for everyone who believes.  The kingdom would spread and grow until heaven and earth, God and humanity are at one again. All of this is what Jesus is getting at in our Gospel today from John 16.  It's from the middle of the long teaching that Jesus gave to his disciples when they were in the Garden of Gethsemane, after they ate that last Passover meal with Jesus.  Over and over Jesus exhorts them saying things like, Don't let your hearts be troubled…trust God and trust me, too.  And: I chose you, and I appointed you to go and bear fruit that will last…If the world hates you, know that it hated me before it hated you.  If you were from the world, the world would be fond of its own.  But the world hates you because you're not from the world.  No, I chose you out of the world.  And at the beginning of Chapter 16 he says to them: I've said these things to you to stop you from being tripped up.  They will put you out of the synagogues.  In fact, the time is coming when anyone who kills you will suppose that they are in that way offering worship to God…I have told you these things so that when their time comes, you will remember that I told you about them.   I expect the disciples were remembering that part of what Jesus said very well when they were hiding.  “Jesus said they'd come to kill us,” they whispered in the dark.  What they didn't remember—or at least what they didn't understand were the words we read today.  In verse 16 Jesus says: “Not long from now, you won't see me anymore.  Then again, not long after that, you will see me.”   They expected—like pretty much everyone else—that the Messiah would bring some kind of revolt or revolution.  He would overthrow the pagans and take the throne of Israel and, ruling over Israel, he would restore God's people to their rightful place and status in the world.  So it's no wonder that when they heard this, they started murmuring amongst themselves.  John goes on: “What's he talking about?” some of his disciples asked each other.  “What's this business about ‘not long from now, you won't see me, and again not long after that you will see me'?  And what's this about ‘going to the Father'?”   Maybe Jesus was going to finally do what the Messiah was supposed to do.  Maybe he was going to go gather his army and come back to battle the Romans.  John writes: They kept on saying it.  “What is this ‘not long'?”  “What's it all about?”  “We don't know what he means!”  Jesus was doing that thing again where he would say cryptic things or tell a confusing story.  It got their interest and then he could fill them in.  Jesus knew that they wanted to ask him, John says. “You're discussing with each other what I meant, aren't you?” he said.  “You want to know what I meant by saying, ‘Not long from now, you won't see me; and then again, not long after that you will see me.'  That's it, isn't it?  Well, I'm going to tell you the solemn truth.”   I can see them all stopping the whispers and leaning forward.  “Yes, Teacher.  Tell us what you mean!”  So Jesus goes on in the silence:  “You will weep and wail, but the world will celebrate.  You will be overcome with sorrow, but your sorrow will turn into joy.”  I can picture the confused looks coming back to their faces.  The Messiah was supposed to make everything all better.  He was supposed to set everything to rights and to wipe away all the tears.  The Messiah was supposed to bring an end to weeping and wailing!  So Jesus gives them an illustration they could understand: “When a woman is giving birth she is in anguish, because her moment has come.  But when the child is born, she no longer remembers the suffering, because of the joy that a human being has been born into the world.”  And then he adds in verse 22: In the same way, you have sorrow now.  But I shall see you again, and your hearts will celebrate, and nobody will take your joy from you.”   Even with the childbirth illustration, it was still pretty cryptic.  Even with what follows—which we'll come to in our Gospel for Rogation Sunday in two more weeks—even with that, the disciples really didn't understand—yet.  It was all there in the Prophets and it was all there in the things Jesus had been teaching.  The son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected by the elders, and the chief priests, and the legal experts.  He must be killed and raised up on the third day,” Jesus had said at one point.  It doesn't get much clearer than that.  And yet the events of that first Good Friday and Easter Day came as a complete surprise to them.  But then when they met the risen Jesus it all started to come back to them and it started to fall into place.  The wheels started turning.  Mental light bulbs started turning on.  The one thing left that they needed was the Holy Spirit—but I don't want to get ahead of the story.  We're still in that fifty days between Easter and Pentecost. And I think those fifty days must have been some of the most exciting days in the history of the world.  The disciples sat with Jesus—risen and glorified, the first bit of God's new creation real and tangible and true right there with them—and he taught them.  He went back over the scriptures—no doubt saying things he'd said a hundred times before—but now, in light of the resurrection, it all started to make sense.  And I can imagine their excitement growing between being there with Jesus in all his resurrected glory and as they connected the scriptural dots and as they saw how the story they had grown up with, the story they lived every year at Passover, the story that defined who they were, the story they knew so, so, so well began to unfold in a new way.  They'd always known it was a great story about the mighty and saving deeds of the Lord, but over those forty days in the presence of Jesus and hearing him teach and explain the story turned into something more glorious than they ever could have imagined.  The God they'd known became so much bigger and more glorious than they ever thought he could be.  And then it was time for Jesus to ascend and he had to tell them, “Wait.”  They were ready and eager and excited to go out into Jerusalem and Judea to start telling everyone the story—the story everyone knew, but now seen in a new and glorious light through the lens of Jesus' resurrection—and about this new hope they knew.  God's new creation had finally come and they'd spent the last forty days living in his presence.  But Jesus said, “Wait.  Your excitement about what God has done is only part of what you need.  Wait.  Just a little bit—ten more days—so I can send God's Spirit.  Couple this good news with the power of the Spirit and not even the gates of hell will stop you!” And, Lord knows, the gates of hell have tried, but the gates of hell had already done their worst at the cross, and Jesus rose victorious.  And that's how and that's why those first disciples took up their crosses and followed Jesus.  Peter was crucified at Rome, Andrew was crucified in Greece, Thomas was speared by soldiers in India, Philip was martyred at Carthage, Matthew was martyred in Ethiopia, Bartholomew in Armenia, James was stoned to death in Jerusalem, Simon was martyred in Persia, and Matthias in Syria.  Only John survived, after being exiled to Patmos.  You see, in the risen Jesus they saw the proof that sin and death have been decisively defeated, that the false gods and kings of the old evil age have been exposed, and most of all they saw that God's promised and long-hoped for new creation has been born.  The resurrection gave them hope and that hope sent them out to proclaim the good news even though it meant following in the suffering of Jesus.  And their stories have been the stories of countless Christians through the ages—of the Christians who died in the Roman persecutions, who died at the hands of the Sassanids, the Goths, the Vikings, the Caliphs, the Turks, the Kahns, the French revolutionaries, the Communists, the Islamists.  It's been the stories of countless missionaries who marched into hostile territory for the sake of the gospel, knowing they very well might die for it, but also knowing that the way of the cross is the path into God's new creation. Brothers and Sisters, too often these days we've lost sight of this.  Maybe it's the prosperity gospel, maybe it's that we haven't known any meaningful persecution for so long, but we Christians in the modern west seem to have forgotten this.  There's no room for suffering and the way of the cross in our theology.  We gloss over what look like “failures” in church history.  I was listening to a sermon this past week.  The preacher was telling the story of a missionary named Peter Milne.  Milne was a Scottish minister and part of a group that called themselves “one-way” missionaries.  When they shipped out to far off lands to proclaim the gospel, they packed their worldly goods in a coffin.  It was symbolic.  They were going out as missionaries with no expectation of ever returning home.  They would die—one way or another—in the land they went to evangelise.  Peter Milne went to the New Hebrides in the South Pacific.  It was a land of head-hunting cannibals.  Milne wasn't the first to go.  Others had gone before and were killed by the natives.  Milne was the first to go and to survive and to have a thriving gospel ministry.  When he died fifty-some years later in 1924, he was buried in his coffin with the epitaph: “When he came, there was no light.  When he left, there was no darkness.”  When he'd arrived there wasn't a single Christian on the island.  When he died, there wasn't a single person who wasn't a Christian. But here's the thing—and the preacher I was listening to completely missed it: Following Jesus means first taking up a cross.  It's not about the glory of “successful” ministry.  It's about dying to self, and living for the hope of God's glory and the spread of his kingdom.  The preacher I listened to said nothing of the others who had gone before Milne to the New Hebrides and been martyred.  They don't fit in with our prosperity and business model theology.  We admire their willingness to give their lives for the sake of the gospel, but they sort of get chalked up as failures.  But to do that is to miss what it means to follow Jesus, to know the pangs of childbirth, but to also experience the joy that makes the pain and the sorrow pale in comparison. As Tertullian said, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church, but so are all the other good-faith “failures”.  There was a week when we were church-planting in Portland that I found myself all alone.  Veronica's mom was sick and she and Alexandra had travelled up to Kelowna.  The other family that was helping us to get things off the ground had to be away that weekend.  It was just me.  But The Oregonian newspaper had just run a story on us.  I'd had several contacts that week.  The show had to go on.  We were meeting at a Lutheran Church on Sunday evenings, so I asked the pastor there if one of their organists could come and play that evening.  She came and she and I sat there waiting.  And 7pm came and went.  And 7:05, and 7:15 and we knew no one was coming.  I was discouraged and it was obvious.  She and I said Evening Prayer together and then she told me her story.  She and her husband, a pastor, had been Lutheran church planters in Jamaica for almost ten years.  They had a very small group that had asked them to come to help them plant a church and for ten years they tried and nothing ever happened.  When they finally decided to quit there were no more people than when they started.  She said that she and her husband found the whole thing utterly discouraging.  They had made significant sacrifices to be there and nothing had happened.  It was tempting to be angry with God.  They returned home thinking they were failures and wondering why.  They'd been faithful in proclaiming Jesus.  They'd spent hours every week in prayer with that little group of people.  And then several years later they received a letter.  It was from a pastor in Kingston.  Not long after they'd left, he'd arrived to plant a church.  His group moved into the building left behind by the Lutherans and quickly began to grow and thrive.  And he wrote to thank them.  “You soaked this place in prayer and you cast gospel seed all through the neighbourhood,” he wrote.  He didn't know why it never grew for them, but he knew they'd been faithful and he was now reaping a harvest he hadn't planted and he wanted to thank them for their faithfulness.  That elderly Lutheran organist told me that story with tears in her eyes and said, “Be faithful and don't be discouraged.  Whatever happens, if you are faithful, the Lord is at work.  Some of us plant, some of us water, some of us reap, but it's all the Lord's work.”  She reminded me of the hope that lies before me—and that lies before all of us—and that Jesus doesn't just call us to follow him; he first calls us to take up our crosses.  Just it was necessary for Jesus to give his life that he might be raised from death, so must we die to ourselves that we might live.  Brothers and Sisters, fix your eyes on Jesus.  He knew the joy that was set before him and so he endured the cross.  He scorned its shame.  And because of that the Father raised him from the dead and has seated him at his right hand.  His kingdom has been born.  Now the joy of the kingdom, of new creation, of God's life is before us.  May it be the reason that we take up our crosses and follow our Lord. Let's pray: Gracious Father, as we come to your Table this morning, give us a taste of your great kingdom feast; let us see Jesus, risen from the dead; and make us especially aware of your indwelling Spirit that we might be filled with the joy of your salvation and the joy of your new creation.  Strengthen us with joy, so that we will not fear to take up our crosses and follow Jesus.  Amen.

1 John 4; Rogation Sunday

This week is Rogation Sunday. Traditionally based on the new planting season, Rogation is when Anglicans ask God's blessing upon the material goods and produce of the new year. It's also a time for reflecting on economic justice and charitable giving. The readings for this week focus on prayer and the right way to use the gifts God gives. The Epistle is James 1:22-27, the Gospel is St. John 16:23-33, and the Old Testament readings are Deuteronomy 8 and 9.

Scripture Readings: Acts 11:19-30; Psalm 33:1-8, 17-21; 1 John 4:7-21; John 15:9-17

Sermon delivered by Bp. Stephen Scarlett on Sunday, May 5, 2024.

ROGATION SUNDAY We celebrate God and God's gifts to us. May we be blest in Word made flesh, in Word made soil. The creative Word of God that has brought about this good earth and all that is in it. Subscribe to Podcast feed [...] This post Rogation Sunday is on the Saint Andrew's Episcopal Church website.

A sermon on Rogation Sunday.

"Gathered in from the Lands (Rogation Sunday)," Witnesses, Ps. 107, The Very Rev. Dr. Dan Alger. After Jesus' resurrection from the dead, he spends 40 days with his disciples. On the day of his ascension to heaven, he tells his apostles that they will receive power from the Holy Spirit to be witnesses of his life and resurrection to Jerusalem and the ends of the earth. What was their early ministry like and how did God work through them to spread the gospel in their own culture and to the greater Greco-Roman world? What does it mean for us to live as present-day witnesses in the culture God has put us in?

Rogation Sunday

Fr. Sean McDermott's sermon for Rogation Sunday preached on May 5, 2024 at All Saints Anglican Church in Charlottesville, VA.

Text: James 1:22-end

Scriptures: Isaiah 45:11–13; Psalm 33:1–8, 17–21; 1 John 4:7–21; John 15:9–17 | By: Kevin Whitfield | Topic: Work as Love Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Creation is complete when humans are a part of it, but creation does not belong to humans, but to God. As Christians, creation care isn't simply a nice thing we can do, but it is a calling on every believer. If you like what you hear, we hope you'll join us in person if you're in the area. Learn more about us: https://linktr.ee/servantsanglican https://www.servantsanglican.org/

The Gospel reading and Sermon from the Sixth Sunday After Easter (Rogation Sunday), given by The Rev'd Sean S. Templeton, Rector of St. Anselm Anglican Church.

Archdeacon Andrew preaches on James 1.

Text: John 16:23ff

John 15:1-11

Alan finishes the Rogation Sunday service at Bridge Farm before leading the way to the edible forest garden for refreshments. Neil and Harrison both loved the service, which visited all parts of the farm. Helen's response is slightly off-kilter though, before the subject moves onto yesterday's Ambridge Eurovision Show, won by Freddie. When Neil moves off Helen asks Harrison for news about Rob Titchener. She's convinced it was him who phoned on Friday. He needs to be warned off making contact ever again. Later, Harrison reports that Rob has denied making the call. The police say Rob has a rock solid alibi too. But Helen insists it was him and nothing will convince her otherwise. She thinks Rob's outwitting everyone, including the police. But she is determined she will be ready for him. At the edible forest garden Alan points out a mystery parcel that's been delivered. It's full of toys, gifted by Schaeffer Baas, the chemicals company Seren and Nova modelled for. Tony is incandescent, guessing where it's come from, even though no-one told him or Pat. He insists Bridge Farm's business reputation will be trashed. Helen deflects the blame squarely on to Tom. Tony wants Helen to let him deal with Tom once he's back from Wales with Natasha. Neil fields a call from Hannah about the excessive workload at Berrow Farm. She's sent exhausted Jodie home. Neil suggests bringing forward the interviews for Jazzer's replacement to Tuesday, starting the job by Friday, ideally. Martyn will have to agree because they can't go on like this.

A series on 1 Peter

Dn. Andrew

Fr. Glenn Spencer's sermon for Easter 5, commonly called Rogation Sunday, preached at All Saints Anglican Church in Charlottesville, VA on May 14, 2023.

During the sermon, images were shared that enhanced our understanding of Rogation Sunday. You can see these by watching beginning at about 34 minutes in: https://www.youtube.com/live/5X5JNb0eXVs?feature=share&t=2037. Rogation Sunday and the days that follow up to Ascension are all about prayer. Tying it in with the morning's Gospel reading from John 15, Fr. James Manley talks about the history of the day, how we pray during these days, and why our faith isn't about just trying harder to bear fruit. If you like what you see, we hope you'll join us in person if you're in the area. Learn more about us: https://linktr.ee/servantsanglican https://www.servantsanglican.org/

Morning lessons: Psalm 34; Deuteronomy 15; Luke 8:22-56.  I will always give thanks unto the Lord; his praise shall ever be in my mouth.

Evening lessons: Psalm 35; Job 42; 1 John 2:7-29.  Contend, O Lord, with those who contend with me, and fight against those who fight against me.

While walking the field Ben and David see a man approaching. It's Rylan! He explains his Satnav has stopped working. Ben offers to give Rylan directions to Ambridge Hall over a cup of tea. Rylan is soon settled in at Brookfield, while Ben explains about the original booking mix-up with Lynda. Rylan's keen to see their Sound of Music act at the village Eurovision Show. When Mick arrives he's relieved that Rylan remembers him from a corporate event they did together. Then Lynda turns up, her suspicions roused by Ben's delaying tactics. A squabble ensues over hosting Rylan, who's mortified to discover Lynda turfed out another guest on his behalf. He's equally unhappy with Ben's sniping and asks Mick if he can stay with him instead. Mick offers a room at Joy's house on Beechwood and they set off together, leaving Ben and Lynda deflated. Kirsty visits Bridge Farm Shop, where Helen details plans for the Rogation Sunday service at Bridge Farm next week. Kirsty would love it at the rewilding site next year. She's keen to revive cultural heritage as well as biodiversity and wildlife. David arrives, pointing out an article in the Echo about the Coronation Illumination. It makes it look like he works at Bridge Farm. He wants a correction published and hopes he can persuade them to write about Brookfield. Helen mentions that Adam's half-sister Erin is visiting next week. When the others have gone Helen is disturbed by a phone call. The call ends, and she fears the worst.

The Season and Celebration of Rogation traditionally happens on the 3 days before Ascension Day and has been around since the 5th Century. Check out https://www.episcopalchurch.org/glossary/rogation-days/  A growing number of churches will celebrate Rogation Sunday on May 14th this year. It also is Morher's Day (there is a sermon there).  Join co-hosts Derrick Weston and Brian Sellers-Petersen for a lively conversation with Vera Racine and Joe Rose for a lively conversation about all the agrarian ministry going on at St James's in West Hartford, CT and hear about the their Rogation plans. 

Father Gary talks about Rogation Sunday and the importance of sacred space. We also talk about upcoming events and happenings in the life of the church. Father Gary concludes with a little update on his sabbatical. Oh, and there is a teaser about a POSSIBLE new church site. 

The Order for Morning Prayer according to the usage of the Book of Common Prayer, 1928, for Rogation Sunday, The Fifth Sunday after Easter.

The Order for Evening Prayer according to the usage of the Book of Common Prayer, 1928, for Rogation Sunday, The Fifth Sunday after Easter.

Today, the Church celebrates and prays for the land, the produce of farms and livestock, and all things that give us sustenance. But, how does that relate to understanding of Creation now and the age to come. Father Blackburn reflects on New Creation, Stewardship of Creation, and all the things that give us blessings in this life.

Morning lessons: Psalms 52, 53, 54; Deuteronomy 23; Luke 12:1-34.  Why do you boast, you tyrant, that you can do evil?

Evening lessons: Psalm 55; Ecclesiastes 8; Acts 1:15-26.  Hear my prayer, O God, and hide not yourself from my petition.