God raised Jesus and therefore raised all that Jesus embodied: Justice, forgiveness, love of enemies, not just tolerance, but love, extravagant generosity, risk. Freedom that comes from truth, no matter how awful that truth might be. These are the politics of Jesus, the politics that possessed Stephen, the politics that Thomas and the other disciples in the upper room knew as the Way, the truth, and the life.

When I look around I see that our world, and especially our country, has the appearance of a dumpster fire right now. Escaping that is not what church is about. Looking for light, looking for glimmers of hope and sharing them, is what we’re about. 

For all of us, there is an edge to our own comfort zone where we find Jesus by seeing differently.

The Episcopal Church—which loves to make public statements—has been strangely silent on the decades of sexual abuse and human trafficking engaged in by Jeffrey Epstein (may he rest in peace if he possibly can), and his friends. Every moment of silence devalues women and girls. 

How can we love in a way that will change life on this planet? I am not great at this kind of love, the love that Jesus preached throughout his whole life. I fail at it all the time, particularly when it comes to loving people who behave in ways that I can only describe as hateful. What saves me, and what I think can change the world and bring on the kingdom is being a community that is collectively striving to practice love. 

Peter and the other disciples have been expecting something glorious as they’ve been following Jesus around, watching him teach, preach, and perform miracles. Now they must turn around the big ship of their own expectations of what a Messiah might look like and consider instead what it means to have a Messiah who suffers and dies. 

Letting our light shine is not about evangelism as we think of it (another dubious gift of the Enlightment), cornering people to persuade them to believe in the afterlife. Evangelism is about seeking out the last, the least, and the lost and letting them know they are loved.

The “Where” questions in Genesis uncover human sin. Not just Eve’s sin or Adam’s sin or Cain’s sin, but the sin of the human condition whenever we separate ourselves from God. Separation from God, and the invitation to return, is at the core of all the scripture stories from the story of Cain right up to John the Baptist standing in the middle of the road saying: “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” 

When God moves into the neighborhood, God dwells in our individual and corporate humanity. God infuses us with divine life. God moves into our arena, pitches a tent in our midst. Not only does God go with us wherever we go, God who dwells among us as flesh is us wherever we go. Us, not me or you, not some but not others, all of us. From God’s fullness, as the gospel says, we have all received grace upon grace.