Pastor Sherry’s message for 9/13/26
Scriptures: Ex 14:19-31; Ps 114; Ro 14:1-13; Matt 18:21-35
Two weeks ago, I preached on what Scripture has to tell about how we should try to live out our Christian walk. Once again, our passages appointed for today provide great guidance for daily living:
A. Our Old Testament lesson, Exodus14:19-31, reminds us of God’s miraculous interventions on behalf of His Chosen People. The free Hebrew slaves are caught between all of Egypt’s chariots (“the devil”) and the Red Sea (“the deep blue sea”). Pharaoh has rethought letting his slave labor force leave the country. He has pursued them with all of his considerable number of chariots (more than 600). The Pre-Incarnate Jesus appears as a cloud toward the Egyptians, keeping them in the dark (miracle #1); and a pillar of fire toward the Israelites, so they could see overnight (miracle #2) to walk thru the parted Red Sea (miracle #3), on dry ground (stated 3 times in the passage, and comprising miracle #4). God effects a massive rescue of His people, drowning Pharaoh’s army without a single military battle between Hebrews and Egyptians (miracle #5)–>The battle belongs to the Lord. This divine rescue is recalled again and again in Scripture so that we will be grateful to God for His providence and protection.
B. This divine rescue is also memorialized in Psalm 114. The psalmist wants us to realize that the Lord (v.3) “rolled back the Red Sea…” and “held back the Jordan River.”
(J. Vernon McGee, Through the Bible Commentary on the Psalms, Thomas Nelson, 1991, p.76.)
McGee claims it is “a call to remembrance of God’s mercy and power on behalf of His people.” We want to live our lives in awe of and believing in God’s miraculous, redemptive powers on our behalf.
C. Paul asserts in Romans 14:1-13 that we should not criticize one another (Christians against Christians) for differences in on issues that are not critical to salvation. Some people dress up for church and others, more casually. This shouldn’t matter because our heart attitudes and beliefs about Jesus are more important than the way we dress. Some believe we shouldn’t dance or play cards, while others do both. Some prefer organ music, while others, the piano or guitars and drums None of these is critical to salvation, but we do want to be aware of how our behavior influences nonbelievers. The point is that our behavior as Christ-followers should not be a stumbling block to new Christians or to those seeking the Lord (we shouldn’t cuss, get drunk, view porn, etc.).
D. Finally, Jesus makes it very clear, in Matthew18:21-35, that we are to forgive whoever offends us. Because of all that God has forgiven us, we are to offer to others the same grace. And we are to do so again and again and again—because our God forgives us innumerable times.
There we have it: Some really valuable advice on how to live if we want to please Jesus.
Now I want to depart from my usual style of “sermon-izing” and ask you to bear with me as I read an excerpt from a modern novel that is making the rounds today: Theo of Golden, by Allen Levi (Simon & Schuester, 2023). Three friends mentioned this book within a single week, and one even lent me her copy. I knew then the Lord meant for me to read it. It’s an excellent book and I recommend it.
The novel concerns an elderly man named Theo who transplants himself from New York City to a small town in southern Georgia along the banks of the Oxbow River. He is quiet, observant, and friendly, and—over the course of a year —makes many friends in Golden. One of these is a homeless woman with mental problems, named Ellen, who tenaciously holds onto her bicycle. She calls her bike, “The Noble Invention”—a reference from a story by author William Saroyan, titled “Rescue the Perishing.” Ellen may be mentally off but she has clearly been educated and is well-read. The portion of the novel I want to read you this morning concerns her initial visit to a Sunday service at St. James Episcopal Church (See pages 153-157). As I read, try to think about what the passage says about the congregation of St. James. And try to imagine how we would behave if someone like Ellen visited us for Sunday worship.
The excerpt: (Warning: the passage contains some cussing)
As the last note of the song faded, Father Lundy rose to welcome the congregants and make his opening remarks. He had just begun reading a passage of Scripture when to the complete and utter shock of everyone present, a loud disturbance erupted at the back of the room. The sound of breaking glass, a falling vase, sounded through the high rafters. That shock was heightened when the words being spoken became audible and distinguishable.
“You get your blue blood hands off of me, you pin-striped whore of Babylon! Touch me again, and I’ll ride this Nobel Invention right over your hypocritical ass! Get out of my way.
An usher, fighting an onset of total astonishment and embarrassment, was trying to restrain a wild-eyed woman wearing a blue hat from bringing her bicycle into the sanctuary. She had forced her way through the door, bicycle in tow, and was intent on joining the congregation assembled there.
Or, more precisely, intent on finding and joining Theo.
Every head turned her way. A number of the leaders and others moved immediately toward the disturbance and encircled the intruder. Any semblance of order or sanctity fled the room as Ellen, not to be deterred by another act of bureaucracy, railed against her opposition. She was equal parts prophet and whirling dervish.
“Your sign outside says ‘Visitors welcome.’ Well, St. Smartass, I’m a visitor, so get out of my way. You touch my property one more time and see what happens, you throne-sniffing Pharisee. Get the hell out of my way! All of you. Right now!”
Her fist was raised and ready.
St. James had never experienced, and likely never would again, such a display of righteous indignation on its premises. Some of the congregation watched or ducked down cautiously behind their pews, horror-stricken at this unexpected visit from an uninvited guest. After all, there had been killings in churches in recent years. Others, who recognized the woman from having seen her around town, were curious and even amused that an actual sinner had entered the elegant premises of James, the saint. The biblically literate among them might have expected a finger to start writing on the wall at any moment: Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsin.
Panicked cell phone calls, many from the sanctuary floor, were made to 911 with the expectation that, in a matter of seconds or minutes, officers would arrive, arrest the troublemaker, and restore dignity to the meeting. In the meantime, Father Lundy implored parishioners to remain seated and be calm. Few paid him any attention. The main event was clearly at the back of the sanctuary. Across the room, people gaped, craned their necks and whispered excitedly about the scene unfolding before them.
And then came a voice.
“Darling, Ellen. Ellen, darling. Hello, dear. Good morning, dear.” Mrs. Ocie Van Blarcum, her white hair shining like a nimbus, stepped between Ellen and the others and touched her hand. There was no sense of alarm or urgency in her voice. But her forceful presence made it abundantly clear who was now in charge.
Immediately, the confusion began to subside, affirmation that a gentle answer (still) turns away wrath.
“Ellen, please come sit with me, sweetheart. We’ll find a place for your bicycle. Would you like to sit with me and my family?”
Ellen stood silently for a moment, still defensive against the bodies that surrounded her. It took a moment and several hard blinks, but eventually a glimmer of recognition filled her gaze. Her hands relaxed.
“Hello, Miz Ocie.”
Mrs. Van Blarcum was a matriarch of St. James, a venerated and lifelong member whose family name was empaneled in the grand window that covered most of the sanctuary’s west wall. She knew well and lived devotedly the ethic of St. James: “Faith without works is dead.” She was not merely capable of saintliness. She was saintly. Some would have argued she was a saint.
While she fit in comfortably in the highbrow world of St. James, Ocie Van Blarcum was no stranger to the soup lines and homeless shelters in Golden. She and Ellen had seen each other often at such places.
She understood the difference between “troubled mind” and “troublemaker,” and she recognized in Ellen all the signs of the former—a wounded soul, a lost sheep, a “least of these my brethren.”
The sound of sirens had grown in strength until they were just outside the building. Clearly, more than one police vehicle had responded to the disturbance. Mrs. Van Blarcum instructed several of the ushers and vestry members, in a tone of voice that would not be denied, to tell the policemen to leave. Her eyes blazed with an authoritative “right nowness.”
“Ellen, come this way, darling. My family is right here. On that row. We have room for you.”
Ellen shook her head. “No ma’am. I’m looking for Mr. Theo.”
At that moment, he smiled and stepped forward into the small space that belonged to Ellen and Mrs. Van Blarcum.
“And Mr. Theo has been looking for you,” he said cheerfully. “Good morning, Ellen.”
Theo and Mrs. Van Blarcum knew each other only vaguely. They had met on a previous Sunday and had crossed paths occasionally since then. Standing there together with Ellen, they were the embodiment of goodness and mercy. And for the moment, the room belonged not to Father Lundy but to Ocie and Theo, surrogate shepherds of the flock.
No one shaving or dressing or selecting shoes or watching television before driving to St. James earlier that morning would have guessed that a church service could be as engrossing as this one was shaping up to be. No one could have anticipated the sight of an old man guiding a garishly attired homeless woman and her bicycle down the center aisle, eighth pew from the front, and helping her find a seat at the end of the row.
Ellen kickstanded the Noble Invention, sat and patted her blond dress, touched her necklace, rested her hands in her lap, smiled at Theo, then directed her attention to the pulpit.
Father Lundy began to speak. By then he had regained his composure. He knew a teachable moment when he saw one. He also knew that the congregation, if only they could see it, had just witnessed and participated in a sermon. Need he say more?
The organist, in a stroke of musical eloquence, played a simple rendering of “All Things Bright and Beautiful” as a never-before, widely-enlarged sense of reverence filled the room. Some still looked at Ellen. Most, “the oldest first,” had redirected their attention away from the spectacle of her strange appearance and had turned their gazes inward.
One could almost hear the sound of stones dropping to the ground.
After the morning service, it was agreed that, in the future, Theo would sit in the last row, on the outside aisle, so that when and if Ellen attended (which, in fact, she began to do regularly), her bicycle could be parked beside her. That way the Nobel Invention would not impede movement up and down the center aisle when collections of the offering and celebration of Holy Communion took place. It was the practice at St. James to dispense the bread and the cup at the altar to all in the faith who were able to walk forward., After the first week, when Ellen insisted on wheeling her bike with her to the Communion rail, Theo was able to convince her that it would be safe at the pew. He and Mrs. Ocie would guard it.
He also encouraged Ellen to be on time for the service. She was never late again.
This is such a lovely story and a great example of true Christian hospitality. I wept when I read it at home. We should welcome any and all visitors to our church. We want them to get to know Jesus. We want them to participate in our church family. It shouldn’t matter how they dress or even if they are disruptive. As Paul would say, we abandon our critical attitudes/ or judgments. While we can understand the shock of the ushers, we need to be as kind as both Mrs. Ocie and Theo. Remember when 18 Year old Dakota (who is autistic) wondered aloud, right in the middle of my sermon, where two missing couples were, one by one, and by name? I told him they were on vacation and that they would be back. He was worried about them, but my calm response reassured him and quieted his anxiety. Remember when toddler Annie wandered the sanctuary during both the readings and my sermon? I recall lifting her up and holding her in my arms as I finished my remarks.
We want all to feel welcome. We can offer grace to our members, but we can also do the same for the stranger—and even tolerate the presence of a friendly, 3-legged hound dog who joined us for worship Thursday night. Let this be our consistent response to anyone who joins us. AMEN!
©️2026 Rev. Dr. Sherry Adams