Storied Grace

What Are You Looking For?

A sermon for the second Sunday after the Epiphany
January 18, 2026, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Isaiah 49:1-7; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-42; Psalm 40:1-12

“What do you seek?” Erika stood at the front of the chapel with a group of fellow university students around her on the first Sunday of the spring semester. The priest had asked the question: “what do you seek?” The students were part of a Catechumenate class, a time of preparation for Confirmation offered by the Episcopal campus ministry. Erika, like many in that group in front of the priest, had not grown up Episcopalian. She had shown up in college, and she felt drawn to Confirmation, to a mature, public affirmation of faith. Classes would begin later on in the week, but on that day, a Sunday morning, she and her fellow seekers stood before the priest to officially begin the process. He asked, “what do you seek?” Luckily for them, the answer was provided in the bulletin. Liturgical churches are helpful in that way. The group answered as one: “Life in Christ.” It’s a good answer. To Erika, it felt honest, but she needed to put some meat on it, to understand it for herself. She was looking for Christ–or at least a new way of knowing him.

To Fulfill All Righteousness

A sermon for the First Sunday after the Epiphany: Baptism of Our Lord
January 11, 2026, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Isaiah 42:1-9; Acts 10:34-43; Matthew 3:13-17

Today we find ourselves at the banks of the Jordan River, with John the Baptist and all the sinners, all the guilt-ridden folks from Judea and Jerusalem, all of those yearning for a new start. They have gone out to this bizarre prophet to be baptized, confessing their sins, trusting that this act make some kind of change in their lives. They go out in faith, trusting that somehow God is active. They go out hoping that they will somehow connect with God, hoping what they do will be enough–and they find that God is already in the waters, waiting for them, doing for them what they cannot do for themselves.

Looking for a Sign

A sermon for the Second Sunday after Christmas
January 4, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Jeremiah 31:7-14; Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a; Matthew 2:1-12

This past week I visited my parents in Missouri for Christmas. It has become a custom of ours that before I leave, they take me to breakfast. This time they took me to a country restaurant, one of those where everything is covered in gravy, with pancakes that are 14 inches across. True to form, the restaurant is covered with rustic decorations: license plates, street signs, just about everything under the sun. Across from where we were sitting that morning was a metal sign, not very big, that said, “if you’re looking for a sign, this is it.” I wondered how many people saw that sign with its catchphrase and thought, “aha, there it is!” Reason enough to make things right, to reconnect, to keep going. There’s my sign.

And They Named Him Jesus

A sermon for the Feast of the Holy Name
January 1, 2026, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Numbers 6:22-27; Philippians 2:5-11; Luke 2:15-21

It seems like a throw-away line, something so simple and easy to overlook. After the angels and shepherds, Luke in the gospel writes today, “After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.” It doesn’t seem like a significant line. It seems routine, ordinary. But this name, the name of Jesus, the name given to the Son of God by the angel before he was conceived in the womb–this is the name above all names. As St. Paul says, at this name, “every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

I Will Greatly Rejoice

A sermon for the First Sunday after Christmas
December 28, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Isaiah 61:10-62:3; Psalm 147 or 147:13-21; Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7; John 1:1-18

I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

We heard those words from Isaiah today. A portion of what scholars call Third Isaiah, these words are spoken to a people who have returned home at last. After years in exile in Babylon, with no living memory of Jerusalem their home, God has brought them safely back. The land they left is a shambles; there is much work to be done; it is far from a finished or refined place. And yet they rejoice in the Lord. They rejoice because God has saved them–God has brought them back to himself and covered them with his own righteousness.

The Light Shines in the Darkness

A sermon for Christmas Day
December 25, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Isaiah 52:7-10; Hebrews 1:1-4,(5-12); John 1:1-14; Psalm 98

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” That’s how St. John puts it today. Jesus Christ is the Light of the World. That light is born into the darkness in Bethlehem. The darkness pursues that light, like dogs on a hunt. Herod’s soldiers chase down the Holy Innocents: darkness. The religious elite plot and plan: darkness. The Romans will execute him on a tree: and darkness covers the whole earth. But the light is not extinguished. The light that fills all in all grows and grows, and the light grows even now.

The Angels’ Lullaby

A sermon for Christmas Eve
December 24, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Isaiah 9:2-7; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14(15-20)

It must have been something to hear, the angels singing in the fields on the outskirts of Bethlehem. I imagine it sounded like Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. If you know that piece, you know that it has cannon fire and bells and brass fanfares. It is loud and glorious and wakes the dead. And surely the fiery angels lit up the sky like fireworks. “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on Earth peace among those whom he favors! Gloria in excelsis Deo!” For the Word Made Flesh, the Son of God, the One Long Hoped For is here at last. I don’t know how it all sounded, but I do know that when God comes among us, there must be music. The night is dark, but the music–the heavenly music–rings out. For how else could heaven and earth welcome their newborn King who is doing a new thing, who has come to save us all?

Joseph’s Prayer

A sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent
December 21, 2025, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Isaiah 7:10-16; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25; Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18

It was the tale of two Josephs. It was not the best of times; some would say it was the worst of times. For each of these Josephs, a difficult calling was issued, a difficult service required, a difficulty that tested righteousness, a difficulty that sapped their strength. No, it was not the best of times; some would say it was the worst of times. But perhaps there was light, just a flicker of hope.

Making Excuses

A sermon for the Ordination of Deacons:
The Revs. Bruce Bryant and Marcus Emmons
December 13, 2025, at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, Little Rock, AR

Readings: Jeremiah 1:4-9; Psalm 84; Acts 6:2-7; Luke 22:24-27

I had grown frustrated. I was sitting in yet another meeting for a community group going over financial reports. We seemed to be talking in circles about nothing at all. Have you been in meetings like that? Marcus and Bruce: As ordained leaders in this church, you will sit in your fair share of those meetings. But not wanting to rock the boat too much, I was hesitant to speak up. I was new on the board–I think it must have been my second meeting. So, rather timidly, I began my remarks. I said something like, “Well, I’m new here, but–” The chair cut me off. “This is the last time you use the excuse of being new; we want to hear from you.” I’m not sure why I felt like I needed to qualify my feedback. Maybe I wasn’t sure of my footing yet. The truth is, I can do that a lot–make excuses for myself. It’s a human thing, is it not? But the chair’s point was taken. I was on the board for a reason, and time was running short. Stop making excuses.

Now, Tomorrow, Forever

A sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent
December 7, 2026, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Isaiah 11:1-10; Romans 15:4-13; Matthew 3:1-12

John the Baptist appears today in the wilderness, yelling from the bank of a muddy river. He is a difficult personality, and yet folks flock to him, repenting and confessing their sins as they are baptized in the river Jordan. John proclaims that there is one coming after who will finish the work; John is getting us ready for Jesus. Repentance must happen before the Savior can come into our hearts. But it seems, at least in John’s eyes, that not everybody there is interested in repentance. The religious elite, the people who have it all figured out, who look down their righteous noses at others, who see themselves as divinely better than all the rest–they are there, too. Matthew says they have come to be baptized like all the other people. John calls them a brood of vipers. I wonder today: Have you ever met that brood?