Peace Victorious; Sermon for April 12, 2026; John 20:19-28

 

Rev. George Miller

April 12, 2026

John 20:19-28

 

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been intrigued by this verse- “And the great Church victorious shall be the church at rest” from “The Church’s One Foundation.”

 

It sounds like an oxymoron; a paradox. Like saying “The more I learn the less I know.”

 

Who would ever think that rest can equal victory; that calm can be the conqueror?

 

Perhaps we can.  As Children of the Resurrection.  As recipients of the Holy Spirit.  As the forgiven and the lost sheep that was found.

 

Last week we came to the tomb and stood in the garden with Mary Magdelene.  Now we stand with the disciples, so afraid.

 

Though the doors were locked, that did not stop Christ from entering their existence.

 

And instead of the Resurrected One saying “What’s wrong with you?” or “Snap out of it!”, Christ says what they most need to hear- “Peace be with you.”

 

Here the disciples are, lost in a valley of fear and confusion, and their greatest hope appears in a way that defies logic and speaks these words “Peace be with you.”

 

It’s like Genesis when God says “Let there be light” and the waters find their place.

 

“Peace be with you” and “Let there be light” are so similar in the calm they can create.

 

“Let there be light” brings order to unknown chaos.  “Peace be with you” brings comfort to a situation that feels out of control.

 

Christ says these words of peace- though he was the one betrayed, denied, and abandoned.  Though resurrected, Christ still bears the marks of where he was wounded.

 

Instead of allowing his wounds to lash out and hurt everyone in that space, Christ uses those wounds as incarnate understanding.

 

“Peace be with you,” he says.  The disciples rejoice.  “Peace be with you,” he says again.

 

This is not a peace that implies laying around or to stop evolving.  This is a peace that will empower the disciples to go out,  forgive, be the hands and feet of Christ, and for  Peter to feed his sheep.

 

This peace that Jesus talks about is a calm that comes from the kingdom; a sense of peace that comes from a focus on who one is and what they are gifted to do.

 

I’s a peace that says “The storm is over, discover what the rain has made.”

 

When studying the words of scholars, there was one writer who said closed doors no longer matter to Christ because “he is the door.”  Jesus is the door through which we can enter and experience all that God has promised.

 

Upon reading these words, an image appeared in my mind- a bridge.  Imaging Jesus as a bridge; a bridge over troubled waters.

 

All the verses in John that reference H20- the Wedding, Jacob’s Well, the Bethzatha pool.

The walking on water, the tears Jesus weeps, the feet he washes.  The Living Water he speaks of to the Samaritan Woman and Festival Crowds.

 

So many ways Christ is a bridge for us.  When we’re weary.  When we’re full of tears we cannot shed. When situations are too much and friends seem too few.

 

These feelings the disciples may have felt hidden in that locked room unsure about tomorrow. 

 

Imagine the storms that raged inside them; the worries they feared.  Then Christ Resurrected appears before them and the 1^st thing he says is “Peace.”

 

Peace, as in comfort and calm.  Peace, as in lying down in green pastures and being lead beside still waters.  Peace, as in a table prepared and a cup overflowing.

 

It is from this peace that Christ grounds them, centers them, and sends them out into the world.

 

It is from this peace that Christ invites them to receive the Holy Spirit and it is from this Peace that he encourages them to forgive.

 

It is from this peace that Thomas is able to believe.  It is from this place of peace that Simon is told to tend and feed the sheep.

 

As descendants of the disciples, we also have been given a legacy of peace.  We get to choose every day to receive it and remember what it means.

 

When we allow this peace to wash over and inhabit us, we find ways to live so that we can tend, we can feed, we can forgive, not because we must, but because we may.

 

Christ Resurrected is our way, is our door, and he can also be our bridge. 

 

The Peace of Christ gives us peace and rest, so that we can dream, we can feel at ease, we can be victorious.

 

For that, let us say “Amen.”

Easter Message for April 5, 2026

 

Rev. George Miller

April 5, 2026

John 20:1-18

 

2 weeks ago Viktor experienced his 1^st  tornado warning, hearing  the alarms, asking what to do.  So different from Florida where hurricanes come with days of warning and an ETA.

 

Florida does have tornadoes, but they are often a byproduct of hurricanes.  Sometimes a random storm does appear and do some damage.

 

That happened in April of 2022.  I was living in Florida when a storm ripped through the county like a dragon.

 

Larry, a member of the church I served, lived in a park that was hit with softball sized hail.  Larry is a modern-day hippie with long hair who unapologetically displays the PRIDE flag for all to see.

 

His neighborhood experienced the worst non-hurricane damage  I’d seen.  Branches down.  Shiny sport cars with cracked windshields.  Metal awnings with holes punched through.

 

Homes of elderly residents with five, seven, ten broken windows.  Blue tarps on roofs and plywood covering sides of building.

 

Larry, with his hippie hair and rainbow tattoo was there with a group of men cleaning up.  A Case Tractor picking up debris, homes powerwashed, chainsaws cutting through wood, folk walking down the street with leaf blowers.  Women cleaning their yard.

 

There was Larry, helping out, saying hello to everyone, checking to see how neighbors were, representing himself and the UCC so very well.

 

I went to Larry’s neighborhood unprepared to see the devastation, but was uplifted by the camaraderie.

 

Something tragic had happened, yet here were these people that came together, straight and gay, south and north, old and older, fellowshipping and empowering one another.

 

Talk about picking up your mat to walk.  How life can continue by the coming together of people and not by the tearing apart.

 

Larry’s neighbors experienced a great storm in the evening, but by the light of a new day, camaraderie and teamwork came their way.  There was laughter, jokes, encouraging words, acts of unselfishness and generosity.

 

Is this part of what the Resurrection is about?  Is this sense of coming together an aspect of Easter joy?

 

Camaraderie.  Community.  Coming together.  Being brave and moving on.

 

In John’s Gospel, we see people being scared and scattered.  Peter denies following Jesus.  Mary comes to the garden alone.  The disciples fearfully hide behind locked doors.

 

The storm of Crucifixion hailed  down upon them, making everything seem bleak and impossible.  Jesus had been betrayed, shamed, and silenced…or so the authorities thought.

 

What the Roman occupiers didn’t realize, and the Temple Priests forgot,

is that God cannot be silenced.  The Gospel cannot be stopped.  The holiness that dwelled within Jesus could not be discarded.

 

Though Friday was bleak and Saturday seemed to last forever, Sunday arrived and God re-created the world.

 

This re-creation, this Resurrection caused a stronger, braver community.

 

Mary sees the stone rolled away, makes haste to the disciples to tell them the news.

 

Later, she stands in the garden, weeping tears.  Distraught; by herself.

She hears a voice call out her name; discovers she is not so alone nor abandoned, but Jesus is right there.

 

God turns the storm of crucifixion into the reuniting of dear friends.

 

Later in chapter 20, the disciples are behind closed doors, afraid like sheep caught in a storm.  Will they be next? 

 

Jesus appears to them, calming their emotional storm.  He says “Peace be with you” and breathes upon them the Breath of Life.

 

In chapter 21, they continue  their healing process as Christ appears to them by the shore and fills this circle of fishermen,  tax collectors and doubters with bread and fresh fish, telling Peter to “feed the sheep.”

 

The Resurrection of Christ creates a revived community that learns to live, lead, and to love by his example.

 

Each of them is empowered to feed, care, and bring wellness. 

 

Each person is filled with the Holy Spirit to be just, kind, and walk humbly with God.

 

Folk wrestle with the Resurrection: how did it happen,  what does it mean?

 

Today, after all we’ve witnessed in the world, let us celebrate how the Resurrection can be about God creating community.

 

How God can turn a tragedy into an opportunity for folk to come together.

 

How God can take a senseless act of cruel death and find a way to bring about a sense of bravery and hope, a sense of unity, and a way to reach out to the lost sheep.

 

The Resurrection’s meaning may be different to you; next year it could mean something different to me, but today I like to think how Jesus Christ, even when faced with death, is able to unite, empower, offer peace.

 

By the Resurrection, God reminds us that we are part of something bigger and better than ourselves and our differences.

 

For that, let us say, Amen.

Lent Reflection for April 1 2026- Psalm 23

 

Rev. George Miller

April 1, 2026

Psalm 23

 

Beloved, for many weeks, we have come together in person and on-line, confronting and living with an honest, vulnerable line from Isaiah: “All we like sheep have gone astray.”

 

Not some of us. Not the folk who disagree with us.  All of us.

 

We have wandered; we have been distracted.  We have followed wrong paths with briars and thorns or paths of false promises of an oasis and things we think we need.  Sometimes we have simply felt tired and lost our way.

 

But tonight, as we come to our final Wednesday night, we receive something beautiful- Psalm 23.

 

It’s as if Psalm 23 answers the question Isaiah placed before us.  If we are sheep who wander, who is guiding us home???

 

Psalm 23 begins with words that many here tonight could recite by heart: The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

 

Now notice something.  The psalm does not say:

“The Lord is my security system” or “The Lord is my GPS.”

 

No. The Lord is my shepherd, a unique kind of relationship.

 

A shepherd does not control sheep with fear. A shepherd walks with them; watches them.  A shepherd notices when one starts drifting toward the edge of the field.

 

A shepherd learns the personalities of the flock, and loves them.  The bold ones. The timid ones. The curious ones. And yes…the stubborn ones.

 

 

Psalm 23 describes what the shepherd does- He makes me lie down in green pastures.

 

I resonate with that line.

 

Sheep will not lie down unless they feel safe.

 

If they are anxious, if they sense danger, if they feel unsettled, they stay on their feet. But when they trust the shepherd, they rest.

 

They rest. 

 

Like the hymn we’ve been singing, “The Church’s One Foundation” that  features the lyric  “And the great Church victorious shall be the church at rest.”

 

Which is such a gentle reflection and invitation of Lent: to stop striving for a moment; to stop carrying the whole world.

 

To simply allow ourselves to rest in the presence of God.

 

Psalm 23 is honest. It does not pretend life is all green pastures and still waters. The psalmist says “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

 

Notice something important.  It’s not an if, but more of a when.

Because valleys happen.  Grief happens.  Uncertainty happens.  Moments come when we can’t see the path clearly, shadows feel long, we wonder if we’ve wandered too far.

 

But the psalm gives us this thought: “For you are with me.”

 

Not watching from a distance.

Not sending instructions from heaven.  But with us.

In the valley.

In the shadows.

In the wandering.

 

This is where Psalm 23 begins to lean toward Good Friday.

Because the Christian story tells us that The Good Shepherd does not remain safely on the hillside.

 

In Jesus, the shepherd walks into the valley, into suffering, into injustice, into death itself, so that nothing, not even the darkest valley, can separate us from God.

 

Note how the psalm ends at a table.  When someone prepares a table for you, it means something- you are welcomed, you are wanted, you are protected.

 

Psalm 23 says God does just that.

Even when the world is chaotic, God prepares a table.

 

Even when we have wandered, God prepares a table.

 

Even when life feels uncertain, God prepares a table.

 

And we know that table. It’s the table of grace. The table of forgiveness. The table where Christ says, “Come and eat.”

 

So tonight, as we come toward the end of Lent, we remember two truths.

 

Yes, Isaiah was right- “All we like sheep have gone astray.”  And Psalm 23 reminds us of the second truth- We are not wandering alone, because the shepherd keeps walking, searching, and guiding.

 

The Good Shepherd keeps setting the table where Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

 

St. Lucas UCC- the story of the sheep is not just about being lost.

It is about being guided home.

 

And that is the good news, for that is where we find rest, and where we find heavenly victory.

 

For that, let us say “Amen.”

Let the 99 plus 1 Shout "Hosanna!"; March 29, 2026 Sermon

 

Rev. George Miller

March 29, 2026

John 12: 1-19

 

Throughout Lent we have focused on Isaiah 53- “All we like sheep that have gone astray”.

 

This verse highlights our humanness; to make mistakes, to sin, to hurt and be hurt, to wander from God and turn to self-seeking pastures.

 

In our day-to-day lives it is so easy to make unwise decisions, become easily distracted, lose our focus on the Kingdom Of God and what it means to be a Citizen of Heaven.

 

But this morning, we discover that though all we like sheep have gone astray, today we come together.

 

Today we unite as the 99 plus 1 to sing and shout “Hosanna!”  Today we become the 100 sheep who smile, cheer, celebrate and welcome-

 

The Great Shepherd, Water Into Wine Maker,  Jacob’s Well Talker,

Pick-Up-Your-Mat, Sight Giver-

Jesus Christ; Heavenly Servant, KING.

 

After 3 years of water-based ministry,

3 years of mountaintop feeding,

3 years of restoring relationships,

 

Jesus, Emmanuel, The Living I AM,

has made his way into Jerusalem to face the powers that be, experience injustice, and to rise from the grave,

 

Proving once and for all that:

-The Word cannot be silenced or censored; The Word cannot be scared off or destroyed.

 

While people thinks power can only come from mighty steeds and weapons of mass destruction, Jesus shows what God can do with tree branches, a humble donkey, songs of praise, and a people who believe.

 

In a world that says power comes

from more more more, Jesus embodies the Kingdom of God that thrives on compassion and humility.

 

In a world that says in order to be successful you must be eating steak and lobster, Jesus says that a loaf of bread and a few fish that’s shared is enough.

 

The actions of Jesus today shows that humility is strength and joy is a balm to the weary soul.

 

That songs of Hosanna can drown out the doubt of naysayers.

 

Jesus, on a borrowed donkey,

Welcomed with palms plucked  from the side of the road, Jesus is more King than Ceasar on a mighty horse, or Pilate with his massive army.

 

Today is the day in which we join with the great crowd of witnesses: all those who came before, all those who are here now, and all those who will come after, to shout and sing in song and action “Hosanna!”   

 

Today is the day we say- “Do not be afraid, no matter what happens next, do not be discouraged; do not lose heart. Because the Dawning of the New Age is just about to begin.”

 

While entering the city, Jesus doesn’t say a single Word; he doesn’t have to

because for 3 years his words, his actions, has said it all.

 

So let us take a cue from Jesus.  As Psalm 118 says- “Let us give thanks to the Lord, for God is so good.”

 

Let us give thanks to the Lord, for God’s steadfast love endures forever.

 

In our distress, we have called upon the Lord, and God has answered.

 

With the Lord on our side,

What can mortals do to us?

 

With the Lord on our side,

We can look around in triumph.

 

Blessed is the one who comes

In the name of The Lord,

 

The Lod is God,

And God has given us light.

 

In other words,

Today we are not afraid to feel good.  Today we do not apologize

for being happy.

 

And for that, we can say

“Hosanna,” “Hosanna,”

“Amen.”

Lent Reflection for March 25, 2026; Isaiah 53:6

 

Rev. George Miller

March 25, 2026

Isaiah 53:6

 

“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own way, and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

 

Isaiah gives us such an honest line of scripture.  Not one of the most triumphant or prettiest, but honest.  “All we like sheep have gone astray.”  Not some of us. Not the bad folk.  Not those who vote or believe differently.

All of us; every last wandering, distracted, complicated human.

 

We’ve heard Michele talk about sheep; here’s something else to say- sheep are not rebellious in the dramatic way we may imagine.

 

They don’t wake up, hit  Snooze and say,  "You know what? Today I think I’ll intentionally create chaos and destroy The Shepherd’s Plan." 

 

No.  Sheep wander.  They get lost in thought; lost in hunger.  They see a patch of grass, then another patch.  Then suddenly they look up and realize “Hey!  Where’s the flock?”

 

That’s usually how we go astray.

Not through some dramatic moment of intentional evil. But through small turns.

 

One distraction or worry. One resentment we didn’t deal with or moment we forgot who we are.

 

Before we know it, we look up and say: “How did I end up all the way out here?” 

 

And here’s what Isaiah knows-Being lost isn’t just about bad behavior.  Sometimes it’s about being tired.

 

Sometimes it’s about being hurt or carrying grief so long you stop noticing where you're walking.

 

Sometimes it’s about trying to carry the world on your shoulders.

 

Isaiah looks at humanity and says:

“Every single one of us has had that moment.” 

 

And the heart of this passage is not the wandering; the heart of the passage is what God does with it.

Isaiah says: “The Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

 

The word iniquity can sound heavy.  But it really means the weight of human brokenness.

The mistakes and harm. The pain we cause and inherit. The pain we carry.

 

Isaiah says that somehow, someway, God does something astonishing:  God does not leave us alone with it.

 

We see this in the life of Jesus.  Jesus steps into the human story, born in that manger, not to shame us or to say, “You sheep should have tried harder.” But to say-

 

"I will walk into the wilderness with you. I will carry what you cannot carry. I will stand where the lost stand."

 

This is why Lent is so personal.  Lent is not about beating ourselves up.  It is about telling the truth about our wandering.

 

The truth about our distractions.

The truth about our hurts and the hows that we have lost our way.

 

But also the truth that God keeps walking toward us.  Every time.

 

People don’t usually wander or get lost because they’re evil; they wander because they’re human.

 

Because they’re searching; they’re hurting.  Because sometimes life knocks the wind out of you and you lose the map.

 

But the gospel says something extraordinary:  Even when we wander, we are not abandoned.

Even when we lose the path, the shepherd is moving toward us.

 

Perhaps tonight that’s the word someone needs to hear.  You might feel like you’re a long way from where you’re supposed to be, emotionally, spiritually.

 

But the good news of Isaiah and of Lent is that God is not waiting at the finish line shaking God’s  head.

 

God is already walking the hills looking for you.  Because in God’s Kingdom of God, the story of the sheep is never just about being lost.

 

It’s about being found.  For that, let us all say “Amen.”