Wednesday, March 11, 2026

Hungry; Lent Reflection for Wednesday March 11 2026

 

Rev. George Miller

March 11, 2026

Ezekiel 34:11-16

 

“All we like sheep that have gone astray…”  One of the realities of feeling lost, or having gone astray, is the hunger one can feel.

 

For those that have been gone from home, there is the hunger of missing simple nourishment- juice, bread, meat.

 

Then there is the missing of the food that nourishes not just our body but our memories- smell of coffee in the morning, sound of bacon sizzling, the casserole Mom made that incorporated left-over elements that somehow felt lush and kingly, the Thanksgiving Turkey and Easter ham.

 

There is the missing nourishment of that which feeds our souls- the goodnight kisses, the memories of Christmas Eve services, the shared viewings of favorite movies or singing songs.

 

Each of have our own unique experience of what it means to be “home.”  Therefore, each of us have our own experience of what it means to be far from home, or scattered, or lost.

 

Each of us know a family member or friend who has been like a lost sheep.  Each of us have known what it is like for our mistakes and sins to make us feel like we may be apart from the flock.

 

How many tonight have known what it is like to feel far from home, to feel that sense of scatteredness, or to even feel lost?

 

So lost that you hunger.  You hunger for the simple things.

You hunger for the memories; that what-used-to-bes, that moment when things felt just right.

 

The people of Isreal knew that feeling all too well.  During the Exile, they experienced loss in their homes, experienced loss of their Temple, loss of their favorite food and common sights.

 

In that loss, they felt they were indeed the lost and forgotten sheep, and would often wonder- “Where are you God?” 

 

That question becomes one of the biggest hungers we can have- Where are you God?

 

Tonight we admit that we have hungered or are currently hungering.

 

Tonight, Ezekiel challenges us to feel what it is like to be unsorted, scattered in days of clouds and thick darkness, to be broken and injured, in need of rescue and tired, just so tired. 

 

And hungry, oh so hungry.  Hungry for that which feeds our body, our memory, and our spirits.

 

Are all we like sheep; sheep that have gone astray, and if so- what is to become of us?  Tonight we sit in that question; tonight we endure the discomfort.

 

This is the season we wonder and wade through the unknown, hoping, praying that the Good Shepherd has not forgotten us; that one day we too will rejoice that the lost one has been found.     Amen.

Friday, March 6, 2026

We Are More Than Just 1 Fire; John 18:12-27

 

Rev. George Miller

March 8, 2026

John 18:12-27

 

Here we are, in a garden.  A garden we have been to so many times before.  The garden Jesus would take us as he prayed.

 

There are pops of color from scattered wildflowers- yellow daises, blue lupines.

 

We stand with Jesus in this garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives. 

 

Rocky limestone, ancient olive trees that have seen so much history, and a dry creek bed awaiting the winter rains.

 

We are among trees that are centuries old with silvery-green leaves and twisted trunks.

 

Jesus is there, standing on dusty ground, no weapon.  Just words and a lust for life and love for God’s kingdom.

 

But that does not stop Jesus from being betrayed, arrested, bound, and taken before authorities.

 

Into this place of white lilies and ancient olive trees, where we often went with Jesus to seek sanctuary and connection with God, we now have violence, injustice, and rage entering in which no one, not even the Son of God is safe.

 

What a long way from the manger of Bethlehem in which the Baby Jesus was greeted with gold, frankincense, and myrh.

 

Now he is greeted with betrayal, brutality, and rough, scratchy ropes to bind him.

 

From the safety of the garden we now stand outside the gates in the dark of night, with only a coal fire to keep us warm.

 

But even there, we are not safe.

 

While Jesus is before the High Priest, Peter is amongst the slaves, servants and first responders.

 

He is vulnerable.  If anyone notices who he is, and who he hangs out with, he too can be arrested and brought before the corrupt leaders.

 

It is not long before a woman catches on.  “You’re one of his, aren’t you?”

 

Peter is too afraid to tell the truth.

 

To understand the enormity of this moment is to realize that Peter is with people who are on the outside of the gates. 

 

He is not with the popular or powerful; he is not with the cool or the commanders.

 

He is among servants and slaves who would be socially seen as less than.  He is questioned by a woman who would’ve had no say in a court of law, who would have been seen as beneath him.  Yet he is sooo scared that he has to lie to this female servant outside the gates to feel safe.

 

If we ever wondered how dangerous it is, and was, to truly follow Jesus, this moment tells us all. 

 

By a charcoal fire Peter feels so unsafe that he denies being a disciple not once, not twice, but three times.

 

To deny Jesus is a painful thing.  To know what is right, but to choose what is wrong. 

 

To dishonor a part of who we are; to discredit the legacy we belong to. 

 

How much this must have hurt Peter; how much as this moment he must have felt like that lost sheep that has gone astray.

 

How much, by the charcoal fire outside the gates, did Peter wonder “Will the Lord forgive me?  Will I ever be welcomed back in?”

 

…fortunately it would take just a few days for Peter to find the answer, and the answer is “Yes.”

 

For after the torture of Good Friday and the silence of Saturday, we are told in John 19 that Christ is Resurrected and appears to the people.  First to Mary, then to the disciples, then to Thomas, saying word of “Peace” and talk of forgiveness.

 

Then, in John 21:9-20, we have this scene.  It is daylight.  Jesus is on the shore.  He stands beside a charcoal fire.  He invites them to eat; to have breakfast.  He nourishes them with bread and fills them with freshly caught fish.

 

Then, besides that charcoal fire by the water, Jesus engages Peter in conversation.

 

The very one who denied following Jesus in the dead of night beside a charcoal fire, is now standing with the Resurrected Lord in broad daylight, with a new kind of charcoal flames.

 

What does the Resurrected Christ say to Peter?  Does he condemn him?  Fill him with feelings of shame?

 

Does Christ say to Peter “I don’t know you?”  or “Damn it all to hell?”

 

No.  By the charcoal’s light, Jesus says “Simon, son of John, do you love me? Feed my lambs.”

 

Note how Jesus calls him by his new name.

 

By the charcoal fire, Jesus says “Simon, son of John, do you love me?  Tend my sheep.”

 

Though Peter denied being a follower of Jesus three times, the Resurrected Christ acknowledges a 3rd time who Peter is.  “Do you love me?  Feed my sheep.”

 

If there is one lesson for us to glean today is that Christ does not see us and judge us from one moment.  Christ sees and knows us from the complexity of all we are and all we have been through.

 

How easy it would have been for Peter to forever be associated with the words of denial he said by the charcoal fire, but instead we have Christ pointing forward to who he is and what he is capable of doing.

 

This is a special moment because we have get to glimpse others through heaven’s eyes.  That we are more than a moment, we are more than a poorly made decision, we are more than what we do when afraid.

 

We discover that Jesus can see the totality of who we are.  Where we come from.  To whom we belong.  What we have done.  What we are capable of doing.

 

It is so easy to fall in love with this idea that Christ does not judge us once and for all based on one thing or one chapter of our lives.

 

Instead Christ is engaged with all that we do and all aspects of our existence. 

 

In Christ we see that one fire does not define us or limit our place in the Kingdom.

 

In Christ we see that though we all may be sheep who can go astray, the Lord is willing and able to meet us where we are and continue the relationship.

 

So this Season of Lent, when we falter and fall, when we do what we should not, may we look towards our brother, Simon Peter, and know that in Christ we are indeed given that first, that second, that third chance, and many, many more. 

 

Amen.

"All We Like Sheep" Lenten Reflection from March 4, 2026

 

Rev. George Miller

March 4, 2026

Luke 15:1-7

 

Last week we continued our path to Jerusalem, to the Cross, aware of our mortality, our brokenness, our tragic mistakes.

 

Feeling lost, feel scared, wondering “Does God care?”  “Does God know?”  “Will Heaven’s eyes smile upon me.”

 

“All we like sheep that have gone astray?”

 

Tonight we continue to think of that one; the missing of the 99 sheep, as told in Luke.

 

Luke sets this reading amongst the despised and the dejected of the world- the tax collectors who made their wealth off the suffering and hard work of others, and the sinners who keep making tragic mistakes, poor decisions, hurting others and hurting themselves.

 

In the eyes of the corrupt religious leaders and egotistical scholars, they are seen as less than; nothing; worthless.

 

But not to Jesus.  Jesus sits amongst them; right with them.  Locking eyes; seeing their faces; creating welcoming space.

 

Jesus, knowing that how the world sees them can affect how they see themselves, he tells them this loving parable.

 

He crafts an image of God as the one who searches, finds, lifts up, carries, and rejoices.

 

Not scold.  Not say “See, I told you.”

 

But, rejoices.  Gives thanks.  Smiles. Sing.  Celebrates.

 

How many tonight feel weighed down by the weight of their sins?  How many feel a burden from the mistakes they have made?

 

How many wonder tonight “If those around me knew who I really am, what I think, and have done would still want to sit beside me?”

 

How many have that hidden secret?  Or that feeling of shame over a sin you may have knowingly or unknowingly done?

 

We all do.  For to be human is to err.  To be human is to make mishaps.

 

But to be a Christian is to know that our wrongs do not have to keep us from Christ; to know that our sins do not single us out.

 

It is true, that all we like sheep have gone astray from time to time, but it does not mean we have to stay astray.

 

For in Jesus we have the Good Shepherd who will come in our most sinful moment to seek, find, lift-up, carry, and rejoice.

 

Jesus rejoices; so all we like sheep can rejoice as well.       Amen.

Wednesday, February 25, 2026

Honoring Dr. Will Grant Battle

 

Rev. George Miller

Feb 25, 2026

Matthew 18:10-14

 

Last week in Minneapolis was the funeral for Dr. Willa Grant Battle, the single most influential person in my faith journey.  She died at the age 101. 

 

Last September, I got to sit beside her and preach before her at Grace Temple Deliverance church, where I attended in my 20’s.

 

One thing about Dr. Battle is that although she was instrumental in Civil Rights and ran a mission in Haiti for 8 decades, when she preached it was about you, it was about us, it was about overcoming mountains, confronting ego, and finding healing in the Lord.

 

Her message was to those who felt like lost sheep.  Or a tired sheep.  Or a sheep facing dark valleys.

 

Dr. Battle’s message was consistent- God is good.  In Christ we are saved, redeemed, and welcomed in the Tent of the Lord.

 

Thank God for Dr. Willa Grant Battle who ministered from the 1950’s to 2026 reminding everyone who entered Grace Temple that God’s eye is on the sparrow, which means that God’s eye is on you and you and you.

 

This is a lovely message as we continue our Lenten walk to Jerusalem.  The theme is “All We Like Sheep” from Isaiah 53:6.

 

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

 

All we like sheep have gone astray.

 

And we hear Jesus say in Mathew 18 “Guess what- the eyes of heaven are upon you.  If a shepherd has 100 sheep and one goes astray, the Shepherd will go into the mountains and valleys, the shadows and thorns, and search for the one who has gone astray.”

 

It is a beautiful image.  To think that God loves us that much. 

 

To know that when we have those moments where we lose our way or we get caught up in the briars and thorns, that God will seek us out, and we are found.

 

Tonight we are going to do a reflection. 

 

Think of a time in your own life where you went astray….

 

Now, think of someone you know who is currently like that sheep who has gone astray…

 

Take a moment.

 

Say their name in your mind.

 

Cover your heart and say their name again. 

 

Now imagine that wherever they are, whatever they are going through, the Good Shepherd is coming to them, ready to lift them up, to carry them, if they are willing and ready.

 

Now let us take a moment of silent prayer to lift that person up…

 

Tonight we continue our path to Jerusalem, aware of our mortality, our brokenness, our tragic mistakes.

 

Knowing what it is like to feel lost, to feel scared and to wonder “Does God care?”

 

“Does God know?”

 

“Will Heaven’s eyes smile upon me.”

 

“All we like sheep?”

 

Amen. 

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

Tears Of Christ; Tears of Community- John 11:1-3, 17-35

 

Rev. George Miller

Feb 22, 2026

John 11:1-3; 17-35

 

In a little bit we will hear a word from Andrew as he shares about the Ukraine people and community he cares so much about.

 

Andrew cares so much that it moved him months ago to do a presentation.  Because of YOUR feedback, he’s been inspired to create a fundraising opportunity that we can all engage in.

 

Community.  What a special and important word.  A word and concept that moves Jesus to tears.

 

Today we have a familiar tale of death and restored life.  Lazarus, a beloved friend of Jesus dies, and it does not just affect Jesus, or the Martha and Mary sisters, it affects all those around and knew him.

 

It is four days after Lazarus died.  Though Jesus is aware that he could be captured and killed at any moment, he travels from the Jordan (where he was baptized), to Bethany, 3 miles from where he will be crucified.

 

Martha greets him with grief “Lord, if you had been here…”

 

Mary immediately gets up and quickly goes to him, kneels, and weeps.  Jesus looks around and sees those around her are weeping.

 

These are not just silent tears or polite boohoos; these are full drops of sadness complete with moaning and groaning.

 

These tears of Mary and the community are expressions of external sorrow with wailing, chants, calling of the Lost’s name, rocking of bodies, beating of chests.  Emotional, embodied, real.

 

Think of how much we’ve discussed about water in the Gospel of Luke.  The Wedding.  The Well.  The pool. The spit.

 

Now we add the tears; waters from the eyes that embody hurt.

 

What does Jesus do?  What does Emmanuel, “God With Us,” the Lord Incarnate do when surrounded by Mary and all the people sobbing and weeping?

 

He weeps too.  Jesus also weeps.

 

Mary and her community weep in their brokenness, and in response to their brokenness, Jesus weeps.

 

The tears of Jesus are a sign of compassion, empathy, and mourning with us.

 

Jesus, who we met as a babe in the manger, embodies who God is, and what we witness right here is the holy water of heavenly tears that let us know that our God is a God who cares, and feels, and is moved by human emotion.

 

How powerful this is.  That Jesus shows to us a God who is not distant or aloof, uncaring, or unmoved.

 

So today, as we acknowledge the 4 years of war between the Ukraine and Russia, as we hear about those in Kieve who are dealing with harsh cold, we hear of children separated from families, let us imagine the tears of Jesus.

 

Let us know that without a doubt the Lord is crying for the loss of life and property, family and community that takes place anywhere there is war.

 

All we like sheep may sit in our despair and the despair of others, but may be find that the tears of our Incarnate God give us comfort among the mountains of Zion, the rivers of Jordan, and any place where community grieves together.

 

As we prepare to listen to Andrew, may we know that the Lord is listening too.

 

Amen.