From the Ground We Arise; Acts 9:1-9

 

Rev. George Miller

April 19, 2026

Acts 9:1-9

 

What does it mean to be part of Christianity’s deep soil?  How does Christ as our foundation lead to a church victorious and at rest?

 

Imagine- Spring of 1863, sitting atop a hill in England, with no sense of rush or hurry, looking upon the countryside as the Avon River winds across the land.

 

The view is like one of Karen Papin’s creations- a world soft and alive.  Lime green leaves, emerald grass, and golden buttercups.

 

From this comfy view upon the hilltop, robins hop close by, barn swallows swoop across the water, and skylarks share their songs.

 

From these still waters and green pastures, one’s soul is refreshed as they see women in bonnets walk the paths, farmers mending fences.

 

Sitting on that fresh grass and damp earth are rabbits darting about, a red fox in the distance, cattle grazing, and lambs wobbling alongside their mothers.

 

Centuries old with stories to tell is the Avon River with shifting blues, edges of silver highlights where reeds grow as women kneel on flintstones to wash clothes and fishermen patiently wait for a brown trout to feed their family.

 

The River Avon is not dramatic or demanding, but simply there, reflecting the colors of the world around, a sky of pale blue with drifting clouds and the aroma of woodsmoke from a local home. 

 

This image from 1863 inspired Folliot Pierpont to think about God’s gifts of creation and in the church, so he wrote the lyrics to the hymn “For the Beauty Of The Earth.”

 

“For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies, for the love which from our birth over and around us lies.” 

 

These words appear in our Friendship Hall on the Social Justice bulletin board, lovingly created to celebrate our Earth Care Ministries at St. Lucas UCC.

 

Everyone is encouraged to check out this bulletin board and discover just how much we do here at St. Lucas to care for the earth.  From our recycling of clean paper and cardboard (no pizza grease) to composting leftover food and coffee grounds, from collecting batteries and ink cartridges, to things you’d never think of, like the glass from airfreshner plugins and empty potato chip bags.

 

Earth Care is not just a form of ministry, it is a form of worship- through action, giving thanks to God for all the gifts of creation.

 

Every time we recycle, every time we compost or bring in an empty shampoo bottle, we are saying our own kind of “Alleluia!”

 

For the Beauty of the Earth, Lord of all, to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise…How fitting, as Earth Day is April 22 and Forrest Park is having their own special celebration the 25-26.

 

How fitting, since today’s reading is all about the earth, the ground; and how an encounter with the soil can change your entire world.

 

Here we have Saul, so angry and judgmental, breathing hate upon the people he dislikes, having them dragged out of homes and put into chains.  He is on his way to self-righteously hurt a community when the unexpected happens.

 

He has an experience with the Resurrected Christ, falls to the ground, and when he stands up from the dirt, he is a changed man.

 

It can make one wonder- is this story of Saul meant to mirror the story of Creation?

 

Acts 9 and Genesis 1 have at least 4 things in common: breathing and ground, light, and words.

 

Acts 9 tells us Saul is breathing threats of murder; in Genesis 1 God’s breath sweeps over the waters.  Paul’s breath brings chaos and death.  God’s breath brings order and life.

 

Then we have the ground.  After a bright light, Paul falls to the ground, hears words of the Lord, and from the ground he gets up.

 

In Greek, the word ground is pronounced “gayn” or “gays,” it can mean earth, land, soil, and sometimes region or territory.

 

So whoever put together this version of the Bible we use had to decide- does Paul fall to the earth, to the land, to the soil, or to the ground? 

 

Each word can create a different emotion and understanding, especially knowing that this is the same word used in the Greek version of Genesis 1&2 when God creates the earth, and forms “man from dust of the ground...”

 

Creation begins with God’s breath, resulting in life emerging from the soil.  Saul’s transformation and welcome into the Christian community begins with him breathing death, being brought down to the earth and up.

 

Genesis shows the beginning of a new experience through the persons of Eve and Adam; Acts shows the beginnings of a revolutionary movement through Saul and Christ Resurrected.

 

In both stories, from the earth, from the land, from the soil, from the ground new life emerges and blesses the world.

 

We could talk about how the light that flashes around Paul and the words he hears could relate to the light and words of Creation.  But let’s focus on the earth, and the “what can we take away?”

 

Saul doesn’t just fall to the ground and get back, Saul begins the process of becoming part of the deep, rich soil of Christian faith. 

 

Saul becomes like a “Glory of the Snow bulb” planted in soil, blind and vulnerable, emerging new and transformed, finding his way into other gardens where he shares the Good News of Jesus Christ.

 

Today’s scripture isn’t just about how the experience of Christ changed one man, but how it connects us to the beginning, it connects us to the ground, it connects us to the dust we come from and the dust we shall return. 

 

This is another story of legacy, heritage, and hope. 

 

Just as St. Lucas was forged out of limestone from the earth, Saul emerged from the ground, forever different and inspired.

 

So as we prepare to honor Earth Day, as we continue to compost our cups and plates, bring in our socks and empty cleaning bottles, let us know that we’re not separate from the earth, but we are forever connected to and a part of it.

 

Genesis 1 and Acts 9 reminds us, our connection to the earth is deep, it is real, and it is eternal; forever intertwined in God.

 

For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies, let us each be our own best version of ourselves, knowing that what we breathe makes a difference. 

 

How we treat the earth is a form of praise and worship to our living, breathing, still Speaking God. 

 

For that, let us say “Amen.”

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.”