Monday, June 1, 2026

Becoming an Acts 6 Church: A Vision for Trinity to Complain About This Coming Year ~ Acts 6:1-7

 

“In those days when the number of disciples was increasing, the Hellenistic Jews among them complained against the Hebraic Jews because their widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food.” — Acts 6:1

Anyone who’s been in church long enough knows this truth: eventually, someone complains. Usually we treat complaints like threats. Like grenades thrown into the life of the church. We brace ourselves. Defend ourselves. Explain ourselves. Fight. Flee. Shut it down. But Acts 6 gives us a surprisingly different picture. The early church doesn’t grow despite complaints. It grows through them. Complaints become the doorway to deeper ministry, wider participation, and greater faithfulness.

So here’s the challenge before Trinity this year: What if the future of our church depends not on silencing complaints—but on listening for the Spirit within them? What if some complaints are not distractions from ministry but invitations into it? And what if the church in Acts 6 became our model for real ministry? What might that look like?

Acts 6 Churches Complain About Real Need

In Acts 6, Greek-speaking widows are being neglected in the daily distribution of food. Not inconvenienced. Not overlooked accidentally. Neglected. And the church does something remarkable: they tell the truth about it. A minority group names a real injustice, and the apostles do not minimize it, spin it, or bury it. They listen.

Friends, I have seen us becoming that kind of Acts 6 church. I saw it when people in this congregation became weary of toxic politics poisoning relationships, distorting Christian witness, and discipling people more deeply than Jesus. A few brave people complained—and instead of ignoring it, they created space for honest conversation, prayer, and reconciliation.

I saw it when members of this church looked around Salem and complained that families living below the poverty line were drowning financially with nowhere to turn. And that complaint became a free tax-preparation ministry that served our neighbors with dignity and practical care.

I saw it when people noticed families losing SNAP benefits and struggling to put food on the table. They complained that people were being neglected—and that complaint became partnership, food distribution, and shared ministry with Queen of Peace Catholic Church.

Again and again, I’ve seen this truth: complaining does not disqualify us. Silence does. A Spirit-filled church is not a church without problems. It is a church courageous enough to face them honestly. Because if we cannot name our failures, our needs, we cannot make a difference.

Acts 6 Churches Critique Themselves From the Inside

Notice something important in Acts 6: the complaint comes from within the church. The people speaking up are not disgruntled detractors. They belong. They love the community enough to tell the truth about it. That is rare. Most institutions protect themselves, get defensive, become better at cancelling complainers than addressing them.

But the early church did something different. When they spoke about sin and failure, they did not point outward and say, “their sin.” They confessed: “our sin” (1 Cor. 15:3). Our neglect. Our blindness. Our responsibility.

So here is the question before us: Can Trinity become the kind of church where people are free to name what is broken without fear? Can we become the kind of church where complaints are not dismissed immediately, but discerned prayerfully? Can we become a people secure enough in grace that we no longer need to pretend?

Because that kind of honesty is evangelistic. It tells the world we are not performing righteousness but truly pursuing it – sometimes failingly, of course, but honestly and persistently.

Acts 6 Churches Empower the Complainers

And here is the most shocking part of the story. The apostles do not merely listen to the complaint. They hand ministry over to the people raising it. “You choose the leaders,” they say.

And who do they choose? The very group that spoke up. That is the turning point of Acts 6. Because complaining by itself is only criticism. But complaint joined with responsibility? That becomes ministry. Some of the most powerful ministry at Trinity this past year was led by people who first complained. They saw something broken. Something neglected. Something hurting. And instead of walking away, they stepped toward it.

So let me ask you directly: What do you want to complain about? Where do you see neglect? What breaks your heart? What frustrates you? Where do you find yourself thinking: “Someone should really do something about this”?

Acts 6 asks a dangerous question: What if that someone is you? Not because you are the loudest voice. Not because you have all the answers. But because the Spirit may be helping you see what all of us must. We do not need more volunteers. We need disciples willing to take responsibility for what God places in front of them. People who will complain. Pray. Discern. And act. That is ministry. That is how the church grows: not when a few exhausted people do everything, but when the whole body becomes responsible for the mission of Jesus together.

The Result: The Church Revives and the Pastor Converts

Acts 6 ends with a surprising detail: A large number of priests begin joining the movement (6:7). Religious professionals start becoming Christians. Why? Because they witnessed something beautiful: a community where ministry was not controlled by a few powerful people, but shared among the whole church. A church where the Spirit moved through ordinary people. A church where people did not merely attend—they took ownership. A church where people did not merely complain—they served.

And friends, I need to tell you something honestly: Your faithfulness has converted me. Your willingness to speak hard truths, start ministries, serve neighbors, and take responsibility has changed how I understand who we are and what we might do. This is the kind of church I don’t simply wish to lead but am proud to belong. Not a church without problems— but a church willing to face them. Not a church afraid of complaints— but a church listening for the Spirit through them. Not a church where a few people carry the ministry— but a church where every member is called into it.

So as we recommit ourselves this year—spiritually, relationally, financially—this is the question before us: Will we remain spectators? Or will we be an Act 6 church of Spirit-filled complainers? A church brave enough to complain, faithful enough to listen, and courageous enough to serve. So complain, if you must. But don’t stop there. Pray. Step in. Take responsibility. Because that’s where the Spirit moves. And that’s how the church becomes good news.

 

Sunday, May 24, 2026

"Grace Upon Grace": A Series Summary for God, According to Jesus ~ John 1:15-18

The Gospel of John opens with thunder and tenderness:

“From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace… No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God, who is in closest relationship with the Father, and has made him known.”

That phrase—"made him known”—is the heart-beat of our series. Jesus’ mission was to save us from sin and death but also to save us from our little “g” gods. His mission was to explain God. Interpret God. Narrate God. Put on flesh and breath and offer the mystery of God. Jesus is God’s self-portrait. God’s autobiography in flesh and blood. If you want to know what God is like, Jesus says: Listen to me and look at me.

And from that fullness receive a God who gives to all grace upon grace. Not one dose. Not one chance. No, grace comes like waves rolling endlessly, unstoppably, onto shore one after another.

And every sermon in this series has really been an invitation into a fresh experience of endless “grace and truth.” That phrase “grace and truth” is incredibly important and reflects the true grammar of grace. It’s a grammatical construction called a hendiadys—a figure of speech where a single complex idea is expressed using two words connected by a conjunction, rather than using one word to modify the other (like “law and order” in English). The term literally means “one through two” in Greek.  That means that Jesus’ revelation of a gracious God is always true and the one true God is always gracious. We are quick to try and divorce these words as if grace is fiction and truth is heartless. Jesus won’t let us. According to the gospel, grace and truth have become one flesh. And what Jesus has joined together let no one put asunder.

Grace and truth #1: According to Jesus, God is not waiting for us to measure up. God comes toward us until we are found. ~ Luke 15:1-2, 11-32

Jesus stands accused in Luke 15 because, according to the religious, “this man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” That’s the scandal. They complained that Jesus’ mission and God were too kind. And Jesus confronts them with stories that aim to dismantle their toxic, little “g” god.

A shepherd searching . . .until he finds the lost sheep.
A woman sweeping . . . until she finds the lost coin.
A father seeking . . . until he finds the lost boy.

And the real shock: the prodigal who is truly sought after is not the rebellious son, but the pious son, the religious one, the one who stayed home, the one who worked hard. According to Jesus, it’s not so much the rebellious who are lost but the religious. Apparently, legalism can estrange us from God under whose roof we live.

And here Jesus makes God known: God is not transactional. God is not a moral scorekeeper. God is not standing at the door with crossed arms. God is the Father who leaves the party to find the lost son. God is the Shepherd muddying his feet. God is the Woman turning the house upside down to find one precious coin. Grace upon grace.

Grace and truth #2: According to Jesus, God’s care is real—and it flows through a graceful kingdom shaped partnership. ~ Matthew 6:25-34

“Look at the birds,” Jesus says. “Consider the lilies,” he persuades, “Aren’t you more valuable then they are?” Creation pulses with divine generosity, beauty, and care. Jesus reveals a God who builds a world soaked in gift. Rain falls. The sun shines. Seeds grow. Flowers bloom and birds eat. Grace upon grace.

But here is the disruptive part: according to Jesus, God cares for us through gift of a gracious kingdom expressed through human partnership.  The kingdom of God is not magic tricks floating above history. It’s a way of organizing life around God’s principles of generosity, justice, prayer, trust, and love.

The early church understood this so deeply that the book of Acts says that because of God’s outpouring of grace, “There were no needy persons among them.” God’s grace moved them from satisfying greed to satisfying need. Because grace had rewired their relationship to possessions.

So God’s care is not merely supernatural mercy but a partnership with people transformed by grace becoming grace for one another, who refuse to look away.

A casserole delivered. A debt forgiven. A protest joined. A burden shared. A hand held in a hospital room at 2 a.m. Tiny loaves. Tiny fishes. Grace upon grace.

Grace and truth #3: According to Jesus, calling God our “Father” means living as if everyone is a sister or brother because God calls everyone daughter and son. ~ Matthew 5:43–48

“You have heard it said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you: love your enemies . . . so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” Why? Because God sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. Which means God’s love is not tribal. The sun does not check political affiliation before rising. Rain does not ask who voted correctly before falling.

Our Father refuses to submit to us vs. them. We want God to take our side. Jesus says God is trying to heal all sides. And Jesus isn’t saying that our love earns us the status of “child of God”—but that it reveals a likeness, “like father, like child.” Jesus demonstrates a Father whose love spills beyond borders, beyond nations, beyond enemies, beyond deservingness itself. And once we understand that God is always a kind Father to everyone, it means that every enemy is always kin. Grace upon grace.

Grace and truth #4: According to Jesus, God doesn’t demand polished prayers or perfect theology. And even when prayers are imperfect God is perfectly good. ~ Luke 18:1–8

In Luke 18 Jesus tells one of the strangest parables in the Gospels: a furious widow, an unjust judge, and a teaching about prayer that sounds more like a fistfight than a bedtime ritual. The widow does not pray politely. She demands. Pushes. Threatens. And the judge finally relents because he fears she might give him a black eye.

And Jesus says: God is not like that judge. That’s the point. You do not have to emotionally blackmail God into loving you. You do not have to beg hard enough, cry dramatically enough, or perform desperation convincingly enough to earn divine attention. Because according to Jesus, prayer is not overcoming God’s reluctance. Prayer is trusting God’s goodness. Grace upon grace.

And yet despite the widow’s violence, Jesus is astonishingly compassionate toward her. Because sometimes prayer is messy. Sometimes our prayers are tangled with rage. Or grief. Or vengeance. Or exhaustion. Sometimes we pray with tears in our eyes and violence in our hearts. And Jesus does not recoil from that honesty. He invites it. Because, for God prayer is not a performance review. Prayer is relationship and God would rather receive an honest wound than a polished lie. The God revealed by Jesus isn’t fragile but absorbs violence rather than returning it. When humanity punches God in the face— God answers with forgiveness.  Because according to Jesus, God is not the exhausted judge behind a locked courtroom door. God is always graciously good.

Grace and truth #5: According to Jesus, God is a generous and nurturing parent who responds to our deepest needs with the gift of Godself. ~ Luke 11:9–13

Pastor Caitlin noted that many of us secretly imagine prayer as trying to pry open the clenched fist of a reluctant God. We ask nervously. Apologetically.
Fearfully. Like children standing outside a locked pantry wondering whether mom is in a good mood today. But Jesus dismantles that withholding image.

“Ask.” “Seek.” “Knock” he encourages. Not because God is hiding. But because God is already leaning toward us and we can trust God. He compares God to a parent responding to a hungry child. If a child asks for bread, will you hand them a stone? If they ask for fish, will you give them a snake? The answer is almost humorous. Of course not. And then Jesus says: “If you, flawed as you are, know how to give good gifts… how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask?” Notice the twist. Jesus does not ultimately say God gives explanations. Or control. Or certainty. Or immediate solutions. God gives God’s own Spirit. Caitlin asked us a provocative question, “What if we imagine that we are not an older child with agency but like an infant against its mother’s chest? What if that’s a more truthful vision of desire and need?”

The infant does not fully understand the world, can’t feed itself, cannot solve hunger or fear or exhaustion. The infant simply desires the healing power of presence. Skin against skin. Heartbeat against heartbeat. Grace upon grace.

And perhaps this is what Jesus is trying to teach us: The deepest answer to prayer isn’t always intervention but is always communion. Not the removal of pain, but the refusal of abandonment. Not always rescue from suffering, but divine presence within suffering. God, according to Jesus, will never leave you alone.

Grace and truth #6: According to Jesus, God is always and only Christlike.  God’s power is revealed through cruciform love. ~ John 14:8–11

And now we arrive at the summit of the mountain. Philip becomes our stand in for the entire series: “Show us God.” And Jesus responds: “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” Because Jesus does not merely talk about God. Jesus reveals the fullness of God. Shows us God. Is the clearest vision of God.

And what kind of God does Jesus reveal? A God who washes feet. A God who touches lepers. A God who forgives adulterers. A God who welcomes children. A God who weeps over cities. A God who dies forgiving his executioners. And this is the scandal: The clearest picture of God is not raw, unstoppable force but crucified, unstoppable love. Grace upon grace.

The cross is not Jesus saving us from God. The cross is Jesus revealing God. Revealing what God has always been like. Self-giving. Co-suffering. Enemy-loving. Merciful beyond comprehension. God is Christlike and in God there is no unChristlikeness.

So if we once again step back and see the whole series together.

According to Jesus:

  • God seeks the legalistic lost.
  • God partners with us care.
  • God loves enemies and calls everyone child.
  • God welcomes honest prayer.
  • God gives Godself generously.
  • God looks like crucified love.

And we, in turn, can release our false gods. The transactional god. The indifferent god. The tribal god. The withholding god. The reluctant god. The unChristlike god.

Jesus shatters every brittle jar we have built around God. And standing in the middle of the shattered pieces says: “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” This is God according to Jesus: Full of grace and truth.

Grace and truth when we fail.
Grace and truth when we hide.
Grace and truth when we ache.
Grace and truth when we distort.
Grace and truth when we rage.
Grace and truth when we despair.
Grace upon grace upon grace upon grace. Behold your God. Amen.

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Monday, May 18, 2026

Have you seen the crucified God? ~ John 14:8-11

 


In John 14, Philip asks Jesus the question humanity has been fighting over forever: What is God like? What does God want? What does God think? About me? About them? About the world?

And honestly, Philip’s request is understandable. Because God can seem so elusive – not just for unbelievers but even devout Christians. Christians have claimed God endorses everything under the sun: empires and revolutions, crusades and conquests, vengeance and violence. One person says God is angry. Another says God is compassionate. One says God demands blood. Another says God forgives freely. One says God chooses sides. Another says God loves everyone.

Even within the Bible itself, we encounter portraits that appear radically different from one another. Want a warrior God? You’ll find one. A tribal God? You can have one. A God of peace, he’s there too. Vindictive? Yep. Compassionate? For sure. A God who hates what we hate and loves who we love, we can find that too. Sometimes the Bible’s revelation functions less like a window and more like a mirror. It reveals God—yes!—but also the hearts of the people who wrote it and read it and the God that they wanted.

So Philip offers the right request: “Show us the Father.” And Jesus gives the most revolutionary answer: “Philip… have I been with you so long and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.”

This is one of the most radical claims ever uttered. Jesus doesn’t say: “I can point you toward God.” He doesn’t say: “Here is a book. Now believe EVERY word.” He says: “If you have seen me, you’ve seen God.” Not “part” of God. Not “one side” of God. Not “God on a good day.” Jesus essentially tells Philip: “I am exactly what God is like.” The writer of Hebrews understood Jesus. They wrote: “The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being . . . “(Hebrews 1:3). And Paul will echo the same truth saying that the fullness of God was in Jesus (Col. 1:19, 2:9).

And this is where Christianity becomes either astonishingly beautiful and mysterious or deeply troubling and offensive. Because Jesus reveals a God unlike the gods we usually imagine. The gods of humanity tend to rule through coercion. Jesus rules through compassion. The gods of empire kill their enemies. Jesus forgives his enemies. The gods of power crush the weak. Jesus washes feet. The gods of religion demand sacrifice. Jesus becomes the sacrifice and forgives the ones who kill him.

Jesus’ statement means that the clearest picture of God is not seen in raw displays of omni-powers (omnipotence, omniscience, omnipresence), but in Christ crucified. This is the scandal. We wish to see God’s sovereignty in unstoppable power. Jesus reveals God’s power in unstoppable love. We want to see the Lion who devours. But when we look, Jesus reveals the Lamb who is slain. The New Testament insists that the crucified Christ is “the very icon of the invisible God.” Not partially. Fully. The cross is not the moment where Jesus saves us from God. The cross is the truest moment where Jesus reveals who God actually is. What God really wants. Sometimes we’ve been so worried about trying to prove that Jesus is God we forgot the equally scandalous idea that God is like Jesus.

And Jesus crucified shows us what God looks like when humanity does its worst. Not retaliation. Not annihilation. But self-giving, co-suffering, forgiving love – that can’t ultimately be killed. And if Jesus crucified and risen is the fullest revelation of God, then we must wrestle honestly with what that means. It means we cannot appeal to some “other” God hidden behind Jesus. We cannot say: “Yes, Jesus is loving, but God Himself is harsher.” Jesus will not allow that separation. “The Father is in me.” “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” This changes everything. Because many people secretly carry a divided image of God. Jesus is kind. But the Father is severe. Jesus forgives. But God is angry. In this entire series, we’ve watched Jesus completely dismantle that dualistic framework.

According to Jesus, there is no hidden God lurking behind Him. There is no dark side of God concealed behind the back of Christ. God is like Jesus. God has always been like Jesus. There has never been a time when God was not like Jesus. In God there is no unChristlikeness. That is in part why the doctrine of the Trinity came into being.

And this is why the crucified Jesus becomes the interpretive center for who God is. Not religious triumphalism. Not moral purity. Not violence baptized in God language. But the forgiving God who surrenders. The self-emptying God who submits to being pushed around. The enemy-loving God who would rather die for His killers than destroy them.

And if all this is true, it raises a difficult question: What do we do with unChristlike images of God, especially from the Bible? As Christians, we must deeply honor the Bible. But we do not worship the Bible or merely believe in everything one might find in it. We worship the God revealed in Christ. The Bible is the inspired witness that leads us to Jesus. And Jesus taught that he was the person and story that Scriptures aims to tell and serve (John 5:39-40; Luke 24:25-27). The Scriptures bear witness to Christ. But Christ is the Word that bears witness to God.

Make no mistake. Jesus will not let us get away from our Bibles. His most often asked question was, “Have you not read?” So to be a follower of Jesus demands that we engage with Scripture but always and only as that which bears witness to Jesus. C.S. Lewis says it this way: “It is Christ himself, not the Bible, who is the true word of God. The Bible, read in the right spirit and with the right guidance of good teachers, will bring us to him.” Perhaps here’s a helpful analogy offered by Brian Zahnd: “What John’s prologue says of John the Baptist, we can say about the Bible: ‘There was a book sent from God that we call the Bible. The Bible came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. The Bible itself is not the light; it came only as a witness to the light.’ This is not a low view of Scripture but a high view of Christ.”

And Jesus, the Word of God, stands before us and says: “If you want to know what God is like, don’t simply listen to my words, look at my works.” Look at the One touching lepers. Look at the One forgiving adulterers. Look at the One welcoming children. Look at the One eating with sinners. Look at the One weeping over Jerusalem. Look at the One carrying a cross. Look at the One praying forgiveness over His executioners. Look at me and behold your God.

So where does this leave us? It leaves us with a choice. Will we continue creating God in our image? Or will we allow Jesus to reveal God to us? Will we believe every vision of God offered in the Bible? Or will we interpret everything through Jesus? Because according to Jesus, the final and fullest revelation of God is not a book dropped from heaven but is best encountered through a flesh-and-blood person.

So, because of who Jesus is, what Jesus said, and what Jesus did, we refuse to read the Bible as a flat text where every word has equal authority. Rather, we understand that Jesus is the pinnacle of revelation and every word of Scripture must finally submit to him. Jesus himself reveals that not every word of Scripture aligns with the living Word of God. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus will say, “You have heard it said (quoting Scripture), but I say to you . . . “ (Matthew 5). That’s not tweaking Scripture – it’s a correction. Yes, Jesus corrected the Bible, including words in the Bible formally ascribed to God. So if Jesus is the truest revelation of God and the true Word of God the formula is simple: Read the Bible – carefully, thoughtfully, honestly, prayerfully. When anything in the Bible disagrees with Jesus and who he reveals God to be, listen to Jesus. In Matthew 17, when Moses, who represents the Law, and Elijah, who represents the Prophets, appear with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration, they represent the whole of the Old Testament witness. And Peter wishes to equally celebrate all three. And what does God say? “This is my Son. Listen to him” (Matthew 17:5). The Law and the Prophets point to Jesus and bow to Jesus. Never use them to correct him. He’s the Word of God.

So when we ask: “What is God like?” The answer Christians give is not a philosophical abstraction and not simply any verse from the Bible. It is Jesus. Jesus healing. Jesus teaching. Jesus forgiving. Jesus welcoming. Jesus suffering. Jesus crucified. Jesus risen. This is God, according to Jesus.

And if that is true— then the deepest reality in the universe, the best view of God, is not wrath. Not fear. Not domination. It looks like this. And that, friends, is utterly scandalous and incredibly beautiful. Behold the crucified God.

 


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