6/14/2026 - "The Work We Were Made For" - Rev. Anthony Spearhart

6.14.26 - "The Work We Were Made For" - Rev. Anthony Spearhart                                                       

Transcript

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So, in every great story ever written, the beginning matters. The beginning is where the stage is set. It's where we meet the characters. It's where we begin to notice the setting, the questions, the tensions, the hopes and the possibilities. The beginning does not tell us everything that will happen. It simply invites us in. It gives us enough to wonder what might unfold next. And today, beloved friends, we are standing at the beginning of a new story together. Our first time worshipping together, our first time sharing communion together, our first steps into this new chapter of ministry and life and faith. So today's message is going to be a bit informal, partly because today is less about me standing up here and saying everything that there is to say, and more about us beginning to know to get to know each other. Today is about celebrating the beginning of our story together. And truly, what more wonderful way could there be to begin than by sharing the communion table together? Communion matters deeply to me, and I believe it matters deeply to the life of the church, because communion reminds us who we are before, before we do anything else. Before we plan, before we serve, before we organize, before we dream, before we figure out who sits where, who knows what, who has been here longest, who is new, who has questions, who has history, who has hope. Before all of that, we come to the table. And at the table, Christ meets us. Communion reminds us that it is not my table, it is not your table, it is not even Lakeside's table. It's Christ's table. And Christ's table has a way of making room before we even know how to make room for each other. That feels like the right place for us to begin. At the table we remember that we are fed by grace, gathered by love, and sent out together. We remember that none of us earned our place here, and none of us gets to decide who is worthy of being here. We simply receive. And then having received, we are sent to live differently. What a beautiful beginning for a pastor and congregation. And now that we are finally here, I can say something out loud to you that I've been caring quietly from the beginning of this process. I first heard about Lake View at the last General Synod, before your church profile had even been completed, and I'm not sure, maybe before it had even been started. And I remember hearing just enough about you, about who you were, about what you valued, about the kind of church you were, and I said quietly, just between me and God. Lakeview United Church of Christ. That's the one. Now I didn't know yet exactly how we would get there. I did not know what all the steps would look like, or how the timing would unfold, or what conversations would need to happen along the way. But then your profile arrived, and I said it again. Yep. Now I'm sure that's the one. Something in me felt confident that somehow, with the help of God, we would find our way to this moment. I just knew that the divine was working in your hearts the same way God was working in mine. And now here we are beginning this wonderful partnership and ministry together. And that feels like holy ground to me. And since part of today is beginning to get to know each other, let me share a few things about myself. You will learn very quickly that I love the beach. The ocean is one of the places where I most easily remember that God is big and I am not, and somehow that is very good news. You will also learn that I have two gigantic dogs. Not big dogs, gigantic dogs. Two great Danes, the kind of dog who makes you ask, is that a force? And honestly, some days it feels like the answer is yes. I love roller coasters. And I fully intend to have as a season pass to King's Islands. So if you see me there looking way too excited, just know that your pastor is living his best life. I love the Cincinnati Reds. And let me clarify, that is really my only sport. So if you try to talk to me about other sports, I will smile lovingly and pastorally do my best. But I make no promises. Since I know there are some Ohio State fans and some Michigan fans here in the room, let me just say with great pastoral wisdom that we will not be solving that divide today. I also love Walt Disney. Not just the movies or the parts, though I do love those too, but the imagination, the storytelling, the belief that there is always something more to dream, more to build, and more to see if we are willing to look again. I'm drawn to wonder. I'm drawn to story. I'm drawn to places where imagination and faith meet. I believe the church should be a place where we tell the truth, where we practice love, where we make room, where we ask good questions and dare to believe that God is still doing something new among us. Which brings us to the summer. Today we began a pastor, uh a summer sermon series called The Pastor's Playbook. Now, the title is intentionally a little whimsical, a little playful. But as a coach brings a playbook to a team, not because the coach is the only one who knows how to play the game, but because the team needs to learn how they're going to move forward together. A playbook gives language, it gives direction. It helps the team know what matters, where to look, how to respond, and how to move as one body. So this summer I want to share with you some of the plays that shape how I understand ministry, understand faith, understand community, and the church. Some of these plays are already deeply part of who you are as Lakeview United Church of Christ. Some may help you get to know me better. Some may invite us to dream together about where the Spirit is leading us. We will talk about things like extravagant welcome, the kingdom of God, Micah 6.8, the power of language, the gifts of the spirits, community, covenant, collaboration, story, and the table. Now I should say something important about that image. When I talk about a playbook, I do not mean that I'm here to be the coach who stands on the sideline telling everybody else what to do. That is not how I understand ministry. I'm not here to coach you from a distance. I'm not here to hand you a list of plays and say, run these exactly the way I tell you to do. I'm here to walk alongside you. I'm here to serve with you. I'm here to listen with you, learn with you, pray with you, dream with you, and keep watch with you for where the Spirit is already moving among us. Because the Spirit was here well before I arrived. God has already been at work in this congregation, in your stories, in your ministries, in your welcome, in your griefs, in your hopes, and the holy history of this place. So this playbook is not about me bringing something brand new that belongs only to me. It's about us learning the language of our shared life together. It is about naming the values, practices, and holy instincts that can help us move together into the next chapter of what God is writing in us, through us, and around us. This is not a series about me coming in with all the answers. It's about us learning the language of our shared life. It's about how we move forward together. It's about who we are becoming with God's help. And that is why today's scripture feels like such a good place to begin. And how interestingly, how sometimes the lectionary can fit so perfectly in its planning. In Matthew's gospel, Jesus is moving through the cities and villages teaching, proclaiming good news and healing every disease and sickness. And then Matthew tells us something deeply important. Jesus sees the crowd. Not just notices them, not just observes them, Jesus sees them. He sees their pain, their exhaustion, their fear, and the systems that have worn them down. He sees people who have been pushed aside, overlooked, used up, and left behind. And Matthew says, Jesus has compassion for them because they were harassed and helped like sheep without a shepherd. That compassion is not pity from a distance. It's a deep, gut-level love that moves Jesus towards the people. Then Jesus says, the harvest is plenty, but the laborers are few. Sometimes when we hear harvest language in church, we jump straight to numbers. More people, more members, more attendance, more activity. But I don't think that Jesus is looking at the crowds as a project. Jesus is saying, look at all this pain that needs love. Look at all this suffering that needs healing. Look at all this isolation that needs community. And look at all this good news that needs to be embodied. The harvest is not merely a marketing strategy. The harvest is the holy work of compassion. And then Jesus calls the disciples. Not perfect people, not polished people, not people who have it all figured out. A complicated group of people with different stories, different failures, different questions, different edges. And Jesus gives them authority. Authority to cast out unclean spirits, to cure the sick, to raise the dead, to cleanse those with skin disease, and cast out demons. Now in a modern world, especially in progressive Christianity, we may hear language like unclean spirits or demons and not always know what to do with it. But I wonder if we can hear it today through the lens of Christ's compassion. What are the unclean spirits of our world? Not people. Never people. But the forces that possess communities, systems, and hearts. Racism is an unclean spirit. Homophobia, transphobia are unclean spirits. Shame is an unclean spirit. Greed is an unclean spirit. Fear that teaches us to hate our neighbor is an unclean spirit. Religious trauma can be an unclean spirit. The lie that some people are worth more than others is an unclean spirit. And Jesus sends disciples to cast those things out, not with arrogance, not with cruelty, not with spiritual superiority, but with compassion, courage, and God's love. And especially in an open and affirming congregation, this matters. Because when we say all are welcome, we are not just being polite. We are participating in the work of Christ. We are saying that the spirits of exclusion, shame, rejection, and fear do not get the final word here. To cure the sick means to care about bodies, about minds, about access, about rest, grief, disability, mental health, addiction, caregiving, aging, loneliness, and the real needs that people carry. To raise the dead means we dare to believe that what looks finished is not always finished. That hope can rise again, joy can rise again, call can rise again, and community can rise again. To cleanse those with skin disease in Jesus' world was not only about healing the body, it was about restoring people who had been isolated and pushed outside of the community. And church, this is still our work today. To notice who has been pushed out, to ask who is missing from the table, and to make room in ways that are not performative, but in ways that are real. Then Jesus says, You receive without payment, give without payment. We do not sell grace. We do not hoard love. We do not ration welcome. We do not make people prove they are worthy before they are embraced. We have received freely, so we give freely. That is the work we were made for. Not just me as a pastor, but us, this church family. We are the laborers. We are the ones Jesus is still sending. We are the ones invited to proclaim good news not only with our words, but with our life together. I know we have so much to learn about each other. I want to learn your stories. I want to learn what you love about this church. I want to learn what you carry, what you hope for, what you are afraid of, and what dream this community can become. And I look forward for you to getting to know me too. Not all at once, because stories take time. Community takes time. Trust takes time. But today we begin. So here is my invitation to us on this first Sunday together. Let us begin by paying attention. Pay attention to the people Jesus sees. Pay attention to the places where compassion rises in us. Pay attention to the people who have been told they do not belong, the neighbors who are carrying more than we know, the wounds in our community that need healing, and the holy possibilities already stirring among us. Let us bring our stories to the table. Let us bring our questions, our gifts, our doubts, our hopes, and our imagination. Let us dare to believe that the Spirit is still moving here. So, Lakeview, here is where our story begins. Let us go together, proclaiming the good news. For the kingdom of heaven is near. The kingdom of God has come near, and we are the laborers. And that is the work we were made for. Amen and amen.