“Our Worth and Value” Colchester Federated Church, June 21, 2026, (Matthew 10:24-39) Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

So this is not the easiest passage to hear this morning, let alone this being the final text to preach about as your pastor in sermon #413.  Because Jesus is telling his disciples that preaching the Gospel (standing up for what’s right and following his teachings) will inevitably bring persecution.  Jesus says, “Don’t think that I’ve come to bring peace to the earth.  I haven’t come to bring peace but a sword . . . Those who don’t pick up their crosses and follow me aren’t worthy of me.  Those who find their lives will lose them, and those who lose their lives because of me will find them.”[1]

What Jesus is sharing with his disciples is a reality check in a way—there will be consequences of the mission that is before his followers.  Jesus doesn’t sugarcoat this.  Harassment is not a sign that God has abandoned God’s disciples by any means.  Because not everyone, including members of one’s own family, will agree with the disciples following Jesus (and all that meant for how their lives would change).  Discipleship has joys and discipleship has costs.  That’s why the great theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote a classic book called The Cost of Discipleship. 

Now we can recall that the disciples James and John were in a boat with their father Zebedee repairing their fishing nets when Jesus called out to them to follow him.  Matthew tells us earlier in Chapter 4, “Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.”[2]  Now we might understand this completely.  After all, it’s Jesus who called James and John.  But we can wonder how Zebedee felt when his sons essentially abandoned him in that boat (after all it is Father’s Day today)!  We modern Christians understand that the call of Jesus came before the family fishing business.  Yet did Zebedee feel that way when his sons left him behind? 

Perhaps what Jesus is reminding us is that following him and picking up our crosses has consequences.  There are joys and there are costs of discipleship.  Not everyone will understand our choices.  My eternal hope is that Zebedee completely understood James and John leaving him behind in that fishing boat to go follow Jesus.  Because sometimes children do fly the nest—because life is short, and the world is wide.  Sometimes there are callings beyond the familiar.  Sometimes there are callings right where we are too.  We can bloom where we are planted.  The point is that not everyone will understand why we do what we do.  And sometimes following Jesus (which is rooted in following our hearts since God is love) has joys and costs.

Jesus is challenging us to contemplate how we follow him.  What does picking up our cross mean to us?  Jesus reminds us even in the midst of these hard teachings that two sparrows are sold for a small coin.  Yet not one of those sparrows will fall to the ground without God knowing about it already.  Jesus says, “Even the hairs of your head are all counted.  Don’t be afraid.  You are worth more than many sparrows.”[3]  Jesus often told his disciples to not be afraid.  Because where he wanted them to go was not dwelling on fear of harassment and therefore missing the invitation to focus on God’s compassion in the midst of life’s challenges.  No matter what picking up our crosses and following Jesus looks like and no matter how people respond (which we cannot control anyway)—we need not be afraid because we are worth so much to God.  Our lives have worth and value because we are made in the image and likeness of God.

It has dawned on me (and as I shared in my final edition of Thursday Thoughts)—this is the 413th sermon I have preached in this pulpit as the pastor of Colchester Federated Church.  Sometimes it has been said that if we are honest about it, all clergy have just one sermon inside of us that we preach over and again (in different ways and forms, using different metaphors and sharing different sermon illustrations and personal stories).  When I consider this sentiment, there is some truth there.  So here’s some of what I will leave you with, and Lord knows we have considered this all before. 

Remember that we all have inherent worth and value as people created in God’s image.  Because we will never look into the eyes of someone that God does not love.  It matters that we treat one another with the compassion that Jesus showed especially to those on the margins—tax collectors and people deemed “sinners” by those in power, children who were supposed to be seen and not heard, widows and orphans who lacked power and protection, lepers who were deemed “unclean” by some folks in society.  These outcasts were the very people that Jesus welcomed into God’s kingdom, and that must matter if we are to follow in his footsteps today. 

We can have the supposedly “purest” and “best” beliefs in Christianity, but if those beliefs do not affect how we treat other people—what’s the point?  Because faith is dead if it does not result in loving actions.  It is so easy to look at our world and even sometimes at our communities, our families, or our own lives and become cynical.  Cynicism is too easy.  Compassion is hard, and worth it.  Compassion is one of the things that cost Jesus his life, and compassion keeps our hearts open to how God is still speaking. 

And God is still speaking.  God is still moving.  God is still at work in our world and in our lives—we just have to pay attention.  Paying attention can lead to gratitude for all that God has given us.  For our lives are gifts from God and we can be gifts to one another.  I guess that’s the sermon to leave you with today.

The truth is that we have been through a lot together in these nine years.  The challenges of owning this large historic building and the upkeep of said building alone have been a lot to handle.  We also navigated a global pandemic where we literally had to stay home and stay safe, spending months apart from each other physically.  I am proud that worship did not stop during the pandemic.  We learned to adapt, and don’t forget some of those hard-earned lessons in this time of transition!  Going “live” to preach to a camera from our dining room table at the parsonage as you all tuned in to watch from home is not something I ever imagined having to do as a minister.  You all meeting my boyfriend at the time (now my husband) as we awkwardly gathered for Zoom Coffee Hour (and Neill was gently grilled by some of our church ladies regarding his intentions) is wild to think about now.  Then to emerge from that global pandemic and realize that our church building was quite literally in danger of collapsing was also not something I ever imagined having to navigate in my ministry.  Yet persevere we did, and here we are all these years later.  There has been so much that we accomplished together, and the challenges we have overcome has made this congregation stronger in the end.

There have also been momentous moments.  It has been an honor to be with you for all the life passages of baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and funerals.  It has been wonderful to be part of a terrific staff team where we encouraged a culture of creativity and teamwork.  One of the memories I will always cherish is when our Ministry of Christian Education pulled off the surprise unrehearsed Christmas pageant.  To see the looks on your faces as you opened up your paper bags to don your costumes and what good sports you were as we invited you to participate in something we had never done before as a congregation was amazing.  Last week I shared some of my memories of baptisms here at CFC that touched my heart and made me laugh and scarred me for life with those polar bear plunges in the Salmon River.  And then there’s been the quieter moments by hospital bedsides and sipping coffee in your living rooms, chatting in my office about how it is with your souls, talking about not just the past and all that has been, but hopes for this church for the future—those are rather momentous moments, too.   

So I leave you today and leave Colchester tomorrow with my heart full.  I thank you for how you have encouraged and supported me in my ministry with you.  And I invite you to keep being the church here in this place, be the community of faith that is needed here—a place of hope and healing, a place of welcome for all God’s people.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

[1] Matthew 10:34, 38-39, CEB.
[2] Matthew 4:22, CEB.
[3] Matthew 10:30-31, CEB.

Photo by Rev. Lauren Ostrout.