July 26, 2026
9th Sunday after Pentecost – The Rev. Mark S. Winward MDiv, ThM
Proper 12A
“Who will separate us from the love of Christ?
Will hardship, or distress, or persecution,
or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?”
—Romans 8:35
The Prayer Saul Could Not Forget
As Stephen stood resolutely before the Sanhedrin, accused of speaking against the Temple and the Law, his enemies expected him to cower in fear. Instead, he spoke boldly, reminding them how often God’s messengers had been rejected. Then his indictment erupted: “You always resist the Holy Spirit!” As the council responded with rage, Stephen looked upward and exclaimed, “Behold, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!”
That was enough. They dragged him beyond the city walls, tossed him on the ground, and began to stone him, while a young Pharisee named Saul stood nearby, approving of his death. One by one, the stones struck Stephen, but he refused to curse his murderers. Sinking to his knees, he called out, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” Those were the final words of the Church’s first martyr—the first in a long line of faithful witnesses who would follow.
Those words must have haunted Saul. I cannot help but imagining that Stephen’s words rang in Saul’s ears for many years, even after his conversion. But if Stephen’s final words troubled Saul, he initially answered it with more rage. Saul ravaged the Church, entering the homes of Christians, dragging men and women away, and casting them into prison. Saul relentlessly sought to crush the faith Stephen had died defending. Scripture does not say that Stephen’s death caused Saul’s conversion, but Stephen’s face and dying prayer must have flashed through Saul’s mind on the road to Damascus, when he was blinded by light and heard Christ’s piercing question: “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”
As a result, the man who had made it his mission to persecute Christians would become the greatest missionary of a faith that he once tried to destroy. In Paul, it gained its most influential missionary, whose writings would profoundly shape the Church’s understanding of Christ’s death and resurrection.
Perhaps Stephen’s dying prayer still echoed in Paul’s ears when, years before his own martyrdom, he wrote these words:
“Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.
“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
What Does It Mean to Work for Good?
Paul’s proclamation was grounded in his absolute conviction that “all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” But how could Paul possibly profess such faith? He had witnessed Christians tortured and martyred in ways limited only by the twisted imaginations of their persecutors—and he himself had once promoted their persecution. By every ordinary measure, it certainly had not worked out very well for countless Christian martyrs.
But notice that Paul does not claim all things are good. He claims that they work together for good. Suffering is not good. Injustice is not good. Persecution is not good. Death is not good. God does not require us to rename evil as good before he can redeem it. Nor does Paul promise that every tragedy will produce a recognizable earthly blessing. He does not tell grieving people that if they search long enough, they will discover the hidden benefit of their suffering. Some wounds leave no visible blessing behind. Some questions can not be answered on this side of heaven.
Paul is affirming that even the most outrageous circumstances cannot prevent God from accomplishing his redemptive purpose. Suffering may seem overwhelming, but it cannot wrench us from Christ. Evil may scar us, but it cannot have the final word. Death may be the end of our earthly struggles, but it fails to be the barrier to eternal life that Christ offers through his resurrection.
More than Conquerors
In this, Paul describes us as “more than conquerors.” Paul does not arrive at this by denying suffering. This side of heaven, human experience is often filled with grief, doubt, or feelings of being overwhelmed. Being “more than conquerors” does not mean that we must maintain a brave face while our world collapses around us. It means that none of those experiences—not suffering, not grief, not doubt, not even death—can sever the bond Christ has established with us. Our victory is not that we escape suffering. Our victory is that suffering cannot separate us from Christ.
Death Is Not the Final Word
If death is the final word, then Paul’s proclamation rings hollow in the face of the degradation endured by those who have clung to this hope until the end. But Paul grounded his hope firmly in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. He does not claim that injustice, suffering, or death is unreal. Nor does he claim that God wills the evils that devastate his daughter and sons. The cross proclaims that God can take what Evil intends for destruction and, without ever calling evil good, bring about redemption.
For Paul, the resurrection is God’s answer to the murderous violence of the cross—and to all who mistake death for the final word. The world looked at Jesus hanging upon the cross and saw defeat. God answered with resurrection. The world looked at Stephen beneath a hail of stones and saw a blasphemer silenced. God brought forth a witness whose prayer may have echoed in the conscience of the man who would carry the gospel throughout the Roman world. The world looked at Paul in chains and saw the power of Rome. God brought forth letters that would strengthen the Church for generations after Rome had fallen.
The martyrs did not always live to see the earthly fruits of their faithfulness. Paul did not live to see how far his witness would travel. Yet because they courageously stood for their faith, the gospel was carried forward in a chain of hope from one generation to the next – until it reached us.
Held by the Love of God
This is radically good news! When confronted with adversity, sickness, tragedy, or even the prospect of death, a range of frightening possibilities may open before us. Faith does not require us to pretend those possibilities are not daunting. It does not ask us to discover a silver lining in every cloud or some hidden blessing within every tragedy. It asks us to trust that, even when we can see no good at all, suffering cannot prevent God from completing his redemptive work. Faith does not pretend that a fragment of good cancels the pain of loss. It trusts that from circumstances doomed by death, God can bring life. It trusts that what we endure now is beyond the Christ’s redeeming. Even if we fail to discover the answer on this side of heaven, that hope exerts a subtle pull upon our lives. Over time, it leads us toward a very different destination than despair.
“If God is for us, who can be against us?” So, what shall separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord? Hardship, or grief, and or sickness, or danger cannot. Even death itself cannot.
Corrie ten Boom, a concentration survivor, famously said, “There is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still.” However dark the moment you are in, God loves you. The question is whether you dare to live as though that love is true. Thankfully, God’s love does not depend upon our grip on him, but upon his grip on us.
Amen.
July 19, 2026
8th Sunday after Pentecost – The Rev. Mark S. Winward, MDiv, ThM
Proper 11A
A Beautiful Mess
This past Wednesday marked one year since we moved into our home in Talking Rock, just over the Gilmer County line. Our house is in a water-skiing community—even though we’re not water-skiers—and sits on the side of a hill looking across two long ponds. On a clear evening, those ponds beautifully reflect the warm orange glow of the sunset.
Between our back patio and our pond-side lawn is a steep berm dotted with black-eyed Susans—and an equal number of every kind of weed North Georgia has to offer. While the weeds are a bit annoying, the black-eyed Susans lend the property a kind of wild beauty. So I’ve given up trying to sort through this beautiful mess myself.
Wheat and Weeds
In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the servants not to pull the weeds because they might uproot the wheat as well. He concludes, “Let both of them grow together until the harvest.”
This is hard for us because we want things to be clear-cut. We want to know who’s right and who’s wrong, who’s faithful and who’s unfaithful, who belongs and who doesn’t. We want a field in which every plant is clearly labeled—a berm full of nothing but pretty black-eyed Susans.
But in reality, wheat and weeds grow side by side, their roots tangled beneath the soil in a less-than-idyllic field.
July 12, 2026
7th Sunday after Pentecost – The Rev. Mark S. Winward MDiv, ThM
The Parable of the Sower
“…as for what was sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields, in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty.” – Matthew 13:23, NRSV
When Jesus told this Parable of the Sower, he was painting a picture that anyone living in ancient Palestine would have immediately recognized. To say the farmland in Galilee was challenging to cultivate would be an understatement. In fact, an old Jewish legend holds that at creation, an angel flying over Israel accidentally dropped a giant bag full of rocks that were strewn across the countryside. Besides the rocky ground, in many places only a thin layer of soil covers solid limestone. Seeds can sprout quickly, but without deep roots they wither under the hot desert sun. Everyone knew that growing a good crop required patience, persistence, and constant care.
That setting became the backdrop for one of Jesus’ most important teachings about discipleship and the Kingdom of God. In the parable, Jesus describes a sower scattering seed. Some fell on the hard path, where the birds quickly ate it. Some landed on rocky ground, where it sprang up quickly but withered just as fast because it had no deep roots. Other seed fell among thorns, which gradually choked out the young plants.
July 5, 2026
Independence Day (Observed) – The Rev. Mark S. Winward, MDiv,ThM
Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…” – Matthew 5:43-44, NRSV
The Mood of Our 250th Anniversary
Is it me, or does this 250th anniversary of the founding of our nation seem a bit subdued – especially compared to what I remember of our 200th anniversary? I was 15 years old during our Bicentennial in 1976, and you couldn’t get away from it. I remember parades, tall ships, fireworks, television specials, and a sense of anticipation and excitement that, to my young eyes, seemed to last for months. This year, as we celebrate our 250th anniversary – a quarter of a millennium of our nation’s life, and arguably an even more significant milestone than our Bicentennial – the mood feels very different. One of the things that saddens me most is that even flying the flag of the nation I dedicated most of my life to defending can now be interpreted as a political statement. I pray we can recover a sense of shared civic identity that rises above our political differences.
When Disagreement Becomes Enmity
Whether because of politics, media, social change, or simply the pace of modern life, many of us have the sense that we no longer know how to disagree without questioning one another’s motives.