Sunday closest to June 15
Proper 6
Year A
RCL
Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7)
Psalm 116:1, 10-17
Romans 5:1-8
Matthew 9:35-10:8(9-23)
The Power of Impossible Hope
By +Brian Ernest Brown, CWC
We have all had moments where we looked at our lives or the world around us and decided that certain things were just completely impossible. We look at a long standing fracture in a family, a deep seated habit we cannot seem to break, or a global crisis that feels overwhelming, and we quietly give up. We tell ourselves that people do not change, situations do not improve, and it is better to lower our expectations so we do not get hurt. We fold our arms, close our hearts, and settle for cynicism because it feels safer than hope.
Our readings today drop us directly into the middle of spaces where human logic says that hope is entirely dead, and they challenge us to look at what happens when God decides to speak into our dead ends.
In our first reading, we find Abraham sitting at the entrance of his tent in the blistering heat of the day. Three strangers walk up, and true to the radical laws of desert hospitality, Abraham runs to meet them, bows low, and washes their feet. He and Sarah quickly prepare a massive, generous feast for these travelers.
But during the meal, the conversation takes a shocking turn. One of the visitors looks at Abraham and says, I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife will have a son.
Now, Sarah is listening from inside the tent right behind them. She and Abraham are incredibly old. The text notes that she is long past the age of childbearing. When she hears this prediction, she does not cry, and she does not pray. She laughs. She laughs to herself because the promise sounds absolutely ridiculous. It goes against biology, it goes against common sense, and it goes against her decades of painful reality.
And God hears her internal laughter and asks a question that hits the baseline of our entire spiritual life: Why did Sarah laugh? Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?
Sarah’s laughter is the laughter of self preservation. It is the defensive reaction we all have when someone promises us something that feels too good to be true. But a year later, as the text reveals, the impossible happens. Sarah holds a baby boy in her arms and names him Isaac, which literally means laughter. God takes her laughter of cynical disbelief and transforms it into the laughter of pure, overwhelming joy.
This radical, boundary breaking power of God is exactly what Paul is celebrating in his letter to the Romans. Paul wants us to understand that our standing with God is not based on our ability to make ourselves perfect or fix our own problems.
Paul writes something that should completely stop us in our tracks. He says, For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. Indeed, rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though perhaps for a good person someone might actually dare to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.
Think about the architecture of that grace. God did not wait for humanity to get its act together before sending Jesus. God did not wait for you to clean up your mistakes, manage your anxieties, or fix your bad habits before deciding you were worth dying for. Christ stepped down into the mud of our reality at our absolute weakest, when we were still powerless and pushing Him away.
Because of this baseline love, Paul says we have peace with God and we can boast in our hope. This hope does not put us to shame because God’s love has been poured directly into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. If God can bridge the massive, impossible chasm between our sin and His holiness while we were still His enemies, then there is absolutely no situation in your life that is beyond the reach of His restoration.
This brings us straight into the Gospel of Matthew, where we see this divine love walking around in shoe leather. Matthew describes Jesus traveling through all the towns and villages, teaching, preaching the good news, and healing every disease and sickness.
And then the text notes this profoundly beautiful detail about how Jesus sees the world: When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.
Jesus does not look at the messy, broken, chaotic crowds and feel annoyed. He does not judge them for their confusion or tell them to get themselves organized. He feels it in His gut. The Greek word for compassion means a deep, physical movement in your vitals. He is brokenhearted for them because they are completely exhausted, beaten down by life, and wandering around without a guide.
And look at how Jesus responds to this overwhelming mountain of human need. He does not say, well, the situation is completely impossible, so let’s give up. He turns to His disciples and says, The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.
And then, Jesus does something radical. He summons the twelve, gives them His own authority, and sends them out into the mess. He calls them by name, including Matthew the tax collector and Judas Iscariot, the one who would betray Him. He chooses an imperfect, fragile group of people and says, go to the lost sheep. As you go, proclaim the good news, the kingdom of heaven has come near. Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment.
Jesus does not send them out because they are experts who have everything perfectly figured out. He sends them out simply to share the raw mercy they have already received. He invites them to step across the threshold of their comfort zones and become companions to the people who are hurting right in front of them.
The Psalmist captured the only logical response to this kind of overwhelming, unearned goodness in Psalm 116 when he sang:
What shall I return to the Lord for all his bounty to me? I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord. I will offer to you a thanksgiving sacrifice and call on the name of the Lord.
So, where are you laughing like Sarah today? What is the area of your life where you have quietly shut the door and decided that restoration is completely impossible? Is it a marriage that has grown cold and distant, a secret struggle with addiction that leaves you feeling powerless, or a deep spiritual exhaustion that makes you feel like a harassed and helpless sheep without a shepherd?
Hear the question of God echoing through your quiet spaces today: Is anything too wonderful for the Lord?
Stop trying to manage your own life through the narrow lens of your own limited strength and your past disappointments. Drop your defenses, step out of the bushes of your cynicism, and trust the baseline love of Christ who died for you while you were still a sinner.
Let’s pray this week for eyes of compassion like Jesus, so we can see the brokenness around us not as a nuisance, but as a harvest waiting for love. Walk out of those doors today ready to give freely because you have received freely, confident that the God of impossible hope is walking beside you every single step of the way.
Amen.