Reflections on Sunday’s Sermon
(May 25, 2025)
On Sunday we wrestled with Jesus' radical commandment: "Love one another as I have loved you."
Picture Jesus in that upper room. He sits with all twelve disciples around him, and knowing all that is to come, washes each of their feet:
He washes the feet of Judas, knowing Judas will betray him.
He washes the feet of Peter, knowing Peter will deny him.
He washes the feet of Thomas, knowing Thomas will doubt him.
This is unconditional love, love that expects nothing, yet gives everything—even to those who will cause us pain.
"As I have loved you, so you are to love one another."
Throughout history, some have dared to love this way.
In the year 295, a young Christian, Maximilian of Tebessa, was drafted by the Roman army but refused to serve. His only loyalty, he said, was to God. This brought great shame to his father—a veteran who knew his son's decision meant death. At his beheading, Maximilian noticed the shabby clothing of his executioner and called to his father in the crowd: "Give this man my new clothes."
During the 1994 Rwandan genocide, Immaculée Ilibagiza, a young Tutsi woman, watched as Hutu extremists murdered nearly a million people—including most of her family. She survived by hiding in a tiny bathroom with seven other women for 91 days while killers searched for them. When the genocide ended, Immaculée faced an impossible choice. She met one of the men who had killed her mother—now imprisoned and broken. Instead of seeking revenge, she looked into his eyes and said, "I forgive you." And her love didn't stop there. She began caring for the orphaned children of those who had murdered her family.
Laramiun Byrd’s mother Mary and Oshea Israel
In 1993, 16-year-old Laramiun Byrd was shot and killed at a party in Minneapolis. The shooter was Oshea Israel—also 16—who was convicted and sentenced to 25 years in prison. Laramiun's mother, Mary Johnson, was consumed with hatred and a desire for revenge. But twelve years later, she sensed God calling her to visit her son's killer in prison. She told Oshea, "We need to lay down the hurt and forgive each other." When Oshea was released, Mary helped him rebuild his life. Today, he lives next door to her. She calls him her "spiritual son."
Who is the Christ We Follow?
How do we practice this kind of love in a world full of injustice and pain? When our government prioritized white Afrikaners from South Africa for refugee status while people from other countries have languished for years in perilous conditions, I felt a deep, burning sense of injustice. The timing and selectivity of this resettlement effort feels deeply troubling, particularly when white South Africans—7% of the population—continue to own some 72% of the country's prime agricultural land.
Faith communities have been forced to wrestle with an impossible question: How do we love as Jesus loved when the institutions we’re committed to partner with perpetuate the very injustices we are called to oppose?
The Episcopal Church chose to end their migration resettlement partnership with the government rather than participate in what they believe is a discriminatory process. Reaffirming their steadfast commitment to racial justice and reconciliation, they reject the preferential treatment given to the Afrikaners over other refugees who have been waiting for years.
Meanwhile, Welcome House Raleigh, an organization affiliated with Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, after much discernment chose to welcome the Afrikaners. “We are against racist ideologies like apartheid in South Africa,” said one leader, “and we know the role Afrikaners had in that. And we are fully aware of our own history as white Baptists in the South. So, it took a lot of time and discussion, but it came down to the question of, ‘Who is the Christ we follow?’”
Friends, this is hard discipleship. In truth, I believe both groups honored the gospel.
A Holy Invitation
I love what Barbara Brown Taylor says about costly love: “I do not know what is right. All I know is whom I love, and how far I have to go before there is no one left whom I do not love. If I am wrong, then I figure the Word of God will know what to do with me. I am betting my life on that.”
This is the holy work before us: to stretch our hearts until there is room for everyone, trusting that God will guide us in the loving.
Breath prayer for this week:
Inhale: As you have loved me...
Exhale: so help me to love.