Last Sermon at St. Martin's (for now)

May 17, 2023

On May 14th, 2023, I preached my last sermon in traditional worship at St. Martin's. It was on First Peter 3, as it appears in the Lectionary.

When I was a high school teacher, the deputy head teacher once said to me that when it comes to teaching you have to imagine that you have three buttons on your arm. Teenagers, she told me, have an innate ability to find those buttons and press them. As a teacher, I needed to be aware of their presence and when they were pressed so as not to lose control. Because sometimes when a student pushes back, acts out and rebels, they can really get under your skin!

And her advice proved wise. It’s easy to be loving and gentle and kind in a vacuum. Or when things are going well. But when people are involved—and those people press our buttons—we can find the tank runs dry. We get irritated or impatient. Or full of emotion and drama. We react.

The famous Christian writer, Brennan Manning, said this of our humanity:

“When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes. I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest and I still play games. Aristotle said I am a rational animal; I say I am an angel with an incredible capacity for beer.”

We have buttons. We are paradoxes. And yet as bearers of the gospel, the body of Christ in the world, we called to lives lives that love. Not just love for those we naturally love: our friends and family. But love those who are difficult to love. Those who test our patience. Those who push our buttons and wind us up. Those who set themselves against us. We are called to love others, sacrificially, turning the other cheek, laying down our egos, our self-righteousness and our preferences, as we follow Christ and do as he calls us to do.

Most of the time, First Peter tells us, that’s going to be a good thing for those around us. Most of the time, that will bring about reward. Who will harm us if we are eager to do what is good?

But what if, as we pursue the good, the holy and the courageous—what if we get resistance? Push back? Dishonor? Reproach? What are we to do when pursuing the good gets us into trouble? When it results in gossip and people assuming the worst about us—even from those we love and respect? What are we to do when we risk facing bullying or even abuse?

If our love is rooted in ourselves and our own natural resources, that is the moment that we might find all three buttons pressed on our arms. Where we lash out and attack. Or where we recoil and withdraw and put up walls. Or where we cry out in indignation and lament how we have been wronged.

Underlying our natural responses—whether they are fight or flight, silence or violence—is a common cause. A very human motivation. Fear.

And how crippling fear can be.

So often, we fear others. The harm they may be able to do us, physically or materially. We might fear bodily harm or injury. Or perhaps we fear those who could financially ruin us. But it might also be about the security of relationships. Someone might leave us. They might tell stories about who we are and slander or misrepresent us.

Perhaps it runs even deeper: maybe we fear others because if any of those things actually happen—maybe THIS will be nail in the coffin that proves to us that we are as woeful, weak, shameful and undeserving as we secretly believe that we are.

Yet First Peter says this about doing good that might bring about harm or abuse: "Do not fear what they fear and do not be intimidated, but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord." (v.14-15)

This verse draws from Isaiah chapter 8 in which the people of God are told, when full of fear at the threat of a foreign power. Isaiah says:

Do not fear what they fear,
and do not dread it.
The Lord Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy,
he is the one you are to fear,
he is the one you are to dread.

Do not fear what others fear. Sanctify Christ. Fear Christ.

Our natural human reaction is to resort to one kind of defense or another. Some form of self-protection and validation that will keep us safe from harm. But First Peter tells us that as Christians, we are to switch out our fears. Trade them in.

To the Cross we bring our fears of others, fear of rejection, hatred, physical harm, death, alienation, shame, humiliation—you name it—and lay them at his feet. These fears are not ours anymore.

In their place, we are to fear just one thing: one being: God as revealed in Jesus Christ.

And of course, the fears we are trading in are not quite like the fear we take on in return. For in Christ we have a God who has made a way for us to draw near. A God who has deigned to help reconcile us back to Him when there was nothing we could do to free us from our chains. He knows our secrets and acted anyway. In Christ we have a God who accepts us even knowing the fulness of our mistakes and our shortcomings. Where we are broken and weak-kneed. Where we have failed. Where we lived half-lives and had hardened hearts. Where we have chased after idols.

Fear of others or fear of God in Christ?

Another way to imagine it might be to ask ourselves the question: if my life is a stage, who is my audience? My spouse? My boss? My neighbors? My parents? My colleagues? My friends? Am I playing for their laughs? Their approval? Their support? Their positive reviews?

Or is my audience God himself and God alone? The difference being that with God as my audience, I have his Spirit with me, who shares the stage and shows me where to go and how to live? All I am to do is submit and listen and respond?

Fear of others or fear of God?

"Do not be intimidated, but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord." (v.14-15)

In your heart let there be only one audience. The audience of God in Christ. Follow him and him alone.

Fear of God is about faith.

It takes faith not to engage when others want a fight or are pushing for a reaction.

It takes faith to remain tender-hearted and forgiving when others slander us for pursuing God’s will for our life.

It takes faith to humbly respond, when asked, about what we believe and why—and so share our hope.

And it takes faith to "maintain a good conscience." (v.16) To keep doing the right thing, even when pressed.

Without effort, our conscience remains dulled. When we run from ourselves and hide behind denial and convenience—when we are driven by many fears rather than one—that little voice of conscience goes dormant. Like muscle wastage when you’ve been sick a while, our conscience can all but disappear.

But as with regular exercise through which our physical strength can be regained and our fitness rebuilt, so with regular spiritual exercise our conscience can re-emerge and be sharpened once more. Where we discover integrity of actions: where our outside match our insides, where we are no longer living divided and shame-filled lives. Where we dare to start doing right by God.

Maintain a good conscience: be in the habit of listening for God’s voice, the quiet nudge, the uncomfortable thought—and do that. Obey. Follow. Take a risk. Make space to listen. Don’t confuse (as many do) conscience for adrenaline. Conscience is not about the surge of energy that comes when we feel indignant or reactive. Conscience finds its voice in still and deep waters, not turbulent waves that crash down violently upon jagged rocks. Conscience speaks with quiet conviction about the right action we should be taking, it does not fixate on that of others.

Work to maintain a good conscience. So that when the moment of truth comes, we might find the strength that Martin Luther had so much of during the Reformation. When he was pressed by religious officials to recant from his outspoken criticisms of the Roman Catholic church, he’s famously reported as having responded:

"My conscience is captive to the Word of God. Thus I cannot and will not recant, because acting against one’s conscience is neither safe nor sound. Here I stand; I can do no other. God help me."

"It is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be within God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil." (v.17)

We bear little risk of persecution or physical death in following God. But we can face slander, derision and social rejection. From family, from friends, even those who believe! When we seek to do good, love humbly and forgive generously. When we step out in faith and follow.

It is better, First Peter tells us, to bear this dishonor faithfully and keep on keeping on regardless. To not lose sight of our goal and keep doing the good He has called us to do. Listening and following the voice of conscience. For while we may bear embarrassment or rejection for acting with integrity, much better we experience that shame now, than the being confronted with shame of shunning God’s voice when He comes to judge the world.

Yes, some days, it seems like, for a moment, that injustice is winning and darkness abounds. Evil may win a battle here or there, but it has already, irrevocably, lost the war. Christ is on the throne. All powers are at his feet. There is nothing but Him to fear.

So do good.

Fear God.

Maintain a good conscience.

And await the day of Christ. Amen.

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The Wisdom of "100%" (or the Lack of It)

By Suse McBay • March 17, 2026

Are you 100% sure about that? Last December, Stephen and I headed for Prague for a few days. We were looking forward to Christmas markets, mulled wine, and shopping. Because we had booked a really early flight, we decided to stay in an airport hotel the night before. We hadn’t banked on one thing though: how to get from the bus station at Heathrow to the hotel. We could see our destination towering ahead of us as we exited the coach, but there was no reliable way to get there on foot. Much like Houston, navigating the surface roads of Heathrow is much easier for those in a car. So, we asked for directions from one of the airport staff. She pointed us over to two elevators, sat right next to each other. One had a line of at least twenty people. The other one had none. Those at the front of the queue hadn’t even pressed the button. That seemed strange and indicated that perhaps the people in line didn’t know what they were doing—or weren’t used to London airports. But why was one line so long and the other non-existent? The signs above weren’t exactly clear, but here were two lifts side-by-side, surely they went to the same place? Towards the back of the line was a middle-aged man, surrounded by luggage and family, who realised what we were trying to puzzle out. “Nah, you can’t use it. The other lift doesn’t go down. Doesn’t go to the same place,” he told us. We looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure?” we asked. “ One hundred percent , mate. One hundred percent.” The certainty with which he declared his answer was persuasive. He crowed like he was the CEO of the airport. That lift would not go where the other one was going. He repeated himself again. 100%. Only, he was wrong. We risked looking like fools. We walked to the vacant elevator, hit the button, and—lo and behold!—an elevator appeared that went to the exact same location as the other. The middle-aged man surrounded by luggage was 100%... in the wrong. Utterly and completely. *** Words, words, words, but no wisdom I don’t personally know the man who so-confidently revealed his wrongness. I’ve no idea whether his bluster was out of character from his usual self. But in the moment of our encounter, he acted every bit the ‘fool’ we find in Book of Proverbs: "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing personal opinion." (Proverbs 18:2) There is much wisdom in Proverbs 17:28: Even fools who keep silent are considered wise; when they close their lips, they are deemed intelligent. It seems to me that we live in a world saturated with words, whether written or spoken. There’s an ever-growing number of websites, social media platforms, podcasts, and so on. Even more so now with AI. Yet for all this verbal abundance, there does not seem to be any more wisdom than there used to be. I would argue with AI, there seems to be less (or perhaps it’s simply exposing our foolishness). Part of me wonders about the virtue of writing a blog, when these are so often half-thoughts, explorations, and ideas: am I just adding to the plethora of opinions that exist on the blogosphere? Last year, I was teaching on how to plan and lead funerals with our final year ordinands. I spoke with confidence about what works and what doesn’t. What the role of the cleric is, how to work with the grieving family, how to craft the sermon, what to do afterwards etc. It felt good to be able to give real, lived experience having worked in a church for a decade. But it was only during the Q&A when I realized something. I realized my confidence was borne of a very specific context: I ministered in a large, Episcopal church in Houston, Texas. Not a small parish church, somewhere remote in England. Did the wisdom and experience I bring still have value in the Church of England, where the Church is an established one? Where those who minister do among many people who don’t dare to cross the threshold of a religious building except in such moments of life and death? Now I happen to think it does; but only with some qualification. For what I realized in that moment is that it’s not quite as readily transferable as I’d assumed. Church cultures are different. Expectations are different. How people respond and react to their local vicar is different! What works in one scenario doesn’t necessarily work in another. Consider Proverbs 26:4-5: 4 Do not answer fools according to their folly, or you will be a fool yourself. 5 Answer fools according to their folly, or they will be wise in their own eyes. Proverbs 26 has a seeming contradiction that speaks to the importance of context. In the situation where you’re faced with someone spouting foolishness, what should you do? Speak or not speak? Engage or not engage? The modern equivalent to v.4 might be to say to yourself “not my monkeys, not my circus” and walk away. But what about the times when it is your circus? When they are your monkeys? What about when to walk away is to leave someone blind to their mistakes and doomed to make more? What if responding might feasibly help someone see beyond their own blinkers and make a different choice? Sometimes v.4 might be the path of wisdom. Other times it’s v.5. But it’s not always apparent which is which. Overconfidence is not just dangerous for making us look like fools or giving bad advice. If we stay in our certitude, we miss the heart of the issue revealed in these two verses: we need wisdom. So where do we find it? *** Does ‘wisdom come with age’? I’ve heard it said that ‘wisdom comes with age’. Ironically enough, this line was used when I was in something of a disagreement with someone much older than me. But claiming moral high ground or superior understanding on the basis of some unalterable characteristic that you have but I don’t, is more indicative of pride than wisdom. If age does come with wisdom, there would be no conflict or disagreement within the human species as we age. If age is the sole arbiter, we should collectively do better as the wrinkles and grey hairs multiply. Yet that’s not what happens. Wisdom, sadly, is not inevitable. It can come with age because of one very simple reality: the more time you’ve had on the planet means you’ve had more opportunity to become wise. Now whether or not you’ve taken those opportunities is quite a different thing! *** Wisdom: a gift that needs seeking Proverbs has an interestingly balanced view of wisdom. It is (1) something that requires active seeking, yet also (2) something which only God can give. Proverbs 2:1-4 talks about the need to exert effort in acquisition of wisdom. It’s not something that just lands on our laps: it asks you to be open to learning and sitting with what you receive (v.1), deliberate and intentional in putting your body in a space to grow in it (v.2), and vocal in your search for it (v.3). In other words: humble, open, and hungry. This passage concludes by likening it to searching for silver or hidden treasure (v.4). Think about that for a moment: do you search for wisdom in the same way you seek out growth in income or asset? From a human wisdom point of view, seeking financial gain for our security and future as we age (and our children grow and go off to college etc) makes good sense. But what if we were to seek wisdom with the very same fervour? What if wisdom had the same significance for our spiritual security and future? What if it is important to our growth in the Christian life and readiness for what may come our way? It’s a gift that needs seeking. But Proverbs tells us it is also a gift that is given. Verse 6 reveals “ the LORD gives wisdom; from his mouth come knowledge and understanding .” Our seeking is not the whole picture. Longing for wisdom does not mean we get it. Wisdom is God’s domain not ours. Proverbs 8 illustrates that God’s Wisdom is not something to acquire or harvest. It is not a commodity to be doled out. It is not a consumer good. Wisdom was present when God made the world. Wisdom is a part of God’s self that chooses when to be imparted and when not to be (compare 1:28; 8:17; 9:5, 16) The very fabric of our material world is infused with the mystery of Wisdom. Insight and understanding comes from God and helps us to navigate the complexity of our lives, but this gift is just a glimpse of a much greater reality of the divine Wisdom which exists eternally. This, perhaps, brings us back to where I started. True wisdom is never found in loud proclamations of “one hundred percent!”. Why? Because the one who is wise recognises they have a lot to learn. They know that new information can shift and reframe yesterday’s certainty. Maybe the first step is to stop claiming absolute certainty—to stop the all-or-nothing thinking. Maybe we start with recognising what Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 13: we only see in part, know in part, understand in part. And from there, we begin actively seeking that gift which only God—from His Wisdom—can give. Wisdom has built her house, she has hewn her seven pillars. 2 She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table. 3 She has sent out her servant-girls, she calls from the highest places in the town, 4 "You that are simple, turn in here!" To those without sense she says, 5 "Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. 6 Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight." Proverbs 9:1-6 ****** Photo © Copyright Derek Harper and licensed for reuse under a cc-by-sa/2.0 Creative Commons Licence.

When God Goes Quiet

By Suse McBay • February 13, 2026

What do we do on days when God seems entirely absent? Some thoughts about where I see that in my life today and, looking back, recognising how much has changed.