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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A Thought About Resurrection

By Suse McBay • July 28, 2026

Let me start by asking a question: if someone came up to you and asked what's the benefit or blessing of being a Christian, what would you include in your answer? There's the things we might know to say from Sunday School: Jesus loves me, died for me, so I can be forgiven and free. Or something like that. Would it naturally come to your lips to say this: The gift of my faith is that no matter how hard life gets, no matter the sorrow or suffering that comes my way, I am reassured and strengthened by the confidence that God does not ignore the unjust lives or deaths of those who stick close to Him? *** This summer I’m taking some time to look at Daniel 11-12 and Book 4 of the Jewish poetic writings I research, the Sibylline Oracles . This post is an observation and an out-loud thought from some of my reading. Again and again, both in Daniel, the Sibyllines, an array of other Jewish literature, and the gospels (as well as elsewhere in the NT—e.g. Mark 8:38-9:1, 10:29-31, John 11:25, 1 Cor 15:16-19, 2 Corinthians 4), resurrection and the post-mortem life appears as an encouragement and response to the problem of human suffering. Not a rationale or justification. It’s not an answer to the question of ‘why does God allow suffering’ in any overt sense. But an end to the story of God’s peoples that shapes how the present might be lived. When I was very young, I thought resurrection was more-or-less a get of jail free card for the crucifixion. Jesus died on a cross to deal with sin and death. But if he isn't raised it's all pointless: so God has to raise him. Resurrection as an after thought, if you will. But resurrection isn't an epilogue. It's the victory. Without it the whole story is pointless. It's a real, substantial, material hope. *** Life is hard work. Life does not always go our way. Even when it does, that way isn't usually what we really wanted anyway! There's the normal hard stuff of life: work, family, friendships, health and so on. Then there's the hard stuff of following God. We are given so much goodness in the gospel: a relationship with God for starters! But also forgiveness, healing, reconciled relationships, a change and liberation of priorities, freedom and new life. All such wonderful and good things. Yet they are all a foretaste. Reconciliation doesn't always happen. We might have an interior freedom but experience hardship after hardship externally. I've been reading the diaries of Etty Hillesum who expereinced just that. She was a young Jewish woman in the 1940s. She experienced such a bliss and joy because of her faith and spirituality that found contentment even in life in a concentration camp. Yet her life ended at the tender age of 29. So much life left to live, so much potential unrealised. *** Resurrection is a reminder and encouragement that our real hope and the true fulfilment of the gospel isn't in the here and now (it begins now, but as a foretaste of what's to come). We aren't to expect ' everything will go my way ' in this life or that I should experience the perennial blessing of God in my earthly life and relationships. Following God will not be easy. The things He calls us to do may not succeed. The people we love may not love us back. The person we pray for may never come to faith. The change we want to see manifest in the world around us may not happen in this life. But resurrection says this: God has not forgotten. God sees it all. God will set right. Unjust deaths will be dealt with. Unfair hardship will be set straight. This life is not all there is. There is so much more to come, that all of this--even the heart-breaking stuff—will pale in significance in comparison. Yes, that doesn't stop it hurting in the present moment. It doesn't stop grief or stem the tide of darkness today. But it allows us to let go. Surrender. Trust. None of this has to be fixed now. We do what we can. But the outcome of it all is not one realised in this life, but the next. So take courage. There is more to come. ******

A Scottish Scandal & the Gift of Healthy Shame

By Suse McBay • June 24, 2026

Peter Murrell, a Scottish political worker and now ex-husband of Nicola Sturgeon (former SNP party leader), was this week sentenced to 5 years in prison for embezzlement. Over the years he had used party money to buy all manner of things. It began with a Play Station 3 but escalated, to buying silver wine coaster, a Jaguar, and a motor home (the list goes on and on). Now embezzlement is not new. Nor is using political office for personal gain. But what struck me were the comments from the lawyer following the sentencing: “ The accused is now an individual overwhelmed by feelings of embarrassment and shame .” Shame. We don’t know if it’s true or not, but I wonder how you respond to hearing such contrition? Responses can range from the judgemental (“ Good! He deserves it ”) to the overly sympathetic (“ Perhaps he’s learned his lesson ”). But regardless of where we individually fall on the sympathy scale, it was an interesting example of what I’ve been thinking about recently: healthy shame . Mr Murrell has undeniably done something wrong and has betrayed the office given to him. He’s estranged from his wife. He’s headed to prison. He was there to represent the people, but instead, he has preyed on the sheep (Ezek. 34:2 has things to say about this). That uncomfortable feeling of recognising where we have transgressed our limits and have become hoodwinked by our own hubris and entitlement. His inadequacies have been publicly exposed. His dirty laundry is out in public. We may be more accustomed to scandal given the internet age, so we may be desensitised to it, but I bet Peter Murrell is not. When it happens to you, it’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. It’s exposing. I’m no psychologist, so I’d recommend John Bradshaw’s book on Healing the Shame That Binds You , if you want to think more about it. Dan Allender and Tremper Longman have a good Christian reflection on different emotions in Cry of the Soul. But I’ve been noticing where healthy shame appears in Scripture. Shame crops up again and again and again. I’m still in the early stages of thinking about where it appears and why, but one clear example of where it occurs is in scenes of divine judgement, both those in the present and those yet to come. God’s People Exposed (1) Daniel 12:1-4 talks about how Jewish believers in the 2 nd century BCE would be raised. The wise and understanding ones who didn’t comply with the political schemes of Antiochus IV would be raised to shine like stars. The others? Those who had aligned themselves with the emperor and in the process forsaken their covenant loyalty to God? They would be faced with everlasting shame (and contempt). (2) Jeremiah 2 has strong words for God’s people of Israel who have got so wrapped up in themselves they have stopped seeking where God is at work and instead are playing with other idols under the illusion of thinking they’re faithful because they keep the Law. They even say they don’t run after false gods (v.23). They’ve tried to seek out gain from the political powers (v.18) rather than humbly submit themselves to God (v.20). The result? They will be put to shame by Egypt (v.36). In an eerily similar statement to the news from Scotland: “As a thief is shamed when caught, So the house of Israel shall be shamed: They, their kings, their officials, Their priests, and their prophets.” (Jer 2:26) And the same is true in the New Testament. Mark 8:38 says this: "Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels." I suspect these are words for people who don’t listen to Jesus’ words in the preceding lines: the message that to follow Jesus is to take up your cross, deny yourself. Surrender your own wants and desires. Those who, like Peter, wanted to avoid death. Avoid suffering. Avoid hardship. Those who wanted a Messiah that came on a horse not a donkey. One who wore a crown of gold, not one of thorns. ** So what a bout us? How do we avoid that fate? Well, like a bill that if you don’t pay now you’ll be paying a lot more later, we need to start facing our inner shame today. Both the healthy shame and the shame we’ve been given that doesn’t belong to us. We might take some time to pray, be still, listen. See what comes up when we think about our uncomfortable feelings that usually stay in the shadows. The great gift of shame is that it shows us our limits. Where we’ve crossed the line and harmed ourselves, others, and our relationship with God. Where we’ve tried to be more than human (or acted in fear that we’re less than human). But shame also dies on exposure. Though I’d also add that shame dies on exposure in the presence of a loving other. We find a person or a group where we can start doing the crazy thing and actually revealing our shameful selves to others. Peter Murrell is full of shame, his lawyer says. The question is: what will he do with it? Will he use this public humiliation to face himself as he is? Does he have people around him to listen to him and to help him through it? I hope so. Genuinely. I hope that for all of us. That we would have the courage to allow the One who is Light to bring light into the midst of our shame today. To bring us out of hiding. Shame is a horrible feeling: I’m not a fan. But I do know that on the other side is acceptance, serenity, and a joy that really does make it worth it. It is true freedom—and it’s only in that freedom I can become who God has made me to be. Because whatever I’ve done, however humiliating, the deepest truth of all is that I’m made in the image of God. I am loved. ****** Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash