Rubber Meet Road

Focus Statement

When love costs something real, grace meets us on the road.

Tonight, we remember the night Jesus chose surrender over safety—

and invites us to walk that way still.

Point of Relation

As we’ve walked this Lenten path,

we’ve followed the witness of Celtic saints like Patrick—

who returned to the land of his enslavement not to retaliate, but to reconcile.

His mission wasn’t built on dominance, but presence—entering communities, building trust, and living the Gospel. Patrick’s model reminds us that faith must be embodied—walked, not just believed.

In more recent history, others have carried this same rhythm.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer chose resistance to injustice over personal safety—

preaching grace that costs.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. marched with love into the heart of hatred,

insisting that nonviolent courage could still shape the future.

Each of them, like Christ, understood what was at stake when love dared to move.

This night is not just a remembrance—

it’s a confrontation.

Will we take the towel and the bread into a world that still wounds?

This is the path. This is the rhythm. This is the cost.

Things to Consider

What does it mean to follow Jesus when it’s no longer safe,

no longer applauded, no longer easy?

What would it look like to love like him—

not just in principle, but in practice—

when the road ahead leads to sacrifice?

Are there places in your life where grace needs to show up

before justice is convenient?

As you come to the table tonight, ask:

Where is your road? And will your faith walk it?

What Scripture Says

It was just before the Passover Festival—

the night when the lambs were prepared,

and the people remembered how God delivered them from death.

But on this night,

Jesus sat with his disciples to prepare them for a different kind of deliverance.

A darker road.

A deeper grace.

“Having loved his own who were in the world,” John writes,

“he loved them to the end.”

He took bread. He blessed it. He broke it. He shared it.

Even with the one who would betray him.

Even with those who would run.

Paul later recalled this moment to the Corinthians:

“The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread…

and said, ‘This is my body, given for you.’”

On that night of betrayal, Jesus chose communion.

On the edge of death, he offered life.

And in the middle of that sacred meal—

esus did something else.

He got up, took a towel, and washed their feet.

It wasn’t a ritual. It was mercy.

A living parable of grace poured out even on the undeserving.

Even Judas had his feet washed. Even Peter.

Then he gave them a new command:

“Love one another… as I have loved you.”

Not with sentiment, but sacrifice.

Not in comfort, but in crisis.

This was more than a meal.

It was the breaking open of God’s love.

It was the moment grace took flesh, sat at the table,

and stared death in the face.

Little did the disciples know it then,

but this is where the rubber meets the road.

What This Means for You

This night confronts us.

Not just with bread and cup—

but with the question:

Will you follow when it costs you something real?

Jesus doesn’t just offer a meal—

he offers a path.

One paved with obedience, betrayal,

forgiveness, and sacrifice.

Following Jesus means more than loving when it's easy.

It means standing in love when it’s risky.

Speaking truth when it’s unpopular.

Living grace when it’s undeserved.

If you’ve ever wondered when your faith really matters—this is it.

This is the table. This is the towel. This is your road.

What This Means for Us

As a church, we’re already doing good work—

feeding our neighbors through our monthly Community Dinners,

supporting PUMP Portland,

partnering with the Slater Family Network.

But tonight calls us to ask: Is that the full extent of our love?

Patrick didn’t stay in safety—

he walked into the tribes, into the tension, and earned their trust.

Bonhoeffer wrote truth in a time of terror.

Rev. Dr. King marched through hate with nonviolent hope.

And our Lord Jesus—knowing betrayal was near—

still knelt and broke bread.

That kind of faith isn’t passive. It’s prophetic.

It goes where grace is needed most.

It risks rejection to embody Christ’s love.

And that’s our call, too.

Not just to be a church with open doors—

but a church that walks into the world with open hearts.

This is the night.

This is the calling.

This is where the rubber meets the road.

Amen? Amen.

Written by Rev. Todd R. Lattig with the assistance of ChatGPT (OpenAI).