Already Beloved, Already Home

Introduction

Friends, today’s scriptures give us starkly different images...

Jeremiah shows us the devastation of storms...

While Jesus speaks of a shepherd who searches and a woman who rejoices.

Together, they name the harm human communities cause and the relentless love of God that seeks us anyway.

I want to begin with a word that has carried hope and pain in the church…

Inclusion.

For some, it sounds like an open door.

However, in practice, inclusion has too often been a condition.

Churches have said, “You are welcome here, but not in leadership.”

Others have said, “We accept you, but only if you remain celibate.”

I recall a town hall during the disaffiliation period in our denomination where one person wanted their church to remain in the United Methodist Church because her granddaughter was a lesbian.

However, it wasn’t to affirm her daughter but to provide a welcoming place for her to repent.

It’s akin to the “You may come, but we will quietly call your identity sin.”

On the surface, these spaces claim to be welcoming or inclusive...

But to Queer people, they often feel like storms...

...places of tolerance without love...

...community without belonging...

...presence without joy...

That’s the trauma… when the very place that proclaims “you are made in God’s image” becomes the place that diminishes that image.

When inclusion is promised… but not practiced...

...the soul is left wandering...

...wondering if God could rejoice in them.

But here is the Good news, friends...

God’s love has never been conditional.

The shepherd knows the sheep already belongs to the flock.

The woman knows the coin already holds its full value.

God does not wait for us to change in order to celebrate us...

God rejoices because we are God’s own.

That is the heart of affirmation...

...not a tolerance that says “you may come anyway...”

...but a joy proclaiming, “you are already worthy, already beloved, already home.”

So today, as we listen to Jeremiah’s lament and Luke’s joy, we ask an essential question: How can the church stop being the storm and start being the celebration?

Naming the Storm of Exclusion

Jeremiah paints the storm with searing honesty...

...a hot wind, so fierce it doesn’t cleanse or refine… but only devastates.

It leaves the land barren, the skies dark, the people reeling.

The prophet calls his community “foolish” and “without understanding...”

...because though they are clever in doing harm...

...they have forgotten how to do good.

Isn’t that the danger for us too?

You can put all the right buzzwords on your website...

love,

acceptance,

all are welcome,

inclusion,

belonging...

...sound great and Jesus-like… but if you don’t embody those words...

...if your welcome comes with conditions...

...then perhaps you too are without understanding.

Friends… that is the ache of this text...

...the people God calls “my beloved” and “my poor people” are battered by the very storm of their own making.

When I listen to the voices of our queer siblings who have endured church trauma, I hear the same lament.

Instead of a sanctuary, they found a scorching wind.

Instead of healing, they were left scattered,

without belonging,

and often without hope.

Jeremiah’s vision helps us name the storm honestly...

...because before we can move to celebration...

...we must first lament the devastation exclusion has caused.

The psalmist echoes Jeremiah’s lament:

“Fools say in their hearts, 'There is no God.”

They are corrupt, they do abominable deeds...

The Lord looks down from heaven to see if any are wise,

But all have gone astray.”

It is a haunting refrain… a community without understanding, doing harm instead of good.

And yet the psalm doesn’t end in despair...

“The Lord is their refuge...

When the Lord restores their fortunes,

Jacob shall rejoice and Israel shall be glad.”

Do you hear it?

Even after the storm, even after foolishness and devastation, there is still hope...

My hope is lost… breathe life upon me...

God’s Relentless Search and Joy

Into that lament, Jesus speaks a different word.

Religious leaders muttered about who belonged at the table and who did not...

Jesus answers with a story.

A shepherd leaves ninety-nine sheep to find the one that has wandered.

A woman turns her whole house upside down until she finds her lost coin.

And when they succeed, there is

no hesitation,

no conditions,

no “but.”

There is only joy.

There is only celebration.

The truth is this…

The sheep was always part of the flock.

The coin never lost its value.

The belovedness of God’s children is never up for debate.

For our queer siblings whom the storm of exclusion has battered, this is the good news…

...you are not lost to God.

You are not a problem to be solved...

...or a sin to be tolerated.

Friend, sibling…

You are sought...

You are cherished...

God rejoices over you...

Heaven throws a party at your belonging.

The church’s calling, then, is to embody that same joy.

On behalf of my clergy colleagues…

On behalf of my siblings in laity...

I am sorry.

Let us stop being the storm and start being the celebration.

To search until all are found… and then to rejoice....

...without hesitation,

...without conditions,

....without reserve.

From Storm to Celebration

So the question comes back to us: How can the church stop being the storm and start being the celebration?

We must be truth-tellers.

Storms of exclusion have left scars.

For too long, the church has cloaked harm in the language of love…

...calling people “welcome” while keeping them at arm’s length...

...offering inclusion with conditions.

To stop being the storm, we must repent of how we have scattered the wounded that God has loved.

We must remember what God has already declared.

The sheep was always part of the flock.

The coin never lost its value.

Our queer siblings are not on the margins of God’s love...

...they are at the center of God’s joy.

We must embody celebration, which means creating spaces where affirmation is not just spoken but practiced...

Where leadership… sacraments… and community life… fully reflect the dignity of all God’s children.

It means rejoicing out loud… throwing the party heaven is already throwing...

...until those who once left scattered find themselves at home.

Kerygmatic Fulfillment

Friends… here is the good news...

God has never stopped searching...

...never stopped rejoicing...

...never stopped calling us beloved.

The storms of exclusion are not God’s will, and they do not get the last word.

At University United Methodist Church, we declare this gospel every time we gather.

“We embrace diversity in all forms—across faith traditions, racial and gender identity, age, ability, and other differences. We are a member of the Reconciling Movement of the United Methodist Church, which means you are welcome here no matter who you are or whom you love.”

This is not just a liturgy we speak… it is the kerygma we live.

The proclamation that what was scattered is gathered.

Those who were once told they were outside are fully at home in God’s household.

That in Christ, there is joy for

every person,

every body,

every story.

So hear the gospel promise today...

You are already beloved.

You are already sought.

You are already home.

...and heaven is already rejoicing over you.

In the name of our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.