Walk toward God’s future.
Be awake to God’s presence.
Live now as people who expect Christ to come.

And the one who reigns from the cross, the one who forgives his executioners, the one who welcomes a dying criminal into Paradise, is the one who will restore all things in the end.

Padre Harris’s voice echoes to us across the years, spoken as he plunged into the dark skies over Normandy: “Take it easy, old man. Whatever you do, take it easy.” 

And so, on this day of remembrance, we hold two truths together: we miss them deeply, and they are held securely.

Today, as we celebrate our patronal feast, we are invited not only to remember the saints but to become them.

You don’t need to move mountains or uproot trees. You just need to trust God with the next step.

Jeremiah’s tears are not wasted. They are a prayer. They are a protest. They are a testimony that even in grief, God has not abandoned the people.

As we lift high the cross in our worship today, let us also lift it high in our lives: in the way we love, in the way we forgive, in the way we trust God’s power to bring life out of death.

For the same God who shapes us with firm hands is the God who loves us beyond measure.

That is the paradox of discipleship: we give away to keep. So what does this mean for us, practically?

The life Jesus describes is not easy. It asks us to loosen our grip on wealth and possessions. It invites us to trust God enough to let go of fear. It calls us to live generously in a world that tells us to look out for ourselves first.

But it is also a life of joy, because it is grounded in the promise that God’s kingdom is already ours.

The life of prayer is not for the faint of heart. It will stretch you. It will confront your ego. It will sometimes feel like nothing is happening. But if you stay with it—if you keep showing up—God will meet you.

So do not be afraid to go out. The harvest is plentiful. You don’t need to be perfect. You don’t need to have all the answers. You just need to be faithful. You just need to go as you are—with peace in your heart and Christ’s name on your lips.

Jesus is still asking, “Do you love me?” And if your heart stirs at all, say yes. Say it again tomorrow. Say it with trembling hands and uncertain feet.

So, as we step into this summer—a time of rest and re-creation—may we do so with intention. Let this be more than just a break. Let it be Sabbath.

So let us come to the altar today with open hearts and empty hands. Let us receive again the Spirit of the living God, poured out upon all flesh. Let us be kindled by the fire of love, made bold in our witness, and gentle in our peace.