September 7, 2025 – The Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost
Formed and Re-formed for Christ
This morning, we step into September with its familiar blend of excitement and gravity. The air feels different—crisper, sharper—as though Creation itself knows that a season of renewal and re-commitment is at hand. In the life of our parish, this is the beginning of a new program year: ministries regather, the choir is rehearsing again, Children’s Chapel has returned, and our life together as the Body of Christ deepens in rhythm and commitment. In our wider community, it is the beginning of another school year. Just this past week, children arrived at schools with backpacks that were a little too big for their shoulders and shoes that squeaked on polished floors. Many of them will carry pens, pencils, paper, and crayons provided not just by their families, but by us—by the generosity of this parish, who collected supplies over the summer so that no child would need to begin the year unprepared.
And so, September is a season of beginnings. But it is also a season of challenge. Students return to the demands of learning. Teachers shoulder the responsibility of forming minds and nurturing hearts. And we, as disciples of Jesus, hear again what it means to follow him—not casually, not on our own terms, but with the seriousness and surrender that Jesus describes in today’s Gospel.
The prophet Jeremiah is sent to the potter’s house, where he sees the potter shaping clay upon the wheel. The clay resists; it collapses. But the potter does not discard it. Instead, with patience and care, he begins again, fashioning it into another vessel as seems good to him.
God tells Jeremiah: “Can I not do with you, O house of Israel, just as this potter has done? Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand.”
This is both promise and warning. On the one hand, God’s mercy is clear: he does not throw away the clay when it falters, but reshapes it. On the other hand, clay has no say in the matter. It must yield to the potter’s hand. If it resists, if it hardens, it cannot be formed.
The beginning of a new school year, or a new program year in the parish, is a reminder that we too are clay in the hands of God. None of us is finished. None of us is complete. We are being shaped—through the disciplines of prayer, Scripture, worship, service, and generosity—into vessels that carry God’s grace into the world. The children who open new notebooks at Mulvey, the teachers who arrange desks, the choir members who find their voice again—all of them, all of us, are clay in the potter’s hands, being shaped for purposes beyond our own imagining.
But then comes the Gospel reading, and it is hard. Jesus turns to the crowds following him and speaks words that jar the ear: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, even life itself, cannot be my disciple.”
At first hearing, it sounds as though Jesus calls us to despise those closest to us. But the Greek word here is not about emotional hatred. It is about priority. Jesus is saying that our love for him must be so great, so deep, so complete, that every other attachment—even the most sacred bonds of family—takes second place.
He continues: “Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” Discipleship is not a hobby. It is not one interest among many. It is a reorientation of the whole life—an apprenticeship in surrender, in carrying the cross, in following Christ even when the path leads to sacrifice.
Jesus uses two images: a man building a tower who must count the cost before laying a foundation, and a king going to war who must calculate whether he has enough troops. Both images remind us that discipleship requires intention. Following Jesus is not something we stumble into casually. It requires commitment, deliberation, and courage.
And this is where the beginning of our program year comes into focus. Every September we are given the chance to count the cost again, to ask ourselves: will we yield to the potter’s hand? Will we let God shape us, even if it means letting go of cherished routines, comforts, or assumptions?
Think of all that happens in the life of a parish across a program year:
Children gather for formation, learning not just Bible stories but the habits of prayer and service that shape a lifetime.
Adults enter into study and fellowship, opening themselves to Scripture and conversation that deepens faith.
Worship happens week after week, with choirs, servers, readers, and intercessors giving themselves to God’s glory.
Outreach flows outward—like the school supplies for Mulvey Elementary—tangible signs of God’s love for the community.
None of this is peripheral. None of this is “extra.” These are the ways in which we count the cost of discipleship. These are the ways in which we yield to the potter’s hand, allowing ourselves to be formed, re-formed, and sometimes broken and reshaped for God’s purposes.
I want to return for a moment to those backpacks filled with supplies. They are more than notebooks and pencils. They are parables of the Gospel.
Because when we give a child the tools to learn, we are saying: “You matter. Your future matters. You are not forgotten.” That is the same message God speaks to Israel through Jeremiah: “You are not discarded clay. You are in my hands. I am shaping you.”
And it is the same message Jesus speaks to his disciples: “Yes, the path is costly. Yes, the cross is heavy. But you are mine. And in losing your life for my sake, you will find it.”
Our gifts of school supplies are small sacrifices—money we could have spent elsewhere, time we could have saved. Yet in giving them away, we ourselves are shaped. We learn that the Gospel is never just about us; it is always about the other, always about the neighbor, always about the child who needs to know they are loved.
So what does this September call from us?
Perhaps it calls us to re-commit ourselves to worship, not as something we attend when convenient, but as the heartbeat of our week.
Perhaps it calls us to join an adult formation series, allowing the Word of God and the witness of others to shape us more deeply.
Perhaps it calls us to renewed generosity, seeing in every outreach opportunity—whether to Mulvey Elementary, to Agape, to RaY, or to the stranger in need—an invitation to be clay in the potter’s hands.
Perhaps it calls us to take seriously Jesus’ warning: that discipleship will cost us something. It may cost us time. It may cost us comfort. It may cost us the illusion that our lives are our own.
But in God’s hands, nothing given is wasted. Every sacrifice becomes part of the shaping. Every offering becomes part of the vessel God is fashioning.
As we begin this new program year, as children begin another school year, let us remember: we are clay, and God is the potter. We are disciples, and Jesus is the Master who calls us to take up the cross. The cost is real. But so is the promise.
For the same God who shapes us with firm hands is the God who loves us beyond measure. The same Christ who calls us to give up everything is the Christ who gives us everything in return—grace upon grace, life upon life.
So let us yield to the potter’s hand. Let us count the cost. And let us follow Jesus into this new year with trust, with generosity, and with joy.
Amen.
