God Keeps Promises to the Dead

God Keeps Promises to the Dead

A land company promised poor settlers nearly two million acres of North Texas. For some of them the promise fell apart and left only graves on the prairie. That is where this sermon begins, at a roadside marker in Grapevine, and it turns out to be where Paul begins too. In Romans 4 he points us to a promise made to a man whose body was as good as dead and a womb that was closed, and he tells us why that promise held when so many others break. It never rested on anyone's strength. It rested on grace. This is not a lesson about having enough faith. It is the announcement that the God who makes the promise is the God who gives life to the dead, in a closed womb, in a house full of mourners, and in a sealed tomb outside Jerusalem. Part of Roman Roads, a summer series walking straight through Paul's letter to the Romans, one passage at a time, each week paired with a real Texas historical marker standing on the roads around us. Readings: Romans 4:13-25 and Matthew 9:18-26Marker: The Peters Colony in Tarrant County and the Hedgcoxe War (Grapevine and The Colony)

God is the Center

You leave vacation days on the table. You overschedule the summer. You live like the whole thing falls apart if you stop. This Trinity Sunday sermon is the Gospel’s answer to that exhaustion: you are not the main character of the story. God is.Drawing on Genesis 1, Psalm 8, 2 Corinthians 13, and the Great Commission in Matthew 28, we walk through what the Trinity actually means for a tired life. The Father creates you and calls you good before you do anything. The Son redeems you, and nothing you do or fail to do adds to or subtracts from the cross. The Spirit sends you, not because God needs you, but because God invites you. The outcome was never yours to secure.You are a creature made in love. A sinner held by grace. A servant accompanied by presence. The story does not depend on you. You can rest.St. Martin’s Episcopal Church | Keller, TexasReadings: Genesis 1:1-2:4a, Psalm 8, 2 Corinthians 13:11-13, Matthew 28:16-20

The Gifts of the Holy Spirit

In this Pentecost Sunday message, the Rev. Mark Odieny opens with a disarmingly honest confession: as a youth leader in Kenya, he once faked speaking in tongues to meet the expectations of his peers. That moment of pretending becomes the launching pad for a frank exploration of how deeply human the desire to perform and impress truly is.Drawing on 1 Corinthians, Mark connects the divisions in the ancient church at Corinth to familiar dynamics in modern Texas, where extreme wealth and poverty often sit side by side, and where certain churches are built around the celebrity of a single pastor's gifts. He challenges the congregation to see how spiritual gifts, when turned into status markers, can become the very things that divide the Body of Christ.The heart of the message is a vivid personal story: a wire brush injury on a factory floor that took Mark off work for a week, despite affecting only a small patch of his thigh. The whole body suffers when any part is wounded. The same is true of the church.Key takeaways:- Every member of the Body of Christ carries a necessary gift, from preaching to ushering to caring for restless five-year-olds in the pew- A bicycle chain is strongest at its weakest link- Diversity is not a problem to manage; it is the source of the church's beauty and strengthThe sermon closes with a simple, joyful Pentecost invitation: "Let us be different."

The Reason Nobody Wants to Hear About Your Faith (And How to Fix It)

What does your mom have to do with evangelism? More than you think. This sermon starts with a simple question: if you wanted to tell someone about a woman who shaped your life, what would you say? You wouldn't hand them a spreadsheet. You wouldn't list her measurable outputs. You'd testify -- about how she loved you, showed up for you, changed you. So why do we think sharing our faith looks like winning a debate? Drawing on 1 Peter 3, this message reframes "always be ready to give an account" away from intellectual self-defense and toward something far more honest: testimony. Something happened. It changed me. Let me tell you about it. The hope Peter is talking about isn't a vague feeling that things will work out. It's the specific, resurrection-grounded claim that we are free to live differently right now -- free to do good even when it costs something, free to love even when it's easier not to. That's a hope worth knowing well enough to say out loud.

God's Mercy is Bigger Than You Think!

On the Fifth Sunday of Easter, Fr. Alan Bentrup preaches from Acts 7, John 14, and 1 Peter 2 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Keller, Texas. Two of the most misused texts in the New Testament show up in this week's readings. John 14 has been turned into a border checkpoint. 1 Peter 2 has been stamped onto a flag. Both readings have been used to draw the circle small and keep people out. But then Luke slips a single sentence into the story of Stephen's martyrdom: the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. The man who wrote half the New Testament was holding the coats. This sermon asks what it means to worship a God whose mercy is bigger than our categories, bigger than our politics, bigger than our preferences, and bigger than the lines we have drawn around who deserves it. St. Martin's Episcopal Church | Keller, Texas Easter 5, Year A | Acts 7:55-60, Psalm 31, 1 Peter 2:2-10, John 14:1-14