The Sharp Edge of God’s Love

A sermon preached with the people of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.

In the 1860s, the Episcopal Bishop of Vermont (and, later, Presiding Bishop), John Henry Hopkins, published a pamphlet titled A Scriptural, Ecclesiastical, and Historical View of Slavery. In it, he argued American chattel slavery could be justified by scripture. Over the years, this gesture from a northern bishop has been credited with paving the way for a smooth reunification of this denomination coming out of the Civil War. This has historically been a celebrated piece of our story: The Episcopal Church remained peaceable. United. Not divisive. And, isn't that what we're supposed to seek as Christians? Unity?

Well, Jesus seems to have a word about that this morning.

"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword," he says.

Back in 2013, the late beloved writer Rachel Held Evans wrote about the phenomenon of the word "divisive" getting thrown around as an insult within Christianity. She said it is "a common response to those of us who speak from the margins of evangelical Christianity about issues around gender, race, and sexuality, and it's an effective one because it appeals to something most of us value deeply: Christian unity."

I can't help but imagine blessed Rachel would be delighted to see that, in this moment, it turns out preaching the sharp edge of God’s love from and for the margins -- proclaiming the dignity of every human being -- is actually quite good for Christian unity.

I mean, who would've imagined so many Episcopalians preaching the Pope's words from their Sunday pulpits?

One of my favorite recent social media posts noted how funny it would be if an authoritarian movement undergirded by Christian Nationalism -- in its critique of a new spirit of ecumenicism and commitment to Gospel values on display by Roman Catholic and Protestant leaders around the world -- unwittingly brought about the reunification of Western Christianity.[i]

All this ecumenical and interfaith partnership -- what an unexpected, encouraging byproduct of a violent time.

It has just been happening. With joy and common cause. I've felt the Holy Spirit moving in this way for months now. I've watched Her bring us together in new ways. At protests, and vigils, and liturgies. In service, and action, and prayer. Making new friends. Forming new connections. Building power. And sharing together the sharp message of God's desire for the flourishing of all people.

I daresay we know now -- as a church, as an institution, as people -- that "keeping the peace" when it meant defending the sin of slavery is not something to celebrate. It is, in fact, something to confess and repent of.[ii]

So many of our struggles as a church are a result of failing to remember Jesus' words to us this morning; his warning that following him will not always be easy. Will not always keep the peace. Will have a sharp edge.

Whenever we proclaim the truth of God's love for all people; that in God's eyes every human being is “of more value than many sparrows,” every hair on every head counted and precious — in a world of systems that rely on exclusion and oppression, somebody who benefits from those systems is going to call that love divisive.

In 2019, on the morning Shannon MacVean-Brown was handed John Henry Hopkins's pastoral staff as she -- a Black woman -- took up the same office as Bishop of Vermont 150 years later, her father, the Rev. Canon Ronald Spann, preached. He said:

"The irony has not been lost that Shannon as the 11th Bishop of Vermont succeeds the first Bishop of Vermont, John Henry Hopkins, who didn't show up in the way that he needed to show up when the church needed him, in the years leading up to the Civil War, and instead in 1861 took it upon himself to write a book full of scripture texts proving why slavery is okay, and why the abolitionists should not be trying to abolish slavery. And in walks number 11 this morning."

At this, the entire room erupted into standing ovation applause. And then … when the room had settled down, Canon Spann reminded us: "[but] remember -- justification -- brother John Henry's alright. God's got him covered."

That's how sharp God's love is. Even those who stray so far. Known. Loved. Precious. Just consider that for a moment …

I know. Grace. Sharp indeed.

"Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword."

The sharp edge of God's love does not leave the oppressed or the oppressors abandoned. That love is right there, always reaching toward all of us; transformation is right there. If we allow ourselves to be changed.

The sharp edge of God’s love cuts through every lie that says some people matter more than others. Every system built on domination. Every attempt to limit who belongs. And that cutting can feel like division.

The Collect for Juneteenth we prayed this morning asks God to: "Grant us grace to contend fearlessly against evil and to make no peace with oppression."

Not because we seek conflict, or division. But because sometimes what we call “peace” is more like “comfort.” “Order.” “The status quo.” And that is not Gospel peace.

Gospel peace asks us to stand with those whose dignity is denied. And, to proclaim that every human being is made in the image of God. The oppressed, the oppressor … and everyone in between (and that's most of us, I suspect). Every single one. Beloved.

And that proclamation will feel divisive. In 1862. In 2026. And in every age when the Gospel confronts the powers of this world. Because God's love is boundless. And it is sharp. As sharp as a sword.

[i] I really wanted to include the link to this post that I saw on Bluesky, but alas, could not find it! If anyone can point me to it, I’ll give credit where credit is most definitely due!

[ii] This is not to suggest the Episcopal Church does not have a long way to go in terms of repenting of the sins of our racist past and indeed present. It’s a long road, and we are learning together.