Not Orphaned

5.10.2026

6th Sunday of Easter

Texts: Acts 17:22-31 | Psalm 66:8-20 | 1 Peter 3:13-22 | John 14:15-21

Easter blessings to you.

I still remember the first time I read what Paul did in Athens in Acts 17. I felt energized. I felt like Paul became a mentor to me.

Paul is brilliant.

He walks into a city full of idols, and instead of judging them, he finds a doorway.

He says, “I see that you are very spiritual in every way.”

Now they are ready to listen what he is going to say.

Then he tells them:

The God you’re searching for—the God you don’t yet know—is the One who made the world, who gives breath, who gives life, who wants to be found, who wants to live with us.

Some believed.

Some hesitated.

When I was a teenager, I was a lot like those Athenians—

worshipping an unknown god or bowing to a god I pieced together

from my culture, from temples, from whatever seemed powerful or comforting at the time.

So I understand that hesitation.

I was particular—stubborn, really—about what I believed. I didn’t want to switch one belief for another unless I had evidence.

Until one day, I was tired of pretending I had everything together, scared of making all the decisions on my own, and watching my parents get divorced.

I asked a classmate (the only Christian in my class),

“What’s the point of going to a small group, praying, and talking about God?”

I was very goal‑oriented.

So I asked, “How does that make our lives different?”

And she said something similar to what Jesus said in John 14,

words that changed my life:

“We won’t be like orphans. Once you experience the kind of love Jesus teaches, you want to keep going back—not just for yourself, but for each other.”

That was the first time I heard that faith wasn’t about proving something

or only feeding one’s own needs.

It was about belonging.

It was about building one another up.

It was about being loved into a new life that is contagious.

Later, when I came to this country, I met more people of faith.

And very soon, I found someone I could ask all my theological questions to.

That person happened to be the man who later became my husband.

He helped me see what Peter urges in 1 Peter 3:

“Always be ready to explain the hope that is in you—with gentleness and respect.”

He was always patiently answering my countless questions and explaining what his hope in God was about.

Then I got to know a seminary professor.

And I did the same thing to her as I did to my husband.

So she told me, “You need to go to seminary.”

And in those years in seminary, my life felt like Psalm 66:

I felt that God kept me among the living—people who live with hope in them.

My faith was tested over and over but not shaken,

for God always answered my prayers.

And I learned to offer back to God what God has given to me. (I'm still learning...)

This is why I love interim ministry.

I get to see people’s love for God from place to place.

I get to hear stories of how people build each other up.

Whenever I see the body of Christ expand,

it’s because someone chooses love over fear.

It’s also because someone shows up for another person.

Jesus said in John 14:12:

“Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do, and, in fact, will do greater works than these…”

Did you hear that, “You will do greater things than these”?

(these: going back to the Father, preparing a place for his disciples, and doing what they ask in his name.)

So, have you ever wondered what those greater things are?

For a long time, I thought Jesus meant bigger miracles—

walking on water, feeding thousands, raising the dead.

But that’s not what Jesus says.

He says the greater things will happen because the Spirit will live in us.

(Advocate = the Spirit of Truth)

And here is the truth I’ve come to believe:

The greater things are not louder miracles.

The greater things are Spirit‑shaped lives.

And since they are Spirit‑shaped lives, they naturally bear the fruit of the Spirit St. Paul names in Galatians 5:22–23.

Therefore, the greater things are:

• loving when it would be easier to withdraw

  (love)

  
  

• rejoicing in small mercies when circumstances feel heavy

  (joy)

  
  

• speaking peace into anxious spaces when fear is loud

  (peace)

  
  

• practicing patience with people and with ourselves when everything in us wants to rush

  (patience)

  
  

• choosing kindness when cynicism feels safer

  (kindness)

  
  

• acting with generosity when scarcity whispers that we don’t have enough

  (generosity)

  
  

• remaining faithful when trusting God feels thin and fragile

  (faithfulness)

  
  

• responding with gentleness when the world rewards sharpness and outrage

  (gentleness)

  
  

• choosing self‑control when impulses or anger try to take the lead

  (self‑control)

The greater things are what happen when ordinary people—

people like you and me—

live as if we are not orphaned.

And when we live from that place of belonging,

the world sees Jesus again.

That is the greater thing.

That is a miracle.

So as you go into this week, I invite you to carry two questions with you—

questions that open your heart to the Spirit’s leading:

“Where is the Spirit inviting you to do a greater thing this week?”

“Who needs to know they are not orphaned?”

Let these questions walk with you.

Let them shape your seeing.

Let them guide your loving.

Because the Spirit is already at work in you—

and the greater things are already beginning.

And on this Mother’s Day, may you remember

that the God who sends the Spirit to you

is also the God who mothers you—

who gathers you in,

who holds you close,

who refuses to leave you orphaned.

Amen.