Today is Storm Sunday in our Season of Creation. We all know about storms. Last weekend we experienced a violent wind storm, which was quite scary, causing some damage. We can name and honour the elemental forces that shape our world, as well as confronting the human responsibility for climate disruption. The storms we face are not only meteorological — they appear in our politics, economies, theologies, and in our everyday lives.
Storms are potent metaphors for transformation. Pressure builds, lightning strikes, and rain falls. There is fear and awe, destruction and renewal. After the storm passes, skies clear and the air is fresh. Storms remind us of the wildness of creation — and the inevitability of change.
This week, our lectionary gives us two challenging texts: Jeremiah 8:18–9:1 is a raw lament, and Luke 16:1–13 a parable of a shrewd, even dishonest, manager. These readings pull us into the tension between grief and realism, sorrow and strategy. This is where we live. It’s the heart of discipleship in an age of storm.
In Jeremiah’s lament, he isn’t angry. He’s heartbroken. He sees the collapse of Judah looming — politically compromised, morally adrift — and he weeps: “Is there no balm in Gilead?” His grief is love expressed in tears.
In our own age of climate crisis, economic inequality, and social fragmentation, what would it mean for the Church to weep like Jeremiah? To lament:
Coral reefs bleached white,
Families displaced by rising seas,
Tamariki [children – Ed] inheriting a wounded planet,
Systems of wealth, hoarding and poverty,
A church that whispers comfort when it should cry out for justice?
To lament is faithful worship. Jesus did it too: “Jesus wept.” Our sorrow clears space for hope.
Then comes Luke’s unsettling parable. A dishonest manager, knowing he’s about to be fired, secures his future by shrewdly altering debts. And Jesus praises his decisive action — not his ethics, but his urgency.
This isn’t a moral lesson, but a challenge: be wise, bold, real and timely in how you live out the Kingdom. Use what you have, use it for good, and use it now — because the storm is already here.
Together, Jeremiah and Luke give us a spiritual rhythm: Feel deeply. Act wisely.
Blues music teaches us to express sorrow while creating beauty. So too in faith — we must make space not just for praise, but for lament. To cry out injustice, name our pain, and invite transformation. The Spirit stirs us to lament for those things we know to be unjust, but also to act with courage and passion with love, mercy and justice.
Here in Aotearoa [New Zealand – Ed] , we know storms. But we also know kaitiakitanga — the Māori call to care and protect our creation. Today’s readings call us to hold grief and leadership together. To act with urgency and imagination. We need to live out our faith with our feet and our hands.
So, what can we do this week?
We can pray, learn something new about climate change, take a small action like reducing waste, give wisely to help empower changes, and join with others to help them through their storms.
Lament, then rise. Weep, then work. Cry, and then create.
My reflection this morning comes from Phillip Garside, a lay preacher, publisher and a member of Wesley Methodist Church in downtown Wellington, who created for us this series of worship resources celebrating Creation:
Today we stand at a swirling meeting place of currents from Scripture and ocean, of discipleship and ecology, of the personal and the planetary. It is Ocean Sunday, the first Sunday in the Season of Creation, and we are drawn together by the call to look deeper: into Scripture, into our own hearts, and into the ocean’s hidden depths.
Our two readings today come from Philemon and Luke. They seem quite different on the surface, but I believe they share a deep challenge. Both ask us to go beyond surface appearances. Both ask: What does it really mean to follow Jesus? And both call us to costly transformation.
Let’s start with Philemon. This is one of Paul’s shortest letters, but also one of his most subversive. He’s writing from prison, with Timothy alongside him. It’s addressed to Philemon, a church leader, and to co-leaders of the church that met in his home. Notice that Apphia, a woman, is named as an equal partner in leadership. From the earliest gatherings of Jesus-followers, women were also leaders.
Paul is asking Philemon to do something really radical: free Onesimus, his slave. But it’s more than just a plea for releasing to freedom. Paul says, “Receive him no longer as a slave, but as more than a slave – as a beloved brother.” This is a relational revolution. In a society reliant on slavery, Paul doesn’t explicitly condemn the system, but he undermines it by reframing the relationship between Philemon and Onesimus. And the implications are seismic. Paul is saying, in effect, you cannot follow Jesus and treat another believer as property.
What would it mean for us to act on that same conviction today? We don’t operate slave economies, but we live in a world that tolerates exploitation in many forms. Are we prepared to disrupt the status quo, as Paul did, for the sake of love, equality, and justice? There’s a cost here. Philemon will lose the economic advantage of Onesimus’s labour. His community might question his choices. It’s messy. But love often is.
Now to Luke. Here, Jesus delivers a shocking line: “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.” Let’s be clear. I don’t believe Jesus is telling us to literally hate our families. This is rhetorical overstatement – hyperbole – a way to jolt us his listeners into paying attention. And we need this sometimes. The writer of Luke uses strong language here to underscore a real point: following Jesus isn’t just a lifestyle tweak. It requires reordering our values. It costs us something.
Jesus goes on to speak of taking up the cross, of counting the cost. Discipleship is not about comfort; it is about transformation.
And so today, Ocean Sunday, we turn to the ocean as both symbol and teacher. The oceans cover three-quarters of the earth’s surface. From space, they dominate the planet and from New Zealand’s perspective, we know it intimately. We are an island nation – cradled, protected and challenged by the Pacific. Pasifika spirituality offers us a profound lens here. The Tongan concept of Va describes the sacred relational space between people, a space that must be honoured and tended. It reminds us that the ocean doesn’t divide the Pacific Islands. It connects them. The sea is the sacred space that links us, that carries our stories, that shapes our identities.
Painting by Jackie Francis
Siosifa Pole, a Tongan Methodist minister, in his book A Tongan Migrant’s Way, wrote of the ocean as a space of freedom and connection. Each island may be autonomous, but the ocean touches every shore. Likewise, each person is unique, but the Spirit of God connects us in a shared ocean of being. Tauhi-va – keeping the in-between space sacred – is how we live well together.
What might it mean to “count the cost”, not just as individuals, but collectively, for the sake of our shared oceans? The ocean offers us food – kai moana. It sustains ecosystems. It shapes climate. It reflects the interconnectedness of all life. But it is also under threat. Rising temperatures, plastic pollution, overfishing: these are the modern equivalents of slavery and exploitation, this time not of people, but of creation.
As Christians, we cannot say we follow The Way of Jesus and ignore this. So we ask: What’s below the surface? Beneath the calm blue, there are currents of crisis. But there are also currents of hope. I recommend David Attenborough’s film Ocean, which makes us aware of our many challenges; but at the end David leaves us with the thought that all is not lost, if … and that “if” is up to us.
As Paul challenges us to change how we relate to one another, the ocean calls us to change how we relate to the planet. If Jesus says discipleship must cost us something, our discipleship today must include climate action, ecological repentance, and learning to live more simply. How do we, as followers of Christ, live out a transformed ethic of love? How do we treat the Onesimuses of our day with full dignity? How do we enter the va with creation itself – honouring our relational space with the ocean, the land, the creatures?
Let me offer two examples. First: A small coastal community in Fiji has moved their whole village inland, to escape rising seas. They sing hymns as they go. They weep for the ground they leave behind. They pray for those who will one day follow.
Second: Here in this place, Tairua residents block access to their main wharf after seeing “wholesale slaughter” of an elusive and unprotected fish species, pink Maomao. This is still being followed up, and because of their action, there is hope.
Discipleship. Cost. Transformation. Following Jesus doesn’t mean escaping the world’s problems. It means stepping into them with love. It means standing with Onesimus. It means seeing the sacredness of the ocean, not as something to cross or control, but as something to respect, protect, and learn from. This Ocean Sunday, may we take up the challenge of Paul and the warning of Jesus.
Let us: – Release what binds others. – Reorder our lives to reflect God’s deep values. – Honour the sacred space between us and the earth. – And listen to what lies beneath the surface.
“I have come to set the world on fire!” said Jesus, and you could be forgiven for thinking that he has indeed returned to complete his work! It seems that in recent years the world is on fire, physically and metaphorically. In the last couple of weeks I have read about wildfires in Greece, Turkey, North America, Portugal and Spain. Our weather is becoming more extreme. The world, it seems, is ravaged by wildfires these days – out of control, dangerous and often fatal.
So, is the world on fire?
In Scripture, fire analogies are often used, referring to punishment or refinement and improvement. Fire imagery is present in the Old Testament. Deuteronomy, for example, describes God’s anger as “a fire that burns to the depths of Sheol, the realm of the dead”. Some New Testament scriptures describe the “fires of hell” as a place of eternal punishment for the unrepentant. Matthew in Chapter 25 speaks of “everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels” and refers to “eternal punishment” for the wicked, contrasting it with eternal life for the righteous. Other verses use phrases like “unquenchable fire”. Such descriptions relate to fire used as punishment.
Imagery related to fire being used for refinement describes God’s refining process, which purifies and strengthens faith. Zechariah speaks of God refining a remnant of his people “as silver is refined”. In those days, silver was refined by fire using a process called cupellation, where silver-bearing ore was heated in a furnace with lead. The lead and other impurities oxidised and were absorbed into the porous material of the cupel (the vessel), leaving behind relatively pure silver.
Isaiah noted that God refines people “in the furnace of suffering”, highlighting that challenges and trials can serve a similar purpose to fire in purifying and strengthening believers.
You may know that ‘slash and burn’ is still a common yet crude agricultural method of fertilising the soil in some parts of the world. Farmers in many parts of the world regularly set fire to their land to produce ash which promotes plant regrowth. And we are all too familiar with our neighbours in Oz having to deal with their wildfires. In their case, a method of wildfire management is to have a controlled burn-off – setting alight the dry undergrowth during periods of settled weather to remove the fuel for future wildfires. In both these examples of fire improving (and protecting) the landscape, the outcome following fire is lush regrowth.
So, how do we interpret Jesus’s reference to bringing fire to the world? Is he talking about punishment, or refinement and improvement?
Let’s look at a couple of the first verses again from today’s Gospel reading: “I have come to set the world on fire, and I wish it were already burning! Do you think I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I have come to divide people against each other!”
Jesus, the Prince of Peace, is challenging our position. Are we for him or against him? His urgency in this call is apparent. Hear his language! He wants us to choose the truth, and makes no bones about the fact that the truth will divide before it heals. His amplification of the division that is likely to occur as we decide where we stand, gives credence to the type of fire he is bringing. A wildfire, certainly, not punishing, more refining and improving. And like all wildfires, at a cost. His coming forces a decision. We know his word reveals hearts. His call demands a response. We can read the weather, Jesus says, but can we read the signs of the times? Can we see that now is the time to choose faithfulness, and to follow him wholeheartedly?
So, Jesus using the fire analogy to describe his work on Earth should resonate with us. Christ’s fire was about burning away our dross (our impurities). Remember why he came. Christ the Saviour came to save, restore us to God, to put things right. And while he gave warnings about how difficult the process would be, we have assurances that we will survive it.
“When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour.” (From Isaiah 43)
Jesus was dealing with people who had started out serving the Lord but had ended up serving themselves. Originally intent on bringing light into the world, they were now allowing darkness to rule. Outwardly ‘holy’, inwardly rotten! Jesus was pointing out that his mission was to turn that around; and it would not be easy. People would have to choose where they stood – status quo or transformation – and he couldn’t guarantee which way things would go. Division and unrest, without doubt. His way bringing restoration with God, sticking with the old way moving them even further away from him.
Now let’s see if I can link in the other readings. The reading from Psalm 80 is a plea for restoration. The psalmist uses a vine to describe the plight of Israel, a vine that God had grafted in but which is feeling neglected and threatened. His plea is for God to return and tend to it, protecting it from harm. The vine is Israel, of course. He wants God to step in and turn its people back to him. It is a plea for justice and mercy. The psalmist concludes that if God intercedes to save and restore Israel, the vine, then it would never abandon him again. “Revive us so we can call on your name once more!” Their faith would be restored.
The Hebrews reading is a call to faith endurance. The author was encouraging the Hebrews to persevere, in faith, amid their trials. We heard about a variety of biblical heroes, whose stories we may know, who exhibited great faithfulness, laying God’s platform for our eventual restoration. The exploits of the Israelites under Moses and Joshua are mentioned. Rahab, the woman of ill-repute; Gideon, who (gave away Bibles?) led the Israelites to victory over the Midianites; Barak, who led the Israelites to victory over the Canaanites; Samson, the man with superhuman strength; Jephthah, who led the Israelites to victory over the Ammonites; David, King of Israel; and Samuel, a prophet and judge who managed to meld the tribes of Israel into a kingdom, are all named!
Each of these folk had periods of faithful obedience, despite their trials, that are recognised, celebrated and recommended to us as examples we should follow.
The story of Jephthah, one of the lesser known of those mentioned, is found in the Book of Judges. His story is a very tragic tale. In Chapter 11, the Israelites “again did what was evil in the sight of the Lord … they forsook the Lord and did not serve him. So the anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel, and he sold them into the hand of the Philistines and into the hand of the Ammonites”. Jephthah was one of the ‘judges’ of Israel. He was also known as a mighty warrior who led the Israelites to victory against those Ammonites. However, he made a rash vow to sacrifice the first thing that came out of his house upon his victorious return from battle against them. The unfortunate consequence was that his precious daughter was the first to run out to greet him, leading to her eventual sacrifice … [If there is an obvious lesson for us in this account it should be to consider thoroughly before making vows and promises, because to keep them could prove very costly indeed.]
So, the Hebrews excerpt celebrates those who endured suffering for the sake of God’s promises. They were faithful, despite adversity and tragedy.
But the pinnacle example for us, of course, is Jesus, who “because of the joy awaiting him, endured the cross”. It is his example that we look to as the ultimate encouragement to faith. It is his example that provides us with our present-day motivation and responsibility.
The fire that Jesus was talking about isn’t a fire he brings to hurt or harm us. It is a fire he brings to transform, restore and meld us. A fire that burns away the things that keep us from him, and others. A fire that ignites in us a passion for him, and others. A fire that we can take to the whole world …
Today’s ‘Collect’ provides us with an appropriate conclusion. Let this be our prayer today, for ourselves and each other: Come, Holy Spirit, to all baptised in your name, that we may turn to good whatever lies ahead. Give us passion, give us fire; make us transform the world from what it is, to what you have created it to be. This we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
The Lord’s Prayer has been spoken about many times by many different people in the past, and I don’t think I could add anything more to what has been said. Clearly, this passage in Luke is about prayer, but not just prayer. It is actually about life in general. The first word that came to mind when I read the readings for today was ‘persistence’, and the second one was ‘perseverance’, so I was pleased to find that Elisabeth Johnson in her commentary (refer here) supported me in this thought. The word used in the Greek (in verse 8) is anaideia, which translates as persistence. But a better translation may have been shamelessness. I will come back to this.
Those of us who are parents and grandparents know how persistent children can be when they want something. “Mum, can I have some chocolate? Dad, when are you going to fix my bike? When can we go to the beach?” and, of course, when we’re going somewhere that takes a while, “Are we there yet?” They will ask a million times until they get what they want or are told very strongly not to ask again.
Last week we heard about Mary and Martha, and how Jesus told Martha that Mary had chosen the “better” thing when she sat at his feet and listened, rather than busying herself with all the preparing as Martha was doing. But today we hear that God also listens to us when we have issues that are bothering us for one reason or another. God wants to, and does, listen, even when we think he’s not. 1 Peter 5:7 says, “Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares for you.”
But does God need us to keep praying persistently because we think that he is deaf, or is not listening? Or do we think once is enough and that God does not need to be bothered any further? No! God is not deaf and is always listening. Someone wrote, “Persistence in prayer is the test to determine whether or not we are really serious about our request.” And it is not just in prayer that we need to be persistent. That writer went on to say, “All worthwhile goals in life are reached by disciplined efforts. Why should we expect less in our prayer efforts?”
Just preceding this morning’s Genesis reading (in verse 17), God had considered not telling Abraham what he was about to do in Sodom, but then decides that he will tell him after all, having chosen Abraham to keep the way of the Lord by doing righteousness and justice, so that God may bring about what he had promised.
Then (verses 20 onwards) we hear a great example of persistence, perseverance or shamelessness. Abraham had remained standing in the place he was in when God had spoken about the sin in Sodom and Gomorrah, while the others had moved towards Sodom. Now he begins asking the Lord if he was indeed going to sweep away the righteous as well as the wicked. What if fifty righteous people were found in Sodom? Abraham kept asking boldly, some may even say, audaciously, until he got down to asking if just ten, or even five righteous people could be found. Abraham was persistent, even shameless, in his asking. We don’t know why he kept asking but perhaps it was because he knew his nephew Lot and his family lived there. If we read on in the following chapters we find that Lot was indeed saved from the destruction of Sodom, but not his wife (she was turned into a pillar of salt for looking back, when they had been told not to do that).
Another example of perseverance is in Luke 18 when a widow comes and persistently asks a judge for justice against an opponent. He finally gives in to her request.
So, to illustrate that God can be trusted to respond to our prayers, Jesus tells this parable of the persistent man who goes to a friend at midnight. Hospitality was of paramount importance in the biblical world, and when the guest arrived – even unexpectedly at midnight – there was no question that hospitality must be extended. But the man does not have the provisions to do so, so he goes to his friend to borrow some, even though he must wake up the entire household.
I wonder how we would have reacted? I suspect some of us would have been pretty upset, even angry, especially with the persistent knocking on the door. Or, some of us may feel empathy for the woken friend. Elisabeth Johnson goes on to say that in the culture of the biblical world, it is the woken-up friend who is behaving badly. The ability of his friend to provide hospitality, and thus his honour, is at stake. The woken-up friend would incur dishonour if he failed to help in this essential obligation. So, he will respond because of social pressure at the very least.
Jesus then continues, “So I say to you, Ask and it will be given to you, search and you will find, knock and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”(11:9-10)
Elisabeth Johnson feels that this is the most difficult part of the passage to teach, because our experience contradicts Jesus’s words. So often we have asked and not received; searched and not found. In spite of our most fervent prayers for their health and safety, we have lost loved ones. In spite of the fervent prayers of people around the world, daily we hear of tragedies of violence, hunger, disease, and natural disasters. If God is a loving parent who desires what is good and life giving (11-13), why do so many prayers seem to go unanswered? There is no simple answer to this question. One writer says, I don’t know why some prayers seem to be answered and others are not. I don’t have any good answers or explanations but I have heard some really bad ones: “You didn’t pray hard enough.” “You didn’t have enough faith.” “You were asking for the wrong thing.”
Psalm 138 is a prayer exhorting us to be persistent in prayer, praise of our God, and thankfulness for his unfailing love and faithfulness. David, the writer, also says that as soon as he prays, God answers him, encourages him by giving him strength. Maybe you feel that God doesn’t answer you straight away, but be assured, he does answer at the right time, God’s time, but it may not be what you had hoped for or expected.
So, we dare to be persistent in our prayers, to keep bringing our needs and hopes to our heavenly Father, because Jesus tells us to do so, as he himself did, trusting in God’s loving purpose for us, and remembering to give thanks. Again, the Psalm tells us to give thanks with our whole hearts. 1 Thessalonians 5:17,18 says, “Pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”
We should always thank God when we have asked, even before we receive the answer, because this shows we have faith in him.
stfrancischurchtairuanz 