“All Authority”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Matthew 28:16-20

September 20, 2026

“What are the consequences of thinking that your intelligence or personality is something you can develop, as opposed to something that is a fixed, deep-seated trait?” [1] 

This is the question psychologist Carol Dweck has spent her life trying to answer. In doing so, she’s become one of those rare psychologists whose ideas and theories have so permeated the zeitgeist that you’ve been impacted by her work even if you’ve never heard her name. 

Dweck is the person who came up with the concept of fixed and growth mindsets. When we believe our skills, talents, intelligence are innate - that we did well on a test because we’re smart or that we scored the winning goal because we’re naturally a good athlete - we’re seeing ourselves through a fixed mindset. 

When we believe that our skills, talents, intelligence are malleable - that we can get a higher grade next time if we work hard or that we can make our sprint a little faster with the right effort - we’re operating with a growth mindset. 

It turns out the internal monologue we have about our efforts, successes, and failures makes an enormous impact on our lives. When we lean into a fixed mindset, we often fail to apply ourselves. A low grade on a test can become a catastrophic incident because it not only means we did poorly on one test, it suddenly means we’re stupid and there’s no point in trying. And we’re less likely to try hard things because we’re so afraid of failure. Meaning, we don’t grow much because we’re not practicing like we could be. 

Conversely, a growth mindset can help us stick with all kinds of challenging tasks. Messing up the presentation might be embarrassing, but it’s not a character judgment. And we have a lot to learn from our failures because there’s always room for growth. 

While recently re-reading Dweck’s 2006 book, Mindset, I had one of those “mind blown” moments. She was writing about how much power we give to other people’s assessments of our skills and worth - and she looked at it through a gendered lens. Dweck writes that women often learn to put a high degree of trust in other people’s opinions of them. As girls, they may be praised often for being pleasing, kind, well-behaved, helpful. And so they feel good about themselves. Which is all well and good until they make a mistake. And someone calls them on it. And suddenly the whole world is disintegrating because “if someone else says it, it must be true.”

Boys, on the other hand, are criticized and scolded often. Dweck and her team found that in an elementary school classroom, boys received eight times the criticism the girls did for their behavior. And, she says, boys are also more likely to tease each other - calling each other names and openly criticising each other. From this, boys may learn not to put too much stock in what others think of them. They might learn to look to their own internal assessments as the authority instead.  

MIND BLOWN. 

I couldn’t help but think of Dweck this week when I read Jesus’s words in Matthew’s Gospel: “all authority on heaven and earth has been given to me.” 

ALL AUTHORITY? On heaven AND earth? That’s a lot of authority! What does that even mean? 

Dweck is talking about authority with her mindsets. Do we look to others to assess our worth? Or do we have an intrinsic sense of it ourselves? Do we allow a fixed or growth mindset to tell us what a high or low test grade means? 

Jesus would say, “You’re overthinking all of this, folks. It’s easy. All authority on heaven and earth has been given to me.” Boom. That’s it. 

Now authority is a word that chafes for many. Perhaps we don’t want to be told what to do. We’ve had bad experiences with giving too much authority away. We’ve been preyed upon by authorities who used their power-over in damaging ways. 

Biblical scholar Osvaldo Vena says that in Matthew’s Gospel the word “authority” is “always used in connection with Jesus’s acts of healing and forgiveness.” He says Christ’s authority is “not an authority that demands people’s submission but rather an authority that empowers and liberates.” [2] 

Authority, like power, is neutral. It becomes healing or harmful depending on who is exercising it and the way in which they do so. 

And so, when Jesus, the one who came to us made in the image of God’s Love, the one who ate with sinners and questioned those in power, the one who healed and taught about love, the one who laid down his life in solidarity with the oppressed - when Jesus says he has all authority, it seems to me this authority is meant to free us, not hem us in.

Because to say that Jesus has all authority is ALSO to say that there are many other powers that do NOT have authority: the numbers in our bank account, our test scores, the aches and pains and limitations of our bodies. To say that Jesus has all authority is to say that unhealthy or abusive relationships, fear and anxiety, addictions and mental health struggles, these do not have ultimate authority. To say that Jesus has all authority is to claim that it’s actually not our algorithms and social media feeds, our boss, the mayor, the governor, the president that have authority over our lives. 

Can I get an Amen? 

At the end of the day, we all have something that is our ultimate authority. Named or not. Examined or not. We all have a God, even if we call it by another name. The question is not whether we have an ultimate authority in our lives: the question is, “what is it?”

Jesus says it’s Love. Everything else gets measured against this plumb line for Jesus: “Love God and love your neighbor and yourself.” His life, his ministry, his death, his resurrection - they all point towards this authority. 

To say that Love has ultimate authority is not just a theological or philosophical claim. Because Love is an action word. Love comes with strings attached. In the profound and powerful words of bell hooks “Love is as love does. Love is an act of will - namely, both an intention and an action.” [3] 

And so we should not be surprised that immediately after Jesus claims all authority on heaven and earth, he launches into concrete expectations for his followers, “Go and share the good news of God’s love with others. Baptize them and welcome them into the community. Teach them so they can keep learning alongside you. And always remember, you don’t go alone. I am with you. Always.”

If we are to go and do all the things Love asks us to do, we need to get serious about preparing for the journey. Because there are a lot of wannabe authorities that would love to sell us their version of reality instead. If we are to go and do all the things Love asks of us, we have to stop spending so much time doom scrolling and numbing and consuming the twenty-four hour news cycle that continually tells us we’re all about to die in the next decade. 

And lest you think I’m picking on you, I’m preaching to myself here, too. 

I usually do a pretty good job of telling those wannabe authorities to “shhhhh” and simmer down. But there are days when they seem so loud. Days when I want to curl up under a cozy blanket and hide from all the bad things in our world. 

When I do that - when I retreat to the fortress of a dark blanket on my couch - I try to remember to carry Jesus’s words with me. Because his promise that all authority belongs to him is a balm for my weary soul. 

If Jesus has all authority, it means that the relentless news cycle about AI is scary, but it’s not the ultimate authority in our lives. 

If Jesus has all authority, it means that climate change is terrifying, but it’s not the end of the story. 

If Jesus has all authority, it means elections will come and go. It means there is no politician or political party that has all the answers - though they sure would like you to think so. 

If Jesus has all authority, it means that when the midterms are over, our work is the same. Keep showing up. Keep listening and learning. Keep speaking up on behalf of the least, the lost, and the last. Keep telling stories that bring healing and hope. Keep pointing to Love as the ultimate authority. Keep doing justice, loving mercy, walking humbly. 

The work doesn’t change because the authority never changes. 

It’s always Love. 

In this world filled with wannabe authorities, where, in your life do you find space to commune with Love? It might be in daily prayer or time with the Bible. It might be through music or art. Or chopping vegetables or weeding your garden. Maybe you find Love when you’re volunteering or hugging a tree. If all authority belongs to Jesus then we are invited and compelled to nurture daily practices that help us tune out the wannabes and tune into the Christ Force that surrounds us. 

Last Friday, on the 25th anniversary of September 11th, I found myself in a retreat center in rural Oklahoma, beginning the day with silent prayer. I was surprised to find that what I needed most in that time was to cry. I wept for all the horrific things that have come to pass in the last 25 years - September 11th, war after war, school shootings, the horrors of white supremacy, the rise of fascism, the pain of our planet, COVID….plus, of course, the all the difficulties unique to my own life. 

And when I reached the end of my tears, I received a gift. It was quiet. I had to really focus to make out the words. But it sounded like this: “Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” 

Always. Always. Always. 

Thanks be to God. 

NOTES:

[1] Carol Dweck. Mindset. 

[2] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/the-holy-trinity/commentary-on-matthew-2816-20-9 

[3] bell hooks. All About Love. 

“A Tale of Two Coats”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Matthew 14:22-33

August 30, 2026

This is a tale of two coats. One mythical. One lyrical. Both reminders of the power of the stories we tell.

Now, I don’t typically make a habit of eulogizing every famous person who dies. And I hope you’ll forgive me the next time an artist who impacted your life in a significant way passes and they don’t get mentioned from the pulpit. But when I saw that the scripture for this Sunday was about Joseph’s coat of many colors and Dolly Parton passed from this life the very same week? There was no way I could preach on Joseph’s coat without also considering Dolly’s. 

Dolly tells the story of her coat of many colors in a song that she wrote when she was 23 years old. She reflects on her childhood and tells the story of how, one fall, it was growing cold outside and she still didn’t have a winter coat yet. So her mother, Avie Lee, sat down to make her one. The family was quite poor and Dolly’s mom made the coat from scraps of rags someone had donated to them. As her mother pieced together the small scraps of fabric, she told young Dolly the story of Joseph from the Bible, suggesting that perhaps Dolly, too, would be blessed by the coat and find “good luck and happiness.” 

Dolly was so proud to wear her coat of many colors. She thought it was beautiful, and when her mother gave it to her, sealed with a kiss, she was delighted. But she had a hard time convincing the other kids at school of the coat’s beauty. They saw a poor girl dressed in rags. She tried to explain to them the real story of the coat. She wrote:

And, oh, I couldn't understand it, for I felt I was rich

And I told 'em of the love my mama sewed in every stitch

And I told 'em all the story Mama told me while she sewed

And how my coat of many colors was worth more than all their clothes.

But they didn't understand it and I tried to make them see

That one is only poor only if they choose to be

Now I know we had no money, but I was rich as I could be

In my coat of many colors my mama made for me [1] 

Her mother’s love as a fierce armor against the autumn winds and taunts of schoolchildren, Dolly knew that she was rich in things that mattered in life. She had her family’s love and she had a dream of becoming someone special. Her coat of many colors gave her a sense of worthiness and a sure foundation which allowed her to withstand the bullies at school. 

Avie Lee could have simply made the rag-coat for Dolly and given it to her with a hug and a kiss. And perhaps Dolly would have loved it, still. But her mama gave her something else along with the coat: a powerful story about hope for the future. That story enhanced young Dolly’s sense of belovedness, allowing her to challenge the misguided perceptions of her classmates. 

The power of stories is in the telling and re-telling. And in the hearing and re-hearing. 

This is why we, people of the book, gather week after week to hear and re-hear, tell and re-tell our sacred stories. A story is never the same twice. Even if the words are said in the exact same order, the hearers hear with new ears. And the story continues to live and breathe and inspire in fresh ways. Isn’t that miraculous? Stories are living things. They shape our understanding of the world, God, and our place in the midst of it all. 

Avie Lee’s interpretation of the Joseph story certainly had a powerful effect on young Dolly. And while we’ll never know the exact way that she told the story that day, what we’re left with is Dolly’s recollection of what she heard as a young child. Joseph’s is a long story (14 whole chapters!), but Dolly came away with one message: "Perhaps this coat will bring you good luck and happiness.” A beautiful lesson for a young child. And when delivered with a mother’s hug and kiss? Just the thing Dolly needed as she headed off to school. 

Of course, you can read the story of Joseph this way and that and come away with an infinite number of other interpretations. That’s the beauty of the story. And the power of the telling is a chance to present one option for consideration. Sharing your interpretation with someone else as a precious gift and seeing how it is received. 

Any story that takes up 14 chapters in the book of Genesis is going to be messy. And Joseph’s is messier than most. Avie Lee focused on Joseph’s coat of many colors as a gift from his father that brought him luck. And while he certainly lived a charmed life in some ways, it was not all roses and glitter. Joseph’s father gave him the coat as a way of setting him apart from his other sons - playing favorites. While Joseph preened like a beautiful peacock in his coat, his brothers’ resentment grew. Eventually, they threw him into a pit and sold him into slavery because they hated him so much. Was Joseph lucky? In some ways, yes. In other ways, not so much. 

Joseph was special. Set apart. Brilliant interpreter of dreams. 

Joseph was also obnoxious. Didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. 

Joseph was helpful. Sharing his knowledge with anyone who would listen. 

Joseph was also self-interested. Using his unique skills to get ahead. 

Joseph was manipulative. Lying and deceiving to make things go his way. 

Joseph was also deeply traumatized. Doing his best to survive in scary situations that none of us would wish on our enemies. 

Depending on how the story’s been shared with you, you may love Joseph or hate him. Heck, you may feel one way about him today and another way tomorrow. That’s okay. That’s the power of the telling and re-telling, the hearing and re-hearing. That’s what keeps these sacred stories alive. 

I confess that I’ve always been a Joseph fan. Maybe it’s just because I grew up on the musical version of Joseph, he of the Technicolor Dreamcoat, and what’s not to love about that outrageous, campy version of the story? 

I’ve always felt a little sorry for Joseph. It’s not his fault he was favored. It’s not his fault he was given the ability to interpret dreams. And, sure, he’s annoying in a little brother kind of way, but did he really deserve to be thrown in a pit and sold into slavery? I think not!

But this week, reading Joseph’s story alongside Dolly’s death, I couldn’t help but compare the two coat-wearers. Dolly was the 4th child of 12. Joseph was the second to youngest in a family of 13. They both had outsized personalities and big dreams from a young age. Joseph was hated by his own family and estranged from them. Dolly was incredibly close to hers - married to her husband for almost 60 years and tightly connected to the entire clan. 

Joseph was known for his ability to interpret dreams. And Dolly was known for something Joseph never quite mastered: humility in the face of living out her dreams. I believe her humility was one of the gravitational pulls that Dolly had. And one of the reasons so many looked up to her as an example of what it truly means to live like Jesus. 

Dolly’s was not a false, “aw shucks” kind of humility. She knew she was talented and whip-smart and hilarious. She knew that she sparkled like rhinestones. But she never would have told others she had a dream they would all bow down to her. Dolly understood that she was special and everyone else is, too. She spent her life trying to do for others what Avie Lee did for her as a child: show them they could always be rich in the things that truly matter. And continually remind every person she encountered that they were worthy of unconditional love. 

There’s a beautiful story about Dolly interacting with the child actor who portrayed her in the Coat of Many Colors movie. Alyvia Lind was only eight-years-old when she was tapped to portray young Dolly. She reflected on meeting with Dolly to get advice on how to play the role. Lind said, “She told me just to be myself, and just to play the role just how my heart thinks I should play the role, and she says that 'the best you can do is the best it will be.” [2] 

She told that little girl to just be herself. And that that would be the very best thing. Isn’t that beautiful? You can almost hear the voice of Dolly’s own mother, Avie Lee, speaking directly to that young actor, saying, “Sweetheart, you know what you need to know. You are already enough.” 

Dolly’s humility - her sense of her place in the world - allowed her to see others clearly as beloved children of God. She had a way of making kindness and unconditional respect seem natural and easy. 

Dolly was a strong supporter of LGBTQ+ rights since at least the 1980s, putting her money where her mouth was, donating generously to help those most affected by the AIDS crisis. In 2011, she was horrified to learn that an employee at Dollywood made a park guest turn their “marriage is so gay” t-shirt inside out. She apologized to the guest personally and publicly saying, "Everyone knows of my personal support of the gay and lesbian community. Dollywood is a family park and all families are welcome." 

And, of course, there’s her famous quip from 2009 - six whole years before marriage equality.  "Sure, why can't they get married? They should suffer like the rest of us do!" [3] 

Dolly defended those that the world bullied with her ever-present sense of humor and sparkle. When she spoke about how to treat people you walked away wondering how anyone could possibly think any different. It’s just common sense. Duh. 

I imagine her as a little girl, standing up to those bullies at school with her hand on one hip and an incredulous tone to her voice. “How can y’all be so confused about this coat? It is beautiful! My mama made it with love! And, listen, don’t you know the story about Joseph and his beautiful coat? Let me tell you all about it…” 

She said in the song that the other kids walked away confused and didn’t quite understand. But I can’t help but wonder if she planted a seed. That’s what stories do, of course. And she was a gifted storyteller. She felt the power of stories at a young age and she spent her life telling stories to others. You could say her greatest legacy may be the 300 million books she gave away to children - giving the literal gift of stories to children the way Avie Lee did for her. Did you  know that roughly one in seven children in the U.S. under the age of give receive a book from Dolly every single month? For free? What an incredible gift to share. The gift of stories. 

Stories have the power to shape a life. Change the world. Dolly knew this. And we in the Church know this, too. 

Which stories do we listen to? Which stories are we telling and re-telling to the young people in our lives? What stories are we writing with our actions each and every day? And who might need the gift of a story of hope and inspiration at this moment in time? 

God, we give you thanks for all the stories and storytellers. May those who have ears to hear, listen. 

NOTES

[1] https://genius.com/Dolly-parton-coat-of-many-colors-lyrics
[2] https://www.knoxnews.com/story/entertainment/2016/06/02/child-actress-alyvia-alyn-lind-talks-coat-sequel-playing-dolly-parton/91004870/ 

[3] https://www.facebook.com/share/p/194RNKyure/ 

“Afraid and Brave”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Matthew 14:22-33

August 23, 2026

Last week we explored the Apostle Paul’s beautiful words in the 12th chapter of Romans about all of us being many parts in the body of Christ. And how we all belong to one another. I talked about the powerful experiences we can have in worship when we are gathered with people from many cultures. We may speak different languages and come from different places, but when we sing common hymns or hear ancient stories from shared scripture, we have a sense that the divisions between us are just man-made and silly. 

This sense of unity is a powerful antidote to the heretical voices of White Christian Nationalism, who are primarily concerned with building more barriers between us and shoring up the ones that already exist. Christian Nationalism, whether here in the U.S. or abroad, is antithetical to the truth of the Gospel: which is that we are all one body and we all belong to each other. The Way of Christ is never about creating more divisions, it’s always about integration - creating more wholeness. 

Christian Nationalism - actually, wait. I don’t think that’s quite accurate and I think words are important. Because this dangerous ideology is not rooted in the teachings of Jesus. So why pretend it is? Perhaps it would be better to call it something like “Nationalism Masquerading as Christianity.” That’s a mouthful, though. So let’s go with Pseudo-Christian Nationalism instead. 

Pseudo-Christian Nationalism misses the entire point of Jesus in several ways. Obviously, it creates division and stokes violence, neither of which are of Christ. But today I want to talk about another way that Pseudo-Christian Nationalism makes a mockery of the Way of Jesus: it creates, feeds on, and amplifies fear. 

It’s no secret that we live in a time that is rife with fears - big and small. On a daily basis, I see headlines about the epidemic of anxiety that stalks people of every age, race, nationality, and creed. We could probably go on all day with a list of things people are afraid of but since this is a sermon about conquering fear, let’s keep it short. Hit me with just a few things people are afraid of these days: ___________

Whew. Okay. Yep. That’s a lot. 

Luckily for us, the Way of Jesus is laser-focused on facing our fears - and moving through them in community. To put it more succinctly, the Way of Jesus is about learning to live brave. This theme of bravery is woven throughout the stories of Jesus’s life, death and resurrection. Mary was afraid when the angel came to her and told her she would give birth to the Messiah. She bravely said yes. Jesus' disciples were certainly afraid as they followed him from town to town, knowing they were putting themselves at risk. They didn’t always act with bravery, sometimes allowing their fears to get the best of them, but they kept trying. Jesus himself was afraid when he realized his arrest and execution was imminent. He prayed to God for a different ending. And then he found the bravery to face the scariest thing imaginable with courage and grace. And the stories of what happened after Jesus’ death were filled with fear and bravery - the women going to the tomb while it was still dark, the disciples lost and afraid in the upper room. But we know bravery must have won out over fear because they did not stay silent. The stories were passed down to us. 

Today’s story from the Gospel of Matthew is, at its heart, a story about being brave. Which, it’s important to note, is not the same as being unafraid. In fact, you have to be afraid to be brave. Otherwise, it’s not bravery at all, right? Bravery is about moving forward with intention even though you’re afraid. 

And the disciples were almost certainly afraid out on that boat. And exhausted. Just the day before, they had received the horrific news that King Herod had murdered Jesus’s cousin, John the Baptist. A brutal and horrific execution. And a reminder of just how at risk they were, themselves. But before they even had a chance to process their grief and fear, they were thrown into the whirlwind of caring for needy people once again. Jesus had tried to escape the crowds to find a moment’s peace, but they followed him and the disciples were there to witness the whole thing as Jesus cured the sick despite his own grief. As the day came to a close, Jesus’ friends begged him to send the crowds away, but he insisted that they do the impossible - feeding a crowd of over 5,000 people with nothing but five loaves of bread and two fish. 

Exhausted, grieving, and fearful, the disciples clamored into the refuge of their small fishing boat, relieved to lose the crowds (and perhaps Jesus, too, let’s be honest) at sea. And Jesus retreated to the mountain to pray. But far from finding peace that night, they found more trouble. A big storm kicked up at sea and the disciples were tossed this way and that on the water. By daybreak, they were spent. Jesus walks out to the boat on the water, seeking to offer comfort, but instead makes them more afraid because they think he’s a ghost. 

Somewhat oddly, Peter reacts with a challenge. “Lord, if it’s you, command me to come out onto the water.” It’s not clear why Peter feels the need to be brave, but that’s what he seems to be seeking. A chance to do something hard - a chance to step out in faith despite his fear. 

Jesus meets Peter where he is, staying with him every step of the way - even when Peter’s fear almost overcomes his desire for bravery. In the end, both men end up back in the boat. And something about this odd display of bravery in the midst of fear and exhaustion inspires the other disciples. They fall down on their knees before Jesus saying, “Truly, you are the son of God.”

Fear is such a basic human emotion. Not one of us is immune from it, you know. We are born with the innate capacity for fear and, if we’re lucky, we fine tune it throughout our lives, using it as a tool. If we’re not so lucky, we end up stuck in anxiety loops that are less-than-helpful or even debilitating. But none of us escapes the basic human emotion of fear. 

Fear and anxiety are two sides of the same coin, but they aren’t quite the same thing. Fear is a primal physiological response to a stimulus. You see a lion, your pulse races, your breath quickens, your stomach drops - and your body responds to the stimulus: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. You don’t even have a chance to think about it: your body knows what to do to keep you safe. 

Anxiety is more diffuse. It’s future-oriented and dwells in the realm of possibilities. The lion is not standing right there in front of you….but he might be lurking around the corner in the dark. Your imagination creates “what if” scenarios that lead to many of the same physiological sensations as fear. And if we replay these anxieties enough times, they become ingrained. They become automatic. And we find ourselves stuck in anxiety loops where we feel all the sensations of anxiety but we’re not even sure where they’re coming from. Or we trap ourselves in rumination, constantly play the “what if” game and creating plans A, B, C, D, and E. 

Interestingly enough, many people who live with chronic anxiety are some of the bravest people you’ll ever meet. Those who have found a way to live their lives in spite of the never-ending anxiety loop have a lot to teach us about how to live brave. Because, despite their fears, they’re showing up in the world every day scared to death.

Neither fear nor anxiety are, in and of themselves, inherently good or bad. Both can be useful. If you ever run into a lion in real life, you’ll be awfully grateful for your body’s fear response. It’s what will keep you safe! And even anxiety can be helpful - imagining what could happen if you stick your hand in the lion’s enclosure at the zoo is what keeps you from doing it! 

Psychologist Padraic Gibson, explains how anxiety can be useful:

Anxiety can be a source of strength and can, for example, lead to better job performance. Worriers are more likely to be more goal oriented, more organized, and self-disciplined. They plan effectively for unforeseen events and consequences that others may ignore. They are better at taking care of their health. In short, anxiety is productive when it is not excessive. [1]

And fears can essentially be broken down into useful and not-useful categories. “Appropriate fears” are the ones that keep you safe. Like heading the other direction if you run into a lion in a dark alley. “Neurotic fears” are the ones that engage the body’s fight/flight/freeze/fawn response…even though they don’t need to. So, for example, if you go to a high school whose mascot is a lion and even the statue of the lion outside the school makes your body freeze up and you can’t walk into the school? That’s a neurotic fear. The lion statue can’t hurt you but your body is confused and thinks it can. [2]

Appropriate fears are useful. Neurotic fears are not.

Appropriate fears help us stay safe. Neurotic fears can make us feel trapped. 

Anxiety of fear - Appropriate or neurotic - Helpful or unhelpful - the beauty of our faith is that it can help us find bravery in the midst of it all. By the time Jesus came to the disciples that morning on the lake, the storm had already passed. There was no active threat. If they were afraid, it had moved into the neurotic territory because the risk to them was in the past. And Jesus came to them in the midst of that kind of fear and provided comfort. 

Peter’s fear was different. When he was out there walking on the water, his fear was wholly appropriate. Storm or no, a person could die if they sink into the sea. So there’s no ridiculing Peter’s fear when the wind kicked back up. He was in a vulnerable place. The lion was real. And Jesus met him in the midst of that kind of fear and helped him be brave. 

If Jesus was able to rise early in the morning and walk on water to the fearful disciples to help them find their bravery, then surely he can meet us in the midst of our fears, too. And help us to be brave. 

Let us pray:

God, thank you for sending Jesus to show us the way to bravery when we are afraid. And thank you for these ancient stories of faith that help us remember it’s okay to cry out to Jesus when we’re bogged down in fear and anxiety. Help us to be brave even in the midst of our fears. Help us to bravely stand up for love in a world that too-often seems fixated on hate. Help us to watch out for each other when we are trapped in our worry and fear. In those moments, may we, like Jesus, show up and offer words of comfort and hope - encouraging others to seek the path of bravery, the path of love, the path of joy - even in the midst of fear. Amen. 

NOTES:

[1] https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/escaping-our-mental-traps/202301/whats-the-difference-between-anxiety-and-fear 

[2] With gratitude to David Richo for the concepts of appropriate and neurotic fears. From his book How to be an Adult: A Handbook for Psychological and Spiritual Integration. 

“Many Parts in One Body”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Romans 12:1-8

August 16, 2026

The Apostle Pauls’s voice echoes through the centuries as he writes to the church in Rome: “We have many parts in one body, but the parts don’t all have the same function. In the same way, though there are many of us, we are one body in Christ, and individually we belong to each other.”

It’s pretty easy to see how we belong to one another and function as one body in Christ when you participate in the life of a local congregation: with joy, we watch our children grow up; with sorrow, we say goodbye to members of our congregation when they move away or reach the end of their earthly lives. We work side by side - feeding the hungry and advocating for justice. We learn and deepen our faith together - asking hard questions and sharing openly when God seems far away. There is a powerful sense of unity when we sit together in silence, or listen to beautiful music, or raise our voices in song, or pray in unison. We are one body in Christ - and we belong to each other. 

Of course, this unity in Christ extends far beyond these walls. I’ve often heard from people in our congregation, when they get involved with something in the wider United Church of Christ, that they have this same sense of belonging…just bigger. If you travel to the Kansas-Oklahoma Conference annual meeting or serve on a conference board or participate in an ordination, you get a sense that our Church (with a capital “c”) is much larger than just our congregation. 

And when we gather in ecumenical and interfaith spaces, we find a similar sense of belonging to one another. We join with people from varied faith backgrounds in Topeka with Kansas Interfaith Action - we worship and learn alongside our UU, Mennonite, Disciples of Christ, Jewish friends. Though our practices and vocabulary may be different, we are many parts in one body of Love. And we each have our roles to play. 

This summer I had the immense privilege of feeling that unity extended once again, as I traveled with our conference’s clergy delegation to southwestern Germany. I promised a few weeks ago that I’d have a few more stories to tell you about this trip, so today you get more photos and reflections!

For those who are new: this was a two-week trip to visit our partner church, the Protestant Church of Baden (called EKIBA, which is an acronym for their name in German). Our formal partnership has been in place for over two decades now and is one of many regional partnerships between our denomination and Germany. Over the past two decades, we’ve sent individuals and delegations back and forth. Our congregation has hosted at least three Germans in my time here:the Rev. Andrea S. visited us in 2022 while on sabbatical; Hannah R., who is studying to teach religion in the public schools, stayed with us for 5 weeks in 2025; and Bishop Heike Springhart and her colleague Dr. Jens Adam, came through earlier this year. 

Our delegation this summer has the unique opportunity to travel, not as tourists, but as a part of a community. We were greeted warmly by colleagues and friends that we’ve hosted here in Kansas-Oklahoma over the years. And, of course, there were also opportunities to meet people we’ve shared so many emails and Zooms with that we felt like we already knew them. So there were all these warm and wonderful reunions. 

And…there were so many new colleagues to meet. And not just from Germany, but all over the world! A significant part of our trip was spent at the annual EKIBA gathering for those interested in global and ecumenical connections. There were people there from Argentina, South Korea, Rwanda, India, Australia, and more. Many of the international participants were young adults who were spending a year in Germany as a part of their nationwide volunteer service program. Young adults are given a modest stipend and assigned to positions in hospitals, schools, and retirement homes. Many of the international participants hoped to work on their German skills and then continue university or graduate work in Germany. The presence of guests from all over the world added a richness to our conversations, which were centered on the church’s role in resisting authoritarianism. We all have so much to learn from one another. 

Some of the most profound moments of sharing didn’t happen in meetings or conversations - but in worship. Singing songs from Taize together, learning hymns in Korean and Hungarian, hearing familiar Bible stories preached and interpreted in German - it was all a reminder that we may come from different cultures but we share a global culture of Christianity across borders and across the centuries. We share the same foundational stories, we speak the same theological language. For me, at least, this identity as a follower of Jesus is much more important than my identity as an American or even Kansan. Sharing in worship together helped me experience this with my heart, not just my head. 

While it might not seem like having these warm feelings while singing songs is a huge deal, I came away from this experience realizing just how important these kinds of experiences are in this current moment in history. We are, unfortunately, living in a time when a dangerous blend of nationalism and authoritarianism are on the rise throughout the globe. Sadly, in our country, this sea change includes the rise of White Christian Nationalism which is, let’s just be clear, blasphemy. 

The Gospel of Jesus Christ isn’t for any one nation or culture or race or ethnic or political group. The Gospel of Jesus Christ binds us together across the borders that have been created by humans. Any one who attempts to use Christ’s teachings to claim that your country is somehow better than another - or to make you scared of someone who doesn’t look like you - has completely missed the point of what Jesus came to teach. Full stop. 

The Apostle Paul understood this. “We are one body in Christ,” he says, “and individually we belong to each other.” He’s not just speaking of the people in these pews. Or the people in our denomination. Or the people who look and think and dress and talk like us. I would argue he’s not even just talking about people who go to church or call themselves Christians. I believe that we are all - the whole entire world - one body in Christ - whether we know it or not, whether we like it or not - and we all belong to each other. 

Paul also knew how tempting it is for people of faith to allow our values to be formed by politicians, talking heads on the news, and content creators - rather than by the teachings of Jesus. In this same letter, Paul cautions the early Church, “Don’t be conformed to the patterns of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds so that you can figure out what God’s will is—what is good and pleasing and mature.” 

One of the things that struck me during my time in Germany was how this desire to be “transformed by the renewing of our minds” is a common thread in their Church and ours. Meeting together for worship, Bible study, book studies, conversations about current events - these are all ways that we grow as people of faith and help ourselves resist the temptation to “be conformed to the patterns of the world.” 

Christians are united in this desire not only across oceans but across the centuries. I want to close with one last short story from my trip that highlights the ways Christians around the world have been seeking to “renew our minds” for centuries. 

This is the Church of the Holy Spirit in Heidelberg. We were fortunate to have a behind-the-scenes tour with one of the pastors, so we learned a lot about the fascinating history of this congregation. It was established in the 13th century, and has changed denominations from Catholic to Calvinist to Lutheran at least ten times. For a few hundred years it even had a wall dividing the church in half - Catholics in the front, Protestants in the back! And, in case you were wondering, yes, this is the birthplace of the Heidelberg Catechism.

But what I really want to show you about this church building is tucked away on the third floor. While this currently looks like an unused, dusty gallery, once upon a time it housed one of the most important libraries in Europe. The Bibliotheca Palatina contained over 8,000 books and manuscripts. At a time when public libraries didn’t exist and you certainly couldn’t “just Google it,” the Church played a critical role in gathering and stewarding human knowledge. Sadly, during the Thirty Years War In the 16th century, the entire library was stolen and the contents were taken to Rome, where most of them still live at the Vatican. Some have since been returned to Heidelberg and are at the University. The Church is currently working to create a museum in the space that will tell the story of the library and display some of the books and codices. 

Standing in this old, old space in the year 2026, when we’re dealing with the almost-totally-unrestricted rise of AI and hearing about books being fed to AI corporations, it made me feel a sense of solidarity with these Christians who lived centuries ago and also understood the importance of knowledge. The written word back then may have been on vellum scrolls rather than pixelated on tiny screens, but these Christians also understood how important words are for those of us who seek to be “transformed by the renewing of our minds.” 

They, like us, understood that knowledge is often the key to greater freedom. And that when knowledge is stolen and locked away - or owned by corporations - we are all a little less free. It made me wonder about the role of the church in today’s information and data wars. And what more we are called to do as followers of Christ in the time we live in. 

The ways that we humans learn and share what we know with one another have changed so much over the centuries. But the God-given desire to transform ourselves by the renewing of our minds is something we will always have with us. Even in an age when we are being tempted by billionaires to outsource our humanity to water-guzzling data centers. May we, like our faith ancestors who studied the written word these alcoves, never stop learning. May we never stop renewing our minds so we can figure out God’s will. And may we always encourage others to join us in this sacred task. 

“Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Part 1”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Song of Songs 2:8-13

June 21, 2026

We are officially in the thick of the summer holiday season. Have you ever noticed how many holidays are packed into such a short period of time here in the U.S.? Mothers’ Day, Memorial Day, Flag Day, Fathers’ Day, Juneteenth, Independence Day….did I miss any? That’s a lot of holidays for a two month period! Sometimes it feels like it’s hard to settle into any kind of routine during this time of year. The whole town feels different with many of our college students gone. Younger students are out of school and working summer jobs or splashing in the pool in their bright Little Apple Day Camp t-shrits. People of all ages are heading off to visit family in far-flung places or going on road trips, cruises, adventures. 

By the time we get to Labor Day in a few months, we’ll be ready to settle back into a groove. But, for now, many of us are decidedly out of our regular routines. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. 

After all, the Bible is full of stories about stepping off the beaten path, exploring, learning, growing. There is very little in our Bible that encourages us to just wiggle ourselves down into a well-worn groove in the record, staying put forever. Even the rhythm of time God establishes in the first chapter of Genesis has a built in break from our regular routines. 

If you think about a vinyl record, Sabbath is a bit like the ungrooved surface between each track. The record needle settles down into the groove and brings music to our ears. When the engraving goes away, the sound ends, and we’re left with a space between songs. The record is still turning, the needle is still doing its thing, but the break in the music causes us to sit up and take notice. Something is about to change. 

This break in the audio action makes an album more engaging. The brief pause gives us a moment to shift our attention, prepare for what’s next, listen with fresh ears. Holidays and sabbath do the same, don’t they? A small shift in the routine keeps things fresh, helps us move through our lives with greater intention, causes us to notice things we might have missed otherwise. 

There is a line in today’s reading from the Song of Songs that makes for an excellent “break between tracks” mantra to hold onto: “Arise, my love, and come away.” 

It is an invitation as lovely as anything else in scripture. “Arise, my love, and come away.” Pause, lift yourself up and out of that groove, turn towards new possibilities. Try something new. Shift your routine just slightly. Move with intention, rather than just riding those well-worn grooves of your life without a thought. 

In the context of the Song of Songs, these words are spoken from one romantic partner to another. And since the Church has historically been so antsy about discussing bodies, romantic love, and sex it turns out the Song of Songs doesn’t come up very often in our lectionaries. The Revised Common Lectionary only schedules this beautiful book twice and the newer Narrative Lectionary somehow managed to avoid it entirely. 

Which is really too bad because Christianity has been used in so many harmful ways to instill shame around human sexuality. If we had all grown up hearing the poetic words from this book more often, we might have been better-prepared to combat unhelpful ideas like abstinence-only sex education. 

What we have in the Song of Songs, instead, is an entire book of beautiful poetry devoted to the joys and delights of two people who are not shy about explicitly detailing their love for each other. They are not afraid to talk about their bodies or the joys that can be found in honoring and inhabiting our bodies fully. 

The whole book is a dialogue between two young lovers. God is not mentioned, which has sometimes puzzled theologians. Because of this, there is a long history in the Church of allegorizing the Song - saying it’s about God’s love for us, rather than about two young people’s intense romantic love for one another. While I don’t think it’s appropriate to pretend-away-the-sexuality in this book, I do think we can use that face-value-romantic love as a jumping off point for exploring all kinds of love that humans share...romantic love, love between friends and families, our love for our pets, nature, art, place. Our love -  in all its varied forms - often grows out of a connection to God….just as our connection to God grows when we experience love - all kinds of love, not just romantic - here on earth. 

In the passage we read today, the young lovers urge one another to pause, make space for joy, beauty, pleasure, love in their daily lives. They invite their beloved to come away to a place where they can enjoy each other and rest fully in the wondrous gift of love. 

Now this - this! - is something so many of us need to hear. This invitation to come away to a holy place to make space for giving and receiving love. Not just romantic love, but love of all kinds. 

When I think about all kinds of love, I often reflect that some of the purest love I’ve been gifted with in my life has come from animals. Sometimes when I’m busy or distracted or in a rush or stressed out, my dog Sweetpea comes to me and bonks me. She wants to play with her favorite rope toy. Or she just wants a few scratches and a cuddle. “Arise, and come away!” her eyes say to me.  I can try to put her off for a while, but she usually wins. And when I do finally “arise and come away,” I receive the good gifts of love. I feel tension seep away when I put my hand on her belly and feel her breathing. And I laugh like a kid while we play tug-the-rope. 

“Arise, and come away,” she says. Take a moment to just be. Take a moment to love. Take a moment to remember you are loved. And the invitation is good. Because when we accept the invitation to bask in love - in all its many forms - we remember that holiness is all around us. 

So often we fool ourselves into thinking holiness is reserved for “sacred spaces” like church sanctuaries or deathbeds or the Grand Canyon. Those places can be holy, certainly. But holiness can be found in many other places, too...an everyday moment, a little ritual. Can you think of a time this past week that felt holy to you? We’ll pause for just a moment to give you space to ponder that silently. 

(pause)

“Arise, and come away,” Love beckons. “Get out of the groove you’ve settled down into. Come and see the beauty, the joy, the holiness in digging in the dirt, Facetime with a grandchild, chopping vegetables for dinner, turning towards someone you love and connecting through touch.” 

The word holy seems to have its origins in wholeness and health. When we accept Christ’s invitation to seek holiness each day, we are really accepting an invitation to move towards wholeness and health. And not just for ourselves as individuals! Just think about what our community would be like if every single day we listened to that invitation to “Arise, and come away.” If we each allowed ourselves to seek even 3 or 4 moments of connection with Love, beauty, joy, vulnerability the way these young lovers do in the Song of Songs. Imagine how our hearts would grow. Imagine how the gift of God’s love would overflow out of each of us to the world around us, creating more wholeness and health for all creation. 

The invitation is there, my friends. “Arise, and come away.” Walk into the open arms of Love and be willing to receive the good gifts of the Spirit. There’s no expectation that we do it perfectly. Even if we just open ourselves to receiving God’s love in a holy moment ONCE each day - just one time! - we will discover that we yearn for more and more of it. 

You’ve heard it said that “practice makes perfect” and this is rarely true. But “practice makes progress,” and the more we open ourselves to holy love, wholeness, and health - the more naturally it will overflow into the world around us, creating a chain-reaction of healing in a world that desperately needs it. 

It doesn’t have to be anything big. It can be something small, like this:

A spiritual teacher of mine told me that when she was a little girl, her mom ironed shirts for 8 kids every day. “Arise, my love, and come away,” those shirts said to her each day...and while I doubt that she experienced that chore as a time of delight and joy, nevertheless, she found a way to seek holiness in that mundane task. Each day as she ironed, she prayed for each of her 8 children by name. She pressed God’s love into each shirt as she prepared it for each one of her beloveds. 

And she was often frustrated that she was rushing, running behind, hurrying to complete the task. And so her children would breeze through, waiting for each shirt to come off the board before school. And when they put them on, they were still warm. Still warm with love. Still warm with care. And I can see those kids putting those shirts on, day after day, wrapping their mother’s prayers around them like a fierce cloak of love. Their mother’s love, which flowed from God’s love - a gift given freely for the taking. 

“Arise, my love, and come away.” And off they went into the world, wrapped up in love, sent out from holiness to holiness to do love and be loved as beloved children of God. 

“Arise, my love, and come away.” 

The invitation still calls.