Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

Rev. Jennifer Masada - St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church - Kapa’au, Hawai'i
August 10, 2025 - Ninth  Sunday after Pentecost, Year C
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Opening Prayer - O Holy One, you are the flame that never burns out, the light that guides our steps. Open our hearts to receive your grace, our minds to welcome your truth, and our spirits to move with your flow. Amen.

“Be ready. Keep your lamps lit.” Jesus’ words in today’s gospel carry both urgency and promise. Change is coming. Opportunity is coming. The movement of God’s Spirit is always drawing near, and inviting us to join the flow of God’s love. 

Outside of that flow, we risk losing connection with our Divine compass. We risk losing our way. Out of the flow, we risk standing still, settling into complacency or stale routines. Imagine a pond of water. As you look, you see it is a stagnant pond, with murky water brown and green with slime. A healthy stream moves fresh and clear. And so it is with our spirits! When we flow, life is fresh and alive, and we are ready for whatever comes next.

Be ready, Jesus says. How do we get ready?

Isaiah and the psalmist warn us that honoring God with empty gestures is not enough. Beautiful rituals without the living heartbeat of justice, worship without the inward turning of our hearts—these are not enough. The outer shell of faith alone does not help us get ready; God longs for the fullness of our being—our choices, our compassion, our trust.

Paul’s letter to the Hebrews offers another view of readiness: “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” 

The writer reminds us of our ancestors who lived by faith—trusting in God’s promises without knowing exactly when or how those promises would be fulfilled. They moved forward without a timeline, living into a hope they might never see fully realized.

We echo this trust in our Eucharistic Prayer when we proclaim the mystery of faith: “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.” Christ will come again. We say this every week. We claim it as truth, and yet we also admit we don’t know when or how that coming will happen.

So what are we really preparing for? Yes, there’s the traditional hope of Christ’s second coming. When we say, “Christ will come again,” sometimes the words pass through our lips without much thought. Other times, we pause, wondering what they really mean. People have spent centuries wondering what the second coming might look like. But what if that coming isn’t a distant cosmic event?

What if Christ comes again--through us? Jesus says, “I am in you, and you in me.” Every moment we open ourselves to God’s love, every time we act with compassion, every choice we make in alignment with the Spirit’s flow, Christ comes into the world anew.

And this is where the inner work matters. It’s what empties us of the clutter, the resentment, the fear—so there’s room for the lamp’s light to shine in us, through us.
Our readiness is tested not only in quiet, personal moments, but in the shared life of our communities. We live in a world quick to judge—quick to divide people into “us” and “them.” Fear, irritation, and impatience — these are part of being human. They rise up in all of us from time to time. 

These feelings are not, in themselves, wrong. They are signals — reminders that something within us is tender, unsettled, in need of God’s healing presence.
The danger comes when we let those emotions harden into judgment, resentment, or contempt. When we begin to see another person as less than a child of God, the light of our lamp dims. That’s when we’ve stepped away from the flow of the Spirit and into patterns that can wound, exclude, or even destroy.

I cherish the opportunity to learn about traditional Hawaiian culture, which offers a powerful contrast to this way of living. The value of aloha teaches us that love is not just a feeling but an active choice to treat others with kindness, humility, and respect, even in moments of conflict. There is also the practice of ho‘oponopono—restoring right relationships through honest conversation, confession, forgiveness, and prayer. 

Such practices can clear us so we can flow again, like living water that’s fresh, life-giving, and connected to the vastness of sacred creation. The awe of creation’s power resets our hearts, making us ready to give and receive. These practices remind us that when hurt or disagreement arise, the response is not to push someone away, but to clear the channels between us so that the flow of life and Spirit can move freely again.

Keeping our lamp lit means noticing those moments as they arise—before they calcify into something harmful—and allowing the Spirit to soften our hearts again. It means choosing the way of love even when fear or frustration feels louder.
For me, this often happens in small, ordinary moments—especially the ones that test my patience. 

Sometimes I find myself stuck in irritation or frustration. And then, in the middle of that emotion, a little pause opens. A choice presents itself: keep feeding the irritation… or let it go.

When I choose release, it feels like something melting away, like a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding. There’s a calm stillness. I believe that’s grace—the Spirit breaking through. And in that moment, God’s love flows freely again! 

Being ready, keeping the lamp lit, isn’t about watching the horizon for some far-off arrival. It’s about being awake to the God-moments that can come in the blink of an eye. It’s about choosing—again and again—to open the heart, to make space for grace, to move with the current of Divine love. If more people do this, perhaps that’s how the world changes!

And so the question is: When the moment comes—whether it’s a challenge that calls for mercy, an opportunity to speak truth, or a quiet chance to release a small irritation—will the lamp be ready? Will the flame be steady?

Because Christ’s coming—through us—may be as near as the next breath.
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E pule kākou, let us pray.
Come, Spirit of the Living God, and keep our lamps burning bright. Keep the stream of your love flowing through us. Make us ready for your arrival in the smallest choices and the grandest visions. Help us prepare, not with fear, but with faith—so that your light may shine through us into the world. Amen.

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