Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

Rev. Jennifer Masada - St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church - Kapa’au, Hawai'i
August 17, 2025 - Tenth  Sunday after Pentecost, Year C
Let’s turn back to the beginning of our worship booklets to today’s opening prayer. Can we read this together?
God of restless fire and urgent river’s flow: unsettle the false peace which hides our divisions; unfold our hearts to sense your presence; unloose your kingdom and make us one in Jesus Christ, the first of many brothers and sisters. Amen.

The writer of this prayer has a wonderful, poetic way of addressing God. “God of restless fire and urgent river’s flow,” he says. For me, there is no more powerful experience of God than witnessing the power of creation!

It's been dry in North Kohala. When we hear the word “fire,” our first thought might be destruction — houses burned, land scorched, and danger to life. Maui is in our hearts, too, as people there continue the long journey of recovery and healing from the fires two years ago. 

That's why emotions run high when we hear stories that mention fire. The idea of fire brings up fear, even knowing that in the language of scripture fire is often a sign of God’s presence. Think of Moses before the burning bush, the pillar of fire leading Israel through the wilderness, the tongues of flame resting on the disciples at Pentecost.

In this week's gospel story, Jesus says, “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”

The fire Jesus speaks of is a refining fire — the fire of transformation. This Spirit-fire burns away what is false, stagnant, or harmful so that what is true can shine. Like the flowing water we’ve been talking about these past week, fire awakens what has gone dormant in us. It clears the ground for something new to grow.

We know what it means when lava flows from deep within the earth. Yes, it fascinates and frightens us. It is fierce — powerful enough to consume all in its path — yet over the long arc of time, it creates new land and rich soil where life can take root and flourish. The fire of Christ is like that: both unsettling and life-giving. It transforms the terrain of our hearts and communities.

In today’s story, Jesus is impatient for that transformation. “When are these people going to get on with it?” He says, “What stress I am under until this transformation is completed!”

See? Even Jesus is stressed out! Transformation in sermons often sounds beautiful — fire, new life, Spirit moving — but the actual human feeling of change is often very mixed. So I asked myself this week: what does change actually feel like? In my younger days, I used to think I was ready for any change, any transformation. 
Now I recognize that change rarely feels smooth. It can be unsettling, like standing on shifting ground. It can feel costly, as we let go of habits or attachments we thought defined us. At times it feels raw and tender, like new skin after a wound. At other times liberating, like a burden finally lifted. Sometimes it feels uncertain, like stepping into fog — and then alive, awake with a new sense of vitality and possibility.

The trouble with uncertainty is that we spend so much time imagining that we can predict and control everything about our future.

Jesus says, “You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?” We know how to read the weather. We can see when rain is coming, or when the winds shift. But can we recognize the signs of Spirit moving among us?

The “present time” is not just the ticking of a clock. It is the sacred now — the decisive moment when Spirit is stirring and inviting us to respond. If we were to read the signs of our own time, what would we see? 

We see fires of change burning in our world — movements for justice, voices calling for healing, truth-tellers refusing to be silenced. We see communities finding new ways to care for one another. We also see division and fear.

Will we step into this moment with Spirit’s fire kindled in us? Will we allow the flame of Divine love to refine our hearts, burn away complacency, and awaken courage?

Maybe during times of change is when we most need the fire of Spirit. Maybe the fire we need in our lives right now is the fire of clarity — to see where Spirit might be calling us. Maybe we need the fire of compassion — to warm hearts that have grown cold. Perhaps we seek the fire of courage — to speak truth to power or to enter a difficult conversation of reconciliation. 
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For weariness, perhaps we need the fire of grace. When feeling unsettled, the fire of intention. When clinging to what once was, the fire of surrender. For uncertainty, the fire of focus. For fear, the fire of freedom. For vulnerability, the fire of vitality.
Whatever it is, the Spirit’s flame is ready. The present time — this moment — is sacred. It is a moment of decision, alignment, and courage. This is our moment to let Christ's fire set our hearts ablaze — not to destroy, but to awaken. 

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