Tuesday, September 8, 2026

Point Out the Fault While the Two of You are Alone

 Matthew 18:15-20

September 6, 2026

 

Where Two Or Three are Gathered
Theresa Duaghtry

A pastor from Texas told me this story.

He had just started a new call at a church in a small town.

Soon after he started, he was in a grocery store.

One of the members of his church saw him from down the aisle.

He was right behind him, he said “hello, Pastor”

a couple of times. He had to have heard him.

The pastor ignores him.

He acts like he didn’t see him and scoots quickly down the aisle.

The member is offended.

 

The member tells his wife: the new pastor ignored me.

He saw me and avoided me. Maybe he’s mad at me.

She tells her friend who is on the council.

Do you know how much money we give to this church?

The council talks. We have seen signs. The new pastor is not friendly.

Other church members are told.

Maybe we made a mistake in calling him.

There’s phone calls and quiet discussions.

Yes, we noticed it too. City people. He thinks he’s better than us.

 

Sunday, people seem cold to him, the pastor doesn’t know why.

The pastor doesn’t find out until after church when

one “concerned” spokesperson comes to talk to him.

“Some people are not happy.”

(Always a good line to hear on a Sunday morning.)

Well, what’s the problem?

You didn’t say hello to Joe in the grocery store.

Why did you ignore Joe in the grocery store?

  

The pastor is caught unaware.

The pastor thinks, that doesn’t sound like me.

After a little thinking he remembers:

the battery in one of the pastor’s hearing aids gave out,

so he didn’t wear them to the store that day.

If he doesn’t wear his hearing aids, he can’t hear.

He never heard Joe.

He explained it to Joe, and then to the congregation,

and apparently they worked it all out because

the pastor was there for the next 20 years.

 

This story is true.

Well, this is how it was told to me by the pastor.

And I believe it, because this happens a lot.

I’m sure we all have a story or two like this.

Some a lot more destructive than this one.

People complaining to other people instead

of to the person their complaining about.

It happens in families, at work, in organizations

and definitely in churches

maybe most often in churches.

 

I think it might happen in the church even more

than other organizations because we’re supposed to be nice.

We get this impression that we’re supposed

to be of one mind and one opinion and thought.

We think that to be church means that we’re

supposed to only be sweet in front of one another.

To show no disagreement. So when we do disagree with someone,

when we’re frustrated we couldn’t possibly tell them.

That wouldn’t be nice. That could be rude. That could create conflict.

So, we just tell someone else. Maybe even innocently, concerned.

We have parking lot discussions and share gossip.

I have surely participated in it.

I bet most of us have.

  

If it helps at all, we obviously haven’t been

the first people to do it this.

We’re in Matthew 18 this week.

The whole concept of the church has just been brought up 

for the first time in chapter 16 when Jesus tells Peter that

he was going to build his church on him.

And here Jesus is, two chapters later,

telling them how to deal with disagreements.

Almost instantly, after church, there was church conflict.

 

Matthew 18.

This is maybe the most directly applicable,

and the most practical advice we’re given in the whole bible:

If someone sins against you, if someone does something to you,

like snubs you in a grocery store,

the first step is to talk to the other person directly. Alone.

 

Don’t tell a bunch of other people first.

Don’t tell them in the middle of a meeting.

Or in the middle of the Narthex where other people can hear.

Don’t copy everyone in an email to them about their problem.

Don’t tell their spouse or their friend about it.

Don’t publicly scold them on social media.

Go to them.

And give them the chance to fix it.

 

So much in the church and the world would be solved

if we just went to that first step.

We wouldn’t have any comedies if we did that.

But it would solve a lot of problems.

 

And if that first step doesn’t work, there are other practical steps outlined too: 

Take a couple of people and talk to the other person.

(Of course, there’s always a chance the other

two people might disagree with you.)

And if that doesn’t work, then tell the church.

Then bring it up in a meeting. And if all that doesn’t work,

then treat them as a Gentile or a tax collector.

Of course, we know how Jesus treated Gentiles and Tax Collectors.

This gospel was, of course, written by Matthew-

the Tax Collector – a disciple chosen and loved by Jesus.

 

So this is simple advice.

If you’ve got a problem, go directly to that person and talk to them.

Simple. So why don’t we do it?

Why is it that churches, who have this in our scriptures,

forget to do it so often?

 

The fact is, the steps might be simple and clear,

but they are very, very hard.

They leave us very vulnerable.

Telling other people, individually, that they’re behaving in a way

we don’t like, having an honest discussion with them,

and not walking off in a huff is difficult.

Staying connected with someone you disagree with is difficult.

 

They could get angry, they could tell you something about yourself in response, 

they could stop talking to you all together.

Whenever I have to do it, I know I get a knot in my stomach

and it worries me for days.

 

This is often what, I think, turns people off of the church.

It turns people off of organized religion.

When it goes wrong, it’s a den of gossip and endless

parking lot complaints.

But if we actually do it the right way –

and in accordance with this advice from Jesus himself –

it can be extremely difficult and uncomfortable.

 

Have you ever told someone that you were involved in the church

and they told you that they were “Spiritual but not religious”

They just don’t like all that church stuff?

 

A UCC pastor named Lillian Daniel wrote a great little blog entry

more than 10 years ago called:

Spiritual But not religious? Stop boring me.”

She complains about the people that she meets on planes

when they find she’s a minister,

most people tell her that “they’re spiritual but not religious.”

She writes:

 

Such a person will always share this

as if it is some kind of daring insight,

unique to them, bold in its rebellion

against the religious status quo.

Next thing you know, he's telling me that he finds God in the sunsets.

These people always find God in the sunsets.

And in walks on the beach.

Sometimes I think these people never leave

the beach or the mountains,

what with all the communing with God they do

on hilltops, hiking trails and . . .

did I mention the beach at sunset yet?

Like people who go to church don't see God in the sunset!

 

What she goes on basically to say is that being spiritual by yourself

with nature that doesn’t talk back, doesn’t have it’s own opinions,

doesn’t change its mind, doesn’t have a bad day, doesn’t have 

any baggage, or hurts, or history is really unchallenging and,

in her estimation, kind of boring.

It’s comfortable to be spiritual but not religious. It’s safe.

Religion is people who experience the spiritual together.

It’s people. And really, people are the problem here.

 

I guess I don’t BLAME people who have decided to leave

religion and the people that come with it.

Church life is difficult, community is tough, people are complicated.

Religion, and all of its humanness can be infuriating.

We have to deal with institutions that we didn’t create ourselves,

with traditions that might be very important, or irrelevant,

and we have to decide which is which.

 

We have to deal with people with different experiences,

different upbringings, different backgrounds,

different temperaments, and often very different opinions.

And we have to come together to experience something

that is nebulous, vague, unclear, amorphous

(I used a thesaurus for those words)

 

Sunsets, in comparison, are simple. No attitudes.

no different opinions, they don’t talk back,

they don’t question your methods or motives.

That vein doesn’t pop up in the side of their head when they’re mad at you. 

Because sunsets are never mad at you.

Sunsets don’t want you to be anything different than you already are.

They don’t want you to grow or learn.

Sunsets don’t ask anything of you at all.

 

Sure, sunsets and mountains and beaches are

beautiful and can rest your body, mind, and soul,

but is that all that God is? Rest?

I think God can be rest, but God is also challenge,

God is questions, God is restlessness, God is opinions,

God is sleepless nights, God is messy.

 

God is more complicated than sunsets and beaches.

And church is a reflection of that.

Church is not for the faint of heart.

Community is not for the faint of heart.

I say people, like all of us, who are willing to get in

and get messy, with each other, we are the bold and daring ones.

Sunsets are simple. People are hard.

On the other hand – I think that people also get turned

off from church because people are told they can’t voice

their opinions and things tend to fester and burn.

Challenges and complaints are looked down on.

Then things are swept under the rug.

Sins and offenses are allowed to go on and grow

We use forgiveness as an excuse for avoidance.

Then any type of conflict is ignored until it becomes unbearable,

and then it becomes an all out fight or division.

 

In Ohio, I was on the synod team that dealt with

churches that were in conflict and

I have been to congregational meetings that have

been so destructive, and the words so spiteful

that I have had a crisis of faith myself.

 

You get that microphone set up in the

fellowship hall and people who are normally very

reasonable people suddenly sound like professional wrestlers

challenging the champ to a fight next Saturday night.

 

I have left those meetings thinking that a sunset would

be a much better option.

 

The advice that Jesus gives this week doesn’t say,

“when someone sins against you just deal with it and keep it to yourself.”

or “Just forgive them in your heart and everything will be okay.”

Or “just wait and air all your emotions out at a public meeting”

 

Jesus says talk to that person one on one.

Get involved. Be engaged. Talk to each other directly.

Be vulnerable. Of course, again, this requires us to be uncomfortable.

 

A lot of those public fights at meetings could have been avoided

if there were conversations that were had earlier.

Sometimes 10 or 15 years earlier. This works on the personal level, 

it works on the church level, and call me naive, 

but I think Jesus advice would work on the international level too.


In my work on the conflict team I saw some terrible things,

but I have also seen miraculous and beautiful things.

 

Sometimes things are untenable, and

sometimes the best thing is for one of the parties

to remove themselves from the situation.

But sometimes conversations are had, and agreements

are made, and reconciliation happens.

Relationships that were broken are repaired.

 

When this happens at this micro-level, we can see

what God can do. And what God will do, in big ways.

We become signs of God’s grace, love and power.

I will trade a sunset in for that experience any day.

 

God is fixing and repairing and rebuilding all the time.

God is reconciling, and renewing, and resurrecting everywhere.

And we, as church people, get to be partners in that work.

In our own hearts and in our own messy petri dishes

of challenge, conflict, death, and rebirth, which is the church.

 

Sunsets are fine.

But God’s real miracles happen

when we find God’s image in other people,

people that think different than us,

that have different experiences,

different cultures and backgrounds,

different opinions and understandings.

And especially maybe, in those who disagree with us.

 

Because where two or three are gathered in Christ’s name –

when we can support one another, work together,

across differences and still serve God and serve our community—

it is a miracle!

And we know that God is with us.

 

 

Tuesday, September 1, 2026

Not the Race

 Matthew 16:13-19 August 30, 2026


 

There was a woman who decided that a goal in life

was to complete a foot race.

So she trained, she ran every day, she did strength training.

She was comfortably able to get to about 15 miles.

So she signed up for a half marathon –13 miles.

 

So she got to the race, and she lined up, started the race.

with all these other people, and she’s running and running .

One hour and she’s doing pretty well, running, running,

two hours and she feels like she should be coming close to the end.

But it doesn’t end, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else

is thinking about finishing soon.

 

So she asks one of the other runners

and she finds out that she is not in a half marathon

she is running a full marathon – 26 miles.

 

What should she do? she didn’t just want to stop

and admit defeat, so she keeps running.

But the whole time she is saying to herself

and to anyone else:

“This is not the race I signed up for.”

“This is not the race I signed up for.”

 

She finished the race in the end.

But this was not the race she signed up for.

 

That is kind of what Peter is saying to Jesus.

Jesus just tells them that he’s going to undergo great suffering

be rejected by the elders, and be killed –

(oh yeah and rise again, but I don’t think that’s

what sticks in Peter’s mind) –

Peter is now getting a fuller picture about what

Jesus ministry will be like.

 

 Peter was certainly not expecting this

when he put down his net and followed.

So he takes Jesus aside and tells him that he’s crazy.

 

Rejected and killed by those in power?

“This is not the race I signed up for.” says Peter

This is not the race I signed up for.

 

And people who have been hanging

around Jesus and the church for a while,

know what Peter is going through.

We can commiserate with poor Peter.

Usually, we didn’t sign up for this race either.

 

When I was 27 I moved to New York City to write.

I was a writer, I was ready to embark on my artsy life

of writing plays and hanging around other artsy people.

Maybe I would even start wearing a beret.

Then, I don’t know why, I started to go to church,

a Lutheran church -- for no good discernible reason

but because it was close to my house.

And then the whole trajectory of my life changed.

 

This is not the race I signed up for.

 

At my first congregation, we were going through

a really tough time, like really tough.

A very smart person was council president

and he was caught right in the middle of it.

Now he was a family court judge,

so he wasn’t adverse to conflict,

and it was like he was perfectly chosen to handle

the interpersonal problems we were having.

but something about conflict at church bugged him.

He was in my office talking about things and he said,

“Pastor June, I just want to stop all this stuff

and get back to what church is about.

Praying and meditating on God and Jesus

and listening to good music.”


In other words, this is not the race I signed up for.

 

In my internship church there was this guy named Greg,

who had a tough street life,

then he was very involved in the church.

Some guys around his apartment were

bugging him, stealing from his neighbors

painting graffiti on the garages around his house.

Greg came into church one day annoyed,

not really at the guys, he was annoyed at Jesus and the church.

He said, “Before I would have just cracked these guys over

the head and taught them a lesson.

Now I gotta think about what Jesus would do.

Stupid Church.”

 

This is not the race I signed up for.

 

When Jesus called Peter

maybe Peter thought he was signed up for

some fame, some adventure, some challenges.

Maybe he thought Jesus and the disciples would get the

Roman Empire out of their business,

or maybe they would just reform the

synagogue and change how some things were done.

 

Maybe he thought he would just watch some miracles

and bask in Jesus glory, maybe he thought it would be all prayer

and worship and spiritual life.

We don’t know exactly what Peter thought he signed up for.

But it sure wasn’t this race,

not the “rejected by the authorities, suffer and be killed” race.

 

So when Jesus said that was the future,

Peter says, “no, this can’t be. You can’t do this.”

This is not the race I signed up for.

 

But Jesus tells Peter, and Jesus tells us:

“You get behind me.”

Remember, we don’t run this show, Jesus does.

 

And this is a reminder for us too.

We follow Jesus. 

We don’t decide the way it’s supposed to be.

We follow Jesus way.

And Jesus way was not around pain and suffering

It was through it.

 

Sometimes Jesus calls us to challenging jobs.

Sometimes following Jesus calls us to lives

we never would have imagined otherwise.

Sometimes our plans get derailed and we have to let them go.

 

And being a follower of Jesus doesn’t mean you get

to skirt all the bad and uncomfortable stuff.

It doesn’t mean that we get gifted an easy life.

Bad stuff happens to us, just like it happens to everyone else.

As Christians we don’t get to do praying and meditating

on God and  like we’re above this dirty, earthly things.

And sometimes we get more problems because

we’re trying to follow Jesus way.

 

And then, as followers of Jesus, we have

this extra difficult call to respond to these

challenges in ways that are different from the world.

We can’t just “crack people over the head

and teach them a lesson” anymore, although

we might be tempted to do it, like Greg was.

  

We are to lead with love, we lead with compassion.

And because of that, sometimes we are vulnerable,

and because of that, sometimes we lose.

That is our cross to bear.

 

Jesus said “If any want to be my followers

let them deny themselves and take up their cross.”

 

The cross that Jesus talks about is what happens

when we sacrifice ourselves and our own direction

and inclination and follow Christ’s direction.

When our own wants and impulses take a back seat,

and our compassion takes a priority.

When we see the face of Jesus in the strangers

and the difficult people in our lives.

When we think of the needs of the world over our own.

That is our sacrifice. That is our cross.

 

When we follow Jesus we deny ourselves deny our plans

and follow Jesus’s plans.

When we’re moved to do things that aren’t

in our best interest, that don’t profit us.

We find ourselves in situations that we wouldn’t find

ourselves in a million years.

Sometimes things don’t go right. Sometimes we get hurt.

But we keep doing the right things.

That is the cross that Jesus wants us to take up.

That is the race that Jesus has signed us up for.

“If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves

and take up their cross and follow me.”

  

So is that the end of Jesus’ story? 

Life is hard and then you die?

Is that where Jesus leaves us?

 

Of course not, because we know what happens after the cross.

On the third day, Jesus rose from the dead.

 

And the same for us.

God doesn’t just leave us down in the mess.

God picks us up from there and restores us to new life.

Each time we experience these little deaths,

Those places of loss, and hurt, and betrayal.

God brings us to a new and transformed life.

A life that is changed,

a little better than the old one we left.

One that is authentic and real.

One that is closer to God and God’s compassion.

Not the same as before, but changed.

 

“Those who want to save their life will lose it,

and those who lose their life for my sake,

and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

 

Maybe this is not the race that we signed up for,

but this is the life that God has in store for us.

This is the race that we are running.

And this is the promise of God.

 

We lose our life, but God promises to find it again.