27.01.2026
Saint Francis
St. Francis Lutheran Church
Third Sunday after Epiphany (Year A)
Pastor Christian Jennert
Isaiah 9:1-4 Psalm 27 1 Corinthians 1:10-18 Matthew 4:12-23
The world Jesus enters is not calm or settled in today's Gospel. It is anxious, divided, and hungry for direction. People are trying to make sense of forces larger than themselves -- pollitical unrest, fear about the future, uncertainty about who to trust and where to belong.
Does that sound familiar?
In 2026 many of us feel pulled in a hundred directions at once. Our lives are shaped by constant urgency, productivity, and self-optimization. We are told to build our personal brand, secure our future, and stay competitive -- often at the expense of community, rest, and compassion. Add to that the churn of national and global conflict, deep disagreements about immigration and power, and a general sense that the social fabric is wearing thin. It is no wonder so many feel weary, cynical, or overwhelmed these days.
Into that world -- then and now -- Jesus speaks a simple invitation: "Follow me."
This week, that invitation has felt especially close to home. In Minneapolis, a second fatal confrontation involving federal immigration agents has left a community grieving and searching for answers. Faith leaders and neighbors have gathered in protest, prayer, and public witness, wrestling with questions of justice, dignity, and how we care for the vulnerable among us. Many clergy were arrested. These are not distant or abstract events; they reflect faithful people trying to follow Jesus in moments of fear, sorrow, and moral urgency -- where discipleship is lived not in theory, but in real places, among real people, at real cost.
The apostle Paul knows how hard that invitation is to hear. Writing to the church in Corinth, a busy port town in ancient Greece, he addresses a community not unlike our own -- diverse, energetic, opinionated, and torn in different directions. They argued about leadership, identity, worship, and who was right. Paul does not solve their problems by taking sides. Instead, he draws them back to the center: "Has Christ been divided?" The cross, he says, is not a symbol of success or dominance, but of Go'd self-giving love. It is there -- not in our arguments or achievements -- that our unity is found.
Paul's message cuts against much of what shapes us today. We live in a culture that prizes winning, influence, and visibility. Even our faith can be tempted to become another form of self-expression or personal fulfillment. But Paul reminds us that Christian identity is not something we curate. It is something we receive. We are marked by the cross -- claimed, named, and held together, not by agreement on everything, but by Christ crucified and risen.
That is where discipleship begins.
Walking along the Sea of Galilee, Jesus does not call experts or spiritual elites. He called fishers -- people in the middle of their work, their routines, their responsibilities. He does not offer them a strategic plan or five-year vision. He simply says, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." And somehow, without fully knowing what it will cost or where it will lead, they go.
That raises an honest question for us: What makes following Jesus difficult today?
For many of us, it is not hostility to faith -- it is distraction. We are busy, overscheduled, digitally saturated, and emotionally stretched. Following Jesus asks us to slow down in a world that rewards speed, to listen in a culture of constant noise, and to care for neighbors in a society that often prioritizes self-interest. It asks us to resist the temptation to retreat into private spirituality or hardened positions, and instead to remain open -- to God, to one another, and to the suffering of the world.
And yet, there are also new opportunities.
San Francisco is a city of deep longing, for meaning, justice, healing, and belonging. Many are spiritually curious but institutionally wary. Many hunger for communty that is honest, inclusive, and rooted in something deeper than success or status. In this place and time, following Jesus may look less like having all the answers and more like practicing presence: showing up, listening well, advocating for dignity, and creating spaces where grace can take flesh.
Lutheran theologian and pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote, "When Christ calls a person, he bids them come and die." Not a dramatic death, but the daily letting go of what keeps us centered on ourselves alone. Discipleship is not an abstract belief; it is a way of life shaped by trust, courage, and love.
The prophet Isaiah promises that those who walk in darkness have seen a great light. That light is not blinding or overpowering. It is steady. Persistent. Healing. Jesus brings that light into real lives, into fear and division, into bodies and communities in need of wholeness.
When we gather here, our gifts are nurtured -- compassion, teaching, prayer, courage, generosity. Then we are sent back into the world, not as saviors, but as witnesses. God's work, carried by our hands. God's love love, beating in our hearts. God's hope, moving through our feet into the streets of this city.
Following Jesus will always require courage. It may pull us out of familiar boats and into deeper water. But it also brings purpose, connection, and joy -- not shallow happiness, but the deep joy of knowing we are part of something larger than ourselves.
In the midst of it all God still calls. Christ still invites. The light still shines.
Amen.
