Sunday, June 7, 2026: "From What Is to What If"

Watch the sermon here

First United Presbyterian Church

“From What Is to What If”

Rev. Amy Morgan

June 7, 2026

Matthew 9:9-13

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax-collection station, and he said to him, “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him.

And as he sat at dinner in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with Jesus and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous but sinners.”There is something seriously wrong with Matthew. 

When Jesus tells the Pharisees that Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick, the Greek word translated as “sick,” kakos, does not primarily mean physically weak or diseased. There are about 7 other Greek words for that. Kakos is an extreme kind of affliction that encompasses the physical, emotional, and even moral self. It’s bad, wicked, evil, wrong. It indicates misery and flawed motives. It consumes a person so that they are not truly themselves. 

This is the kind of sickness Matthew suffers from. The kind of sickness that affects the soul. The kind of sickness that’s hard to see from the outside. The kind of sickness that manifests in addiction, rage, narcissism, perfectionism, depression, anxiety, and a whole host of behaviors that make it hard for people to have compassion on the suffering person. Especially when that suffering person is collecting their money for the evil empire. 

But Jesus sees Matthew’s sickness. He sees that he is not sitting at that table, collecting taxes, because he wants to, because it’s helping him live his best life, because he’s being his authentic self. He sees that this man is soul sick. And he extends an invitation to healing. 

Writer Amy Frykolm describes this encounter as “the opposite of the transactional encounters that have dominated Matthew’s life. Jesus isn’t making a promise that if Matthew will only do certain things on Jesus’ behalf, he will justify him in front of the community. He doesn’t make any promises at all. In the First Nations Version of the New Testament, the translators render the call as, “Come and walk the road with me.” That choice illuminates what “follow” might mean. It’s an invitation to a journey, a path. Throughout the tradition, we’ve often seen these words as command and obedience. But then it’s easy to forget the flow of love present in this call.”

But Jesus doesn’t stop there. When the Pharisees question this call, Jesus invites them into the flow of love, invites them into mercy. Jesus’s call and Matthew’s response offers a hopeful possibility, not just for Matthew’s life, but for the whole community, and for all of us. It demonstrates that, as Frykolm writes, “you don’t have to be perfect to walk this road. In fact, it might work out better if you’re not. The vulnerability of Matthew’s fragile new identity, his emerging self, is the gift that he is bringing with him.”

Matthew steps into the flow of love that is following Jesus, and that creates a conflict for the community, but also an invitation to mercy, an invitation to hopeful possibility for this new follower and the people around him. There’s this uncomfortable space between the life Matthew has lived and the norms of the community he lives in and this shift to what may be that isn’t yet entirely clear. 

English writer, Jeannette Winterson, says that many great stories begin this way: Once upon a time, there was a person in circumstances that weren’t all that they hoped for. And then there was an encounter. In a moment, the bare facts of what is changed to what if, the expansion of possibility. That expansion of possibility led Matthew to follow Jesus, come fully alive, and to share abundant life in spreading the gospel. What is for Matthew was soul-sickness and a way of life that diminished the light of God in him. What is was filled with hopelessness and despair. What if opened the way for love, mercy, compassion, and for that light to radiate to everyone around him. What if offered hope and opportunity to become who God created him to be.

I know a lot of us are feeling soul-sick today. The announcement of my upcoming departure may feel like an awful surprise. I felt so conflicted and concerned for you that I asked Session to explore a part-time arrangement to give us more time to figure things out, more time to say goodbye, more time to back out of something that seemed scary and uncertain. Kindly, they agreed to that arrangement. But it quickly became evident that I could not walk this new road and leave one foot behind me. This arrangement would have only created more soul-sickness for all of us. But it leaves us in circumstances that weren’t all that we hoped for. 

It is natural for us to feel off-balance right now. What is – a church and a pastor facing the end of our relationship, a congregation contemplating the uncertainty of leadership transition – is scary and sad. We might feel anxious or depressed. Folks may act out in ways that feel unhelpful or even unkind. We may not all be our best selves because of this situation, because of our suffering. There’s this uncomfortable space between what we know and are comfortable with, our community norms, and this shift to what is ahead and isn’t entirely clear. There may be feelings of conflict. And that might make it difficult for us to be compassionate with each other, to show each other mercy. 

But Jesus is inviting us into the flow of love, into hopeful possibility, for this church, the community around us, and for each of us here. Jesus is stepping up to our table, this table where we gather and remember that we are in communion with each other and with all Christians in all times and all places, and with Jesus himself. Jesus encounters us here. He sees our sickness here. And he invites us here to follow him, to participate in the flow of love present in that call. 

He isn’t calling us because we are perfect or because we will follow him without failure. In fact, it might work out better if we’re not perfect. Vulnerability is key to the new identities we are being invited to live into. Vulnerability is the gift that Matthew’s call offers us and that we can offer to each other. 

Jesus sees our sickness, and is offering us healing. Following Jesus is not about obedience, it is an encounter that changes what is to what if. The reality of what is may seem really sad and challenging. 

But what if it is also hopeful and life-giving? What if Jesus is inviting you all to journey in directions you never could have imagined? What if a transition in leadership opens up a space for your gifts to be shared and grow in beautiful and creative ways? What if this church discovers a new identity that serves the neighbor on your doorstep in ways that are essential to this time and place and may be radically different from anything you’ve experienced before? What if you all could show the rest of the Presbytery, the other churches in Loveland going through pastoral transitions, and all the people around here who don’t believe there is life and vitality in the institutional church, that Jesus is indeed healing the sick, making all things new, bringing life out of death? What if leadership transition was the most life-giving thing that has happened in this church in the last nine years? It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if that turns out to be the case. In fact, it is my most ardent hope. 

But Jesus is calling us to come and follow him, in all our perfectionism and vulnerability, in all our accomplishments and all our failings. Jesus invites us to walk the path of healing and hope. 

The poet William Stafford wrote a poem entitled “Yes,” that says,

It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation.

It could, you know. That’s why we wake
and look out — no guarantees
in this life.

But some bonuses, like morning,
like right now, like noon,
like evening.

Any time, we are invited to journey in the flow of love; to be vulnerable and show mercy. Any time, we can move from what is to what if, following the expansion of possibility in Jesus Christ. There are no guarantees, but there are some bonuses. These last nine years have been full of bonuses for me. Right now, is a bonus. And I hope we can see each moment we have together as a bonus as we move together from what is to what if. 

To God be all glory forever and ever. Amen.