9th Sunday after Pentecost – Mark Winward
Audacious Faith
At first glance, today’s readings may seem unrelated. But look closer, and a thread begins to emerge—one that ties Isaiah, Hebrews, and Luke together. Woven through each passage is an audacious faith: a bold, risk-taking trust in God we are called to live out.
In Isaiah (1:1, 10–20), the young prophet is blunt with God’s people. Their outward good works, he says, are meaningless without an inner change of heart. Offerings without repentance are empty. Prayers without transformation go unheard. Instead, Isaiah calls them to something deeper: “Learn to do good; seek justice; rescue the oppressed” (v.17). True worship is not just ritual—it’s the transformation of both heart and action.
Hebrews (11:1–3, 8–16) picks up this theme, focusing on Abraham’s faithfulness. This chapter is sometimes called the “roll call of the heroes of the faith.” But as my old professor Reggie Fuller would say, “The Bible knows no heroes… heroes are witnesses to their own achievements; whereas in Hebrews 11 the great figures of salvation history are brought forth, not for their heroism, but for their faith.” He defined faith as “taking a risk to trust God at God’s word when God makes promises about the future.”
The challenge is that Hebrews 11:1 is often misunderstood. The NRSV says, “Faith is the assurance (hypostasis) of things hoped for, the conviction (elegchos) of things not seen.” Yet those Greek words are never used that way anywhere else in the New Testament. A better rendering—one that matches their usual meaning—might be: “Faith is the reality (hypostasis) of things hoped for, the proof (elegchos) of things not seen.”
That small shift changes everything. Faith is not just an inner feeling. It is hope made real in action. It is lived, embodied, risk-taking trust. Hope is something we feel. Faith is something we do—and the risks we take for God become the shape of our lives.
Luke 12:32–40 brings this into sharp focus. Jesus calls his disciples to live with that kind of readiness and courage. A good sermon, it’s said, “comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable.” These words of Jesus do both—they reassure the fearful and unsettle the complacent.
Jesus warns us to be ready for his coming. Now many churches dwell on the Second Coming “like a thief in the night.” But truth be told, it makes little difference whether Jesus comes in clouds of glory or comes for me because of a wrong move on GA-515 this afternoon. Either way, he’s coming—and I need to be ready. In the meantime, Jesus calls us to choose: trust over fear, anticipation over dread, the Kingdom of God over the distractions of this world.
This choice is grounded in our baptismal covenant (BCP 302):
- Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?
- Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?
- Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love?
- Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord?
(So if anyone ever asks you—as an Episcopalian—whether you know Jesus as your Savior and Lord, the answer should be a confident “Yes”!)
Then we promise to live that faith (BCP 304): to continue in the apostles’ teaching, to resist evil, to proclaim the Gospel in word and deed, to serve Christ in all persons, and to strive for justice, peace, and the dignity of every human being.
This covenant is not a checklist of good works. Without inner transformation, the list means little. But when we turn from sin, trust in Christ’s grace, and vow to live for him, our outward actions naturally flow from an inward faith.
Christian discipleship is not for the faint-hearted. It calls for an audacious faith—a faith that risks, a faith that acts, a faith that shapes how we live today because we trust God’s promises for all our tomorrows.
Faithfully yours,
